I've said dozens of times that life begins at 30. It's fun being 4 years old.
But, the memories of a distorted youth are mine. Some of those memories can only be viewed through broken glass. A young man full of self-loathing, full of fear. He finds the world without joy and does not see a place for him in it. That young man cannot imagine living into his 30's. That young man cannot comprehend my existence. That young man wasn't completely wrong.
You see, the quintessential elements of that individual are gone. People that knew him may feel differently, but a single quality does not define a person. He was, in a word, deconstructed.
But he gave me a gift. With his memoirs complete, his story told, we can learn from his lack of foresight.
In my estimation, humans change... a lot. Our desire for stability is in part due to our inability to achieve it. The universe we live in changes constantly. The planet we abide is an orchestration of movement. We ourselves change ourselves and our environment at break-neck speed. We cannot stop moving. We cannot stop changing. Movement is part of existence in our reality.
So, I have to wonder... How many versions of this individual will there be? How old will he be when he stops moving? Which one will get to spend the most time moving? Does each one have a mid-life crisis? Does each one grow and learn or will some backslide?
Don't ask me... I'm only 4.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
What I'm not...
I had an opportunity recently to visit the other side of IT. For those of you unfamiliar, there are 2 phrases I'd like to share: cable monkey and code monkey.
Like all labels, they do not fit nicely in all situations, but I am a code monkey. I have very little interest in hardware. The case actually stays on my computer and I generally assume that any error is software related.
What I am definitely not is Tech Support.
I tip my hat to those in Tech Support. They work with unstable systems. I have sometimes referenced the "Ghost in the Machine". In truth, an operating system has so many lines of code, so much error checking, etc. that identifying a problem is often impossible for an end user. The restart phonemonon is a result of this. If you clear session data and go back to ordinary operating parameters, everything should work fine. The jumped out error causing code somewhere in some sub-module just needs a fresh call.
The unfortunate result is that good tech support people are magicians. Diagnosis is nearly impossible. Indirect causality is usually as close as one gets. I've heard of machines that needed to be flipped upside-down to run. The strange set of experiences that lead to discovering this cannot be taught. It's simply illogical.
Whereas I would spend hours looking for the switch, soldered connection, capacitor, chip, etc. that was loose, a tech support guru simply flips it over, starts it up, and returns it to the user while my synapses are still running down a list of possible causes.
And so, I am thankful that my little baliwick is limited to 0's and 1's. I thank those that are in the trenches, fighting systems too large to be debugged effectively.
I apologize to all those who require support and are faced with the likes of me. You should probably just restart. It will probably fix the problem. I can't tell you why it will fix the problem, but it will. I will then sit back and be infuriated that my lovely world of 0's and 1's has been invaded my goblins, ghosts, and wizards.
Like all labels, they do not fit nicely in all situations, but I am a code monkey. I have very little interest in hardware. The case actually stays on my computer and I generally assume that any error is software related.
What I am definitely not is Tech Support.
I tip my hat to those in Tech Support. They work with unstable systems. I have sometimes referenced the "Ghost in the Machine". In truth, an operating system has so many lines of code, so much error checking, etc. that identifying a problem is often impossible for an end user. The restart phonemonon is a result of this. If you clear session data and go back to ordinary operating parameters, everything should work fine. The jumped out error causing code somewhere in some sub-module just needs a fresh call.
The unfortunate result is that good tech support people are magicians. Diagnosis is nearly impossible. Indirect causality is usually as close as one gets. I've heard of machines that needed to be flipped upside-down to run. The strange set of experiences that lead to discovering this cannot be taught. It's simply illogical.
Whereas I would spend hours looking for the switch, soldered connection, capacitor, chip, etc. that was loose, a tech support guru simply flips it over, starts it up, and returns it to the user while my synapses are still running down a list of possible causes.
And so, I am thankful that my little baliwick is limited to 0's and 1's. I thank those that are in the trenches, fighting systems too large to be debugged effectively.
I apologize to all those who require support and are faced with the likes of me. You should probably just restart. It will probably fix the problem. I can't tell you why it will fix the problem, but it will. I will then sit back and be infuriated that my lovely world of 0's and 1's has been invaded my goblins, ghosts, and wizards.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
And I am traveling.... again....
The end of the year is often filled with odd events and so finding myself driving through Virginia in a rental car was not shocking.
In a way, it seemed predictable. A young man that drove once every few months for years finds himself commuting to work everyday. 5 months later, inclement weather hits his hometown while he is away. Flight after flight is canceled. He finds himself faced with the decision to wait another 2 days for a flight or to start driving.
The cliche is ruined when one takes into account the woman by his side. The woman he discusses the situation with. The woman whom will take the later, harder part of the journey. The woman he is happy to call his wife.
No single-handed struggle. No last-ditched effort. Just 2 people making the best out of the situation. The young man knows that together these 2 can accomplish far more. He knows that to attempt this drive alone would be foolhardy and no accolades await him for accomplishing it.
And so he drives into the night... crossing into Maryland before turning over the keys. The woman drives into and across Pennsylvania as he sleeps. She will continue to drive until 5 AM. She will go to work the next day while he calls out. He will be reminded once again which one of them is the strong one.
They will both return to their life. The road is not their way.
He started the journey wishing to return home. But in truth, he was always home. Home has no latitude or longitude. Home is as close or as far as the woman that took the journey with him.
In a way, it seemed predictable. A young man that drove once every few months for years finds himself commuting to work everyday. 5 months later, inclement weather hits his hometown while he is away. Flight after flight is canceled. He finds himself faced with the decision to wait another 2 days for a flight or to start driving.
The cliche is ruined when one takes into account the woman by his side. The woman he discusses the situation with. The woman whom will take the later, harder part of the journey. The woman he is happy to call his wife.
No single-handed struggle. No last-ditched effort. Just 2 people making the best out of the situation. The young man knows that together these 2 can accomplish far more. He knows that to attempt this drive alone would be foolhardy and no accolades await him for accomplishing it.
And so he drives into the night... crossing into Maryland before turning over the keys. The woman drives into and across Pennsylvania as he sleeps. She will continue to drive until 5 AM. She will go to work the next day while he calls out. He will be reminded once again which one of them is the strong one.
They will both return to their life. The road is not their way.
He started the journey wishing to return home. But in truth, he was always home. Home has no latitude or longitude. Home is as close or as far as the woman that took the journey with him.
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