tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17975060472466806602024-03-13T09:29:41.659-07:00The Blogger Is DeadCe n'est pas un blogAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-34561867604372330082012-01-01T02:25:00.000-08:002012-01-01T02:25:52.025-08:00Resolute<p>I dislike resolutions for the new year. I think it's silly that a specific, arbitrary date is forcing us to make changes in our lives, when we should be making those changes every day. I also think this temporal quality of the resolutions contributes to the terrible success rates these resolutions tend to be met with.</p>
<p>And yet, my life has pivoted entirely in an astonishingly short amount of time, and it dramatically all unfolded in perfect timing for the new year. So I feel compelled to brush off this blog I haven't posted to in almost a full calendar year to think about the coming year.</p>
<p>I just accepted an offer for a new job, and will be signing the paperwork to begin as soon as humanly possible. I'm optimistic about the company, and a large part of that is the speed with which they sped me through the interview process. I IMed the CTO on 12/27 about the position. He replied and told me to forward them a résumé. He read through the résumé, chatted a bit with me, and set up a Google+ Hangout with the executive team for 12/30. I woke up on 12/31 to the job offer. I told them I liked to be in a culture that valued getting things done; they gave me an interview process of four days. That's fantastic.</p>
<p>I haven't officially mentioned it to anyone at the school yet, but I'm leaving college. I doubt I'll be coming back. College does not have a culture that values getting things done.</p>
<p>I'm not sure where I'll be for the foreseeable future. I'll be discussing it with my family during the next week, while in Syracuse. I may just stay in Syracuse, living with my family as I try to reverse the damage being in college did to my depression. I may continue to live in Buffalo, combatting depression the best way I know how: doing what I love. That decision won't be mine to make alone, and I'm afraid of it.</p>
<p>I don't have a resolution this year. I don't want to <em>resolve</em> a past issue in my life. I want to take this pivot and run with it, building the best future I possibly can. As I fall asleep tonight, this will be my mantra:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>There are over 7 billion people on this planet. By the time you finish this thought, 250 new people will be born, 250 new lives will begin. That is 250 chances for you to change a life, to meet someone great, or to meet someone who will change the way you see the world. Every minute, 105 people die. That's 105 chances you most likely missed. That's 105 less opportunities in the world.</p>
<p>You are not unique, you are not special. Those are concepts that are limited to a time when the earth was large and empathy was small. There are people out there who are smarter than you, better than you. There are 7 billion people out there, and each will make you feel like an idiot about <em>something</em>. But that just means 7 billion people who are qualified to make your life better, and 7 billion people whose lives you have a <em>responsibility</em> to improve. Being unique or special is a sad, stale, and <em>stagnating</em> way to see the world. There is nothing worse than being the best thing you encounter on any given day.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Good night, moon. Good morning, 2012.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-23916572183368167622011-03-23T13:21:00.000-07:002011-03-23T13:21:56.227-07:00I feel like I have different groups of friends, and that different behaviours are appropriate for each. There are the <a class="vt-p" href="http://www.tedxbuffalo.com/">TEDxBuffalo</a> organisers, who I could spend hours with and never be bored. There are my Dirty Little Freaks, a group of four to seven people, depending, who I turn to when the shit hits the fan. There are my high school friends, and even they break down into different groups. But I still feel awkward, because I've so segmented a personality.<br />
<br />
Perhaps examples would be better.<br />
<br />
There's <a class="vt-p" href="http://www.susanlynncope.com/">Susan</a>, who is moving to Phoenix. I adore Susan. I think she's fun to be around, and I enjoy her company. But I only know her through TEDxBuffalo, because, like most the TEDx organisers, she's at a different stage in her life than I am. It would be weird for me to hang out with her. The same goes for <a class="vt-p" href="http://www.thepurdman.com/">Kevin</a> and <a class="vt-p" href="http://www.markandrewbusch.com/">Mark</a> and all of the other organisers. I will legitimately miss seeing these people every week, because it was always so much fun. I'll still see <a class="vt-p" href="http://www.leahmacvie.com/">Leah</a>, but she goes into an entirely separate group, because she's my <i>boss</i>. I'm going to miss these people, but it would be awkward to invite them to hang out, or watch movies with me and my friends, or just kill time. That's not the kind of relationship we have.<br />
<br />
How do I say goodbye to someone like that? How do I say "Susan, I'll miss you while you're in Phoenix, because you not only put up with my silliness but encouraged it"? How do I tell Kevin that I value knowing him not because he's an editor at Lifehacker and one of the most well-connected people I've met, but because he tells me stories about the RIT Computer Science students while he drives me home, or because I have a deep-seated respect for his ability to so effortlessly <i>never let you down</i>. That's besides his generosity; keep in mind, I only know him because some random developer of an app he covered emailed him out of the blue and said "Hi, we live in the same city" and Kevin not only replied but said "let's meet up sometime".<br />
<br />
I know some amazing people, but I have no idea how to connect with them.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-83043906292897983462011-03-06T14:43:00.001-08:002011-03-06T14:47:34.689-08:00I met you on the dance floor<br />
Where passion goes for birthing<br />
You looked at least as lost as I was--<br />
I think that's what drew me to you<br />
Not your nondescript shirt<br />
Full of pockets for you to hide in<br />
Not your slightly imperfect features<br />
Marred only by unnoticeable distortion<br />
It was your eyes, the world I saw in them<br />
As you danced by yourself<br />
that made me extend my hand, in offering.<br />
<br />
I spun you under my arm<br />
the gateway to a world neither of us knew<br />
and pulled you close, wrapped my arms around you<br />
as much to keep me safe as you.<br />
And as we ventured to worlds unknown<br />
your hand clutching at my thigh<br />
my fingers locked with yours<br />
our fear and worry and hesitation palpable<br />
I knew you were but a moment<br />
That this was all you would give me<br />
And I knew as you embraced me,<br />
softly kissing my cheek before scurrying away<br />
into a world I'll never know,<br />
I knew you had given me more than anyone else<br />
More than anyone could or would.<br />
<br />
A moment.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-57808759733670497842011-02-02T00:05:00.000-08:002011-02-02T00:05:19.031-08:00In the nineties, we sang angsty and angry ballads about changing our world, about the decay of life around us. Ironically, we were never more alive. How do we document real life, when real life's getting more like fiction each day?<br />
<br />
It's 2011. Nobody <i>wants</i> to document real life anymore. Real life is getting further and further from fiction. We won. We changed things. Dichotomies broke down, things lost some clarity, lost some of the "us" and "them". But at what cost?<br />
<br />
It's wonderful that we're moving away from all the terrible things we do to each other. It's great that there's become less of a "them". But in doing so, we've lost the "us", as well-- it was defined by the "them".<br />
<br />
What these Zoloft-fueled, 3-in-the-morning thoughts really come down to is, if someone were to document real life today, what would they say? They'd tell an empathetic story of mixed feelings and compromises.<br />
<br />
Give me back my absolutes, my caricatures.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-19295244457215701872011-01-23T20:21:00.000-08:002011-01-23T20:21:09.319-08:00Nobody Can Live In The TheatreEver since I was a kid, I've been fascinated by the theatre. I think it has something to do with the fact that everything is, by necessity, so much <i>bigger</i> when it's on stage. Everything is larger than life because, let's face it, nobody wants to see a husband and wife fight. But throw it on stage, blow it up so it's larger than life, and suddenly it's interesting and artistic. When we expand things to larger-than-lifesize like that, they start incorporating literary elements, they start showing us things about ourselves. We cling to the cliches and archetypes and caricatures because they're convenient and easily recognisable, and because they are organic representations of the things we see in each other and ourselves. They're relatable.<br />
<br />
I've always wanted to live in a theatre. I've always wanted everything to be larger than life, always wanted things to mean nothing or everything. There would never be a dull moment, right?<br />
<br />
The problem with living in a theatre is that the people don't scale. The people around you are people, not cliches or archetypes or caricatures. And endless monologues are lonely things to give.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-78887574667214181242011-01-10T01:16:00.000-08:002011-01-10T01:16:00.598-08:00It's been a while since I wrote here last. A month, almost.<br />
<br />
I've been keeping myself busy. I launched a defective product, I spent a bunch of time providing bug fixes for it, I took on contracts for clients, I worked and worked and worked. And you know what?<br />
<br />
I'm seeing little reward from it.<br />
<br />
That is purposefully disingenuous. I am being paid quite well, have wonderful relationships with my clients, and have somehow risen to the enviable position of turning down work I never sought in the first place. Kevin Purdy, of Lifehacker and Complete Android renown, and other well-connected friends and acquaintances in Buffalo keep pushing contracts and jobs towards me. I am, in a certain sense, being rewarded handsomely for my "work". But in the sense that matters most to me, my sense of accomplishment and quality of life, my high water mark for my emotions... in these places, I seem to be falling short, stagnating.<br />
<br />
Part of the problem is that, since August, I've been embroiled in the part of being a programmer I hate the most: maintenance and revision. Part of what I love about programming is the high, the sense of freedom, the grandiose visions that starting a new project grant you. I haven't felt that, in all honesty, since August, not counting a brief moment of insanity here and there. Part of this, ironically, is the fault of my own success; a project that was started without that high, sans those grandiose visions, actually took off and began fulfilling some of the ones I would have had. Kevin, again, is to thank for that. In essence, all the problems in my life right now boil down to "It's pretty much Kevin's fault." I kid. Sort of.<br />
<br />
I want to be working on something new. I have lots of ideas. I have lots of exciting technologies to play with, lots of interesting people to talk with, lots of encouragement. The only thing I truly lack is time.<br />
<br />
I return to school in a week. I have yet to write the papers or read the books I need to have read by then. I've yet to start. Hell, I still haven't registered for classes. How can I already have no time to do this stuff, and be losing vast amounts of my day shortly? That's just not fair.<br />
<br />
In roughly 12 hours, I'll be meeting with my doctor for a variety of reasons, mainly to get refills on my dextroamp-amphetamine, the federally controlled pills that let me have an attention span longer than--- ooh, kitty. But I also plan to broach the whole "sleep disorder" thing then, because I feel like that's where a lot of my time goes. If I could rid myself of that nasty compulsion, the unnerving need to go into a coma every day for a third of the day, I think I'd be a much more productive person.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-24698101329701403022010-12-20T09:33:00.000-08:002010-12-20T09:33:03.046-08:00I love explaining my Cr-48 to people. It's so funny, watching people's reactions.<br />
<br />
"So, how's your break going so far?"<br />
<br />
"Well, Google sent me a laptop. So pretty awesome."<br />
<br />
"Wait, what?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, they sent me a laptop."<br />
<br />
"To keep?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah."<br />
<br />
"How did this happen?"<br />
<br />
"Well, Google took a laptop, said 'Hey, Paddy is pretty awesome.' and put it in the mail. A few days later, it showed up on my doorstep. Where I opened it. And now I have it."<br />
<br />
"But <i>why</i>?"<br />
<br />
"Because they're sending laptops to developers."<br />
<br />
"<i>Why</i>?"<br />
<br />
"To test them. And Google's new operating system."<br />
<br />
"So you got a free laptop."<br />
<br />
"Yeah. I was mildly excited."<br />
<br />
Really, what is so hard to understand about "A Fortune 500 company gave me a several-hundred-dollar machine for <i>absolutely no reason</i>."?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-16471497594870617222010-12-02T15:24:00.000-08:002010-12-02T15:29:09.874-08:00I feel kind of fucked by Google. And that's totally not ok of me.<br />
<br />
See, I was <i>blessed</i> by Google. I was one of ten people outside of the company <a href="http://blog.android2cloud.org/2010/08/channel-api.html">given super-early access</a> to their awesome new <a href="http://code.google.com/events/io/2010/sessions/building-real-time-apps-app-engine-feed-api.html">Channel API</a> way back in October-ish. At the time, they gave access to my <i>development</i> server for <a href="http://blog.android2cloud.org/">android2cloud</a>, to load-test the service and figure out how it works under load. They said they'd be expanding the test server numbers to check and see how more and more user load affected the server as time went on. That's totally reasonable, and I was lucky to get what they gave me. Because I'm a greedy little bastard, I asked that the production server be considered for the larger tests, and was given an assurance that it was "exactly the kind of environment [they'd] want" when the time came.<br />
<br />
So I faithfully ported android2cloud, tried to work out the kinks in the system, tried to help out the other developers who were gifted with this early access. And we heard very little about the roadmap and schedule of the testing. So, we moved along. I had to stop working with the Channel API after a while, and pick up nodejs, to try and get a patch for my <a href="http://blog.android2cloud.org/search/label/money">server issues</a> out the door as soon as possible. And that's where I was, when I saw the <a href="http://techcrunch.com/2010/12/02/google-app-engine-now-streamlines-push-boosts-api-limits-and-more/">TechCrunch</a> post today.<br />
<br />
After that, I saw the <a href="http://googleappengine.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-holidays-from-app-engine-team-140.html">App Engine blog post</a>.<br />
<br />
The impression I get from both posts is that Channels are available in all App Engine apps now. Which leaves me a little hurt and upset, and I'm simultaneously hoping that it is true and not true. I want my server problems to go away, and this gives me a huge amount of breathing room. But I also wanted to get some load testing metrics, get some idea of how this would actually work with our system, have some forewarning so I could handle this gracefully and smoothly. Finding out through a third party, then hearing about it on the official blog, and not even getting a similar announcement in the mailing list is kind of a slap, after everything. And I posted links to both posts on the mailing list, and asked if this meant the Channel API was available to everyone now. Nobody has clarified yet.<br />
<br />
And then I think about everything that's happened, and this saga as a whole. And I feel like an ungrateful little shit, because the company that did so much for me and made such exceptions for me didn't remember to give me forewarning before launching the feature I had been testing for them, as a favour to me. <i>If they even launched the service</i>, which I'm still unclear on.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-15546498823459659442010-12-02T15:12:00.000-08:002010-12-02T15:12:35.319-08:00I've been thinking a lot for the past couple of days about blogging; how it's done, how it was done, how it should be done, and how it will be done. This was probably an escape my mind came up with to be able to ignore the fact that I've consistently <i>failed</i> at anything remotely resembling academic responsibility this week, failing to show up for classes and work on a frightening schedule (1/2 the week thus far, <i>gulp</i>). That's an interesting idea that should be pursued some more; hiding in things we're good at to escape things we're bad at. Learned helplessness much?<br />
<br />
But back to blogging. I am convinced, largely thanks to <a href="http://www.sayeverything.com/">Say Everything</a> by Scott Rosenberg, that links are the end-all-be-all of blogging. Comments are silly; links are how conversations happen. Tumblr came close with its reblog concept, but limited itself to just the Tumblr community. That, my friends, is what we in the industry call a "circlejerk".<br />
<br />
So, like everything that annoys me, I'm considering whether or not I should set out on a quest to fix it. Make a Wordpress/Tumblr-esque service/open-source software combination that will follow this links-are-king paradigm. Ignoring everything else I have already taken on, this is a daunting project. And yet, I'm the proud new owner of tangl.es, because our links <i>are</i> the tangled web we weave.<br />
<br />
Yes, I'm a little insane.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-28863919476588242712010-11-22T06:57:00.000-08:002010-11-22T06:57:24.951-08:00You know, it's funny. I was thinking a few hours ago about how much I missed having a good, awesome (in the original sense) storm. I wished it would rain. And, lo and behold, when I walked out of my apartment this morning, it was the raining. But it was entirely the wrong type of rain.<div><br />
</div><div>I wanted to watch God try to drown out his creation again. I wanted to see God's fury and shame and sorrow split the sky into fragments, wanted to see the agony of a creator assault the creations. I wanted to see God's hate, to be reminded that we <i>are</i> formed in his image. I was disappointed.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Instead, I got God's apathy. I felt God's vague sorrow drip on me, an unconvincing nag that coloured my day gray. I wanted technicolor, but got monochrome. I wanted passion, but got indifference. The same indifference that has been poisoning the inhabitants for so long.</div><div><br />
</div><div>There is no God here. He has left us for the country, for places where venting his fury yields satisfaction, where he can observe with grim delight as trees sway and branches shatter. We've learned to control his fury in our cities, and--like any caged beasts--he avoids our cities now.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to see God wash the world away, not moisten it half-heartedly.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-51780972742289550112010-11-10T14:30:00.000-08:002010-11-10T14:36:09.902-08:00I know I've <a href="2010/10/one-of-my-professors-said-something.html">written a lot</a> about my indecision as to the future I'm walking towards, the path I'm putting myself on. I know I'm looking between software and teaching, and weighing my two loves, trying to decide which to pursue.<br />
<br />
I was recently listening to the comedian Bo Burnham on YouTube (the guy is great, I highly recommend listening to a few of his songs. Vulgar, but true.) One of his tracks stuck out like a sore thumb, struck a chord in me. I've embedded it below.<br />
<br />
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<br />
See, I view my programming as art. <i>There is an art to making cool things.</i> In fact, I would posit that making cool things is, by definition, art. The question that I'm posing is whether that is something we should aspire to or not.<br />
<br />
The literacy rates and graduation rates in my country, one of the wealthiest places in the world, the place that brings us Facebook and Twitter, are <i>abysmal</i>. They're so bad, I wouldn't be surprised if many adults were unsure as to what "abysmal" means. And yet, we're coming up with new and interesting ways to communicate with each other. We're employing some of the smartest minds in <i>creating art</i>. And while we have a need to nurture the inner artist, we need to remember that that inner artist exists in a world. We can't simply hold art up as an excuse, some lofty goal that we aspire to with no regard for the context around it. There are rumbles of dissent around Buffalo right now because the funding for the arts was <i>drastically</i> cut, but... we're in a financially difficult spot right now. <i>Should</i> we be cutting funding to the arts to support more immediately pressing concerns?<br />
<br />
It's hard to open a mind that is rotting because it was starved to death. It's hard to light a spark in someone who was beaten for being different. Maybe art shouldn't be our highest concern.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure on any of this. I'm just thinking about where art stands in our society, and the benefits it attributes to our society. Are they equal? Is there a separation of benefits to a society, two categories of necessity? The necessity for intellectual growth and expansion through art, and the necessity for basic survival? Should we be pursuing them in tandem? As a software programmer, am I doing a <i>disservice</i> by turning my code into art, by delaying the good that I could be doing for my society by insisting on doing it in this pure way?<br />
<br />
I am an artist; please, God, forgive me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-89281220254149345262010-11-08T09:34:00.000-08:002010-11-08T09:34:57.607-08:00<blockquote>"And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it."</blockquote>This quote has stuck with me for a few years. Ever since I first heard it, as a leader in Vacation Bible School, it has remained lodged in my mind, taking up permanent residence there next to quotes about passion and excellence and pithy song lyrics. I think it has resonated with me so strongly because <i>giving responsibility</i> begets <i>responsible behaviour</i>, in my experience. Peter is the rock; he is given the weight of the entire Church, an Atlas of the theological world of Christ, but he's also given the strength and stability of a rock.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the cure of my ills is the hair of the dog that bit me. Perhaps I need to be more of a Peter, not less.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-53819351368004153722010-11-02T14:01:00.000-07:002010-11-02T14:01:47.763-07:00This Twitch In My Eye Is Starting To Piss Me OffI woke up today and went to work. For four hours straight, I worked in the same room on the same projects. One focus, one paradigm, one thing at a time. It was glorious.<br />
<br />
I feel like I could wake up every day and do this. Not one paradigm for an hour, then another for two hours, then another for an hour and a half... I had focus, and things got accomplished.<br />
<br />
This gives me hope. I've been worried about how I'd function in "the real world", with my numerous immaturities in behaviour that I can't seem to get away from, from my sleep schedule that doesn't really exist, to my inability to be productive unless the planets are in line. But apparently, in the real world, I'll be fine. As long as I know what my day holds, and have a consistent pattern with a long-term focus, it all seems to work out for me.<br />
<br />
It's a shame my classes can't work under that structure.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-37041961510873513022010-10-29T09:36:00.000-07:002010-10-29T09:36:38.152-07:00So, I failed again yesterday. Terribly. Managed to not drag myself out of bed until nine p.m., a full 20 hours after I first tried to sleep. What's the most annoying is that I woke up a couple times, at least halfway, and fell back asleep moments later, anyways. I don't know why I was so tired, and why my alarms and failsafes against this kind of thing failed. It was actually an important, filled day for me: two hours of work, a presentation to a class, and leading a workshop for another class. All of that was missed.<br />
<br />
I'm not entirely sure what to do from this point. Beyond my obvious failing to comprehend the forces at work, both outside and inside my body, that contrive to put me in these situations, I don't know how to handle this situation now that I'm in it. What do I tell the professor I was supposed to present to, that I once again failed to come to her class, even though the presentation was to make up my previous failure? What do I say to her?<br />
<br />
I don't know how to live my life, and I don't know how to figure it out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-80725918363889543872010-10-27T18:56:00.000-07:002010-10-27T18:56:20.251-07:00I'm kind of really excited. I'm working with a friend to launch Second Bit, LLC, a software company. It's going to serve as an incubator for my random application and website ideas, and they will be released under that banner. I will also be taking on some freelance work under that banner. Look out for my stuff in the future.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure what it is about formalising this as a company that excites me so much. I guess I've always had a weakness for official, important-feeling things. Filing for an LLC with the State of New York definitely fits that bill. Is this just another shallowness of my character, another weakness to be accounted for, this need for that feeling of importance?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-2519474403109268222010-10-23T20:40:00.000-07:002010-11-10T14:37:06.269-08:00I picked up a new book about a week ago when my <a href="/search/label/matt">ex-boyfriend</a> was visiting me (that weird occurrence seems to be a common one, for us) called "<a href="http://www.sayeverything.com/">say everything</a>" by Scott Rosenberg. It's just a story of how blogging began, and it is actually a rather fascinating read. I recommend it.<br />
<br />
But I'm sitting here tonight, in a rather glum mood (sleeping for 24 hours straight seems to bring those on), mulling over that ex-boyfriend I mentioned. And I have to ask myself: why do we feel the need to say everything? Why does the human psyche give such a damn about being heard?<br />
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I don't really have an answer, but I do have a guess: It's therapeutic. That's the long and the short of it. Saying everything is a therapeutic endeavour that we all should try at one point or another. It doesn't even matter if anyone's listening, as long as we <i>believe</i> they're listening. This is what blogging, then Facebook Status Updates, and now Twitter is all about. (On a side-note, I'm being blessed with people who are listening because I have a kick-ass group of Twitter followers.)<br />
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I think that, from the time when we were keeping diaries, we have had trouble knowing ourselves. We have no idea how we sound, we forget what used to be important to us, and we cannot seem to get an outside view of ourselves. Writing things down helped that; we could recall that, at one point, the pants we wore to a party was more important to us than who <i>went</i> to the party. We could view something we wrote a month ago, and realise we were kind of an asshole. We could (maybe) consider whether we were still an asshole. For once, we could step outside our bodies and really get to know ourselves.<br />
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I think, over time, we've been developing simpler and simpler ways to do this, and simpler and simpler ways to share it. The act of making it simpler to do makes sense to me, and seems in line with the therapeutic self-improvement the form is meant to accomplish. But the sharing? I'm having trouble deciding why it's so important to people to easily share their thoughts, ideas, feelings, and things that should leave them feeling vulnerable with the <i>world</i>. Why did I challenge myself, not to write every single day, but to make a <i>blog post</i> every day? I can't answer for anyone but me.<br />
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I have a history of starting things and never finishing them. A terrible practice I try to get out of at every opportunity. One of the tricks I've learned, over the past few years, is that getting other people involved <i>shames</i> me into doing things. I'm ashamed of myself when I miss a post here. I'm ashamed of myself when I haven't made enough progress on a project other people are working towards. So I think, by sharing our innermost selves with the world, we're pushing ourselves to share more, engage in this therapy more. Writing is work, and even if it's good for us, we still need to get motivation to do it.<br />
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Why do you share?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-58352533095635482142010-10-22T09:18:00.000-07:002010-10-22T09:18:47.407-07:00I wish I could give more presentations. I love to present; I generally don't get a full grasp on what I'm doing until I'm standing in front of my audience, giving the presentation. I tend to get feelings, or inklings, or ideas, and just put them together and hope for the best. For example, in a few short minutes, I'm giving a presentation on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. All I have so far is alliteration and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXs1voJcJgo&feature=related">this scene</a> from V for Vendetta. No idea what I'm going to do with all that, but I'll be doing something. And I'll figure it out when I get up there.<div><br />
</div><div>Presentations, though, are butchered 99% of the time. The group presenting right now (yes, I'm being a bad audience member and blogging while people present) is literally reading their bits off a piece of paper, standing in a line across the front of the room, one at a time. No character, no personality.</div><div><br />
</div><div>In a few weeks, I'll be teaching a class. I know it will be about grammar and essay construction, I know the students will only be allowed to call me Captain (or "Oh Captain my Captain" if they're ambitious), I know I'll be handing them eye-patches as they enter the classroom and informing them that they will be graded on their ability to wear the eye-patch for the entire period, but that's really all I know about that lesson. And it's all I'm likely to know.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why must people butcher such an art form? A person's attention is valuable. Don't waste it, when they're required to give it to you.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-79859746991503179712010-10-21T17:08:00.001-07:002010-10-21T17:08:17.288-07:00One of my professors said something interesting to me today, something I've been thinking about a lot in the past couple of weeks. She pointed out that she knows I can be a very good teacher, if I'd only show up. Teachers used to say I'm very smart, if I'd only do my work. Now, they don't even care if I do my work, they just want me to show up. And I still can't even do <i>that</i>.<br />
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The problem is, I'm just unreliable. Medication, mental and emotional disorders, a terrible diet, and a sleep schedule that has never been normal all collaborate to make me sleep through classes and work shifts with terrible regularity. If it weren't for this, I could easily be carrying a GPA a full point higher than it is.<br />
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But that makes me think. Should I be punished for this? Probably not. I try my hardest, I really do. And days like today, where I fuck up, where I can't seem to be the grown-up everyone really wants me to be, it's hard for me not to come home and just wallow in self-pity. Nobody yelled at me or disciplined me today, but I still feel like a failure, and like I'll never amount to anything. I feel like I'm wasting my potential, because I can do so much, but I can't seem to drag my ass the places it needs to be so I can do things.<br />
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But my professor also asked if I'm sure I want to be a teacher. No, no I'm not sure. Not sure at all. I know I love to teach. I know I love English. I know I'm very, very good at both, because I'm a junior in college and barely touch my books, but I consistently score highly in these subjects. But as I get closer to that degree, I'm less and less sure I want it.<br />
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I'm not sure I can work within such a defined structure. Our education system <i>sucks</i>, and there's little to nothing I can do to directly fix the issue. That kind of thing always pisses me off, and I'm signing up to deal with it for five days a week until I retire.<br />
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My teaching style is <i>very</i> liberal. Like... radically liberal. And I'm starting to doubt that I'll get a teaching job that won't <i>hurt</i> me to do. Because so much of what we have accepted and implemented in our schools today is <i>wrong</i>. Research shows it. Common sense shows it. Our students know it, and we know it. But we don't fix it. Because it's too hard, and because we can't operate within the fucked-up system we have otherwise. So we continue perpetuating a broken system, and the idea of being part of that kills me. But I may not get hired, otherwise.<br />
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Of course, many people ask why I'm pursuing teaching instead of computers. And honestly, I don't have a real answer anymore. It used to be that I loved to teach, and doing it as a job didn't hurt that love. Working with computers as a job seems soulless, lifeless, and painful. It would crush me to have something I love so much taken away from me, have its soul stripped away, and then force-fed back to me.<br />
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And yet, in about twenty minutes I'm meeting with a friend who wants to incorporate a software company with me. And I'm excited about the idea. And have customers lined up and waiting. And teaching is seeming more and more oppressive, with less room to maneuver.<br />
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Honestly, if I weren't three semesters away from a degree, I'd probably switch majors. I just can't see myself becoming normal in time for me to teach.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1797506047246680660.post-45969174836991484292010-10-19T19:50:00.000-07:002010-10-19T19:50:20.586-07:00<blockquote>"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."</blockquote><div style="text-align: right;">-- Maya Angelou</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">This quote has been written on my wall for a little over a year now, I imagine. I rather like it, probably because it validates my vague feeling-based judgement of people. People fit a certain mould for me, fall into certain categories, based on feelings and vibes I get from them. Maybe that's weird. Maybe that's not. I don't know.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I've been thinking a bit about this, though. Matt, who I'm sure you'll hear plenty of as this blog continues, only stays in my life because of the way he makes me feel. He does terrible things to me, and generally doesn't treat me well, but he makes me feel better when I'm around him. So I keep putting myself around him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes, I wonder how I make people feel. I tend to obsess over it; whether people feel like I'm rude, or unwanted, or not living up to their expectations. It's a constant, nagging fear at the forefront of my mind that makes it really hard for me to be natural in social situations. But I can do it when there's someone there with me, whose feelings towards me I know. It's weird, but having that one other person there gives me the ground to stand on that I need. Without that ground, I just can't... be myself. I don't know why having someone else there that I understand means so much to me, but it does.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10698034663662102694noreply@blogger.com0