On programming - for inspiration
First things first, just want to note that I accidentally created an infinite loop of ‘boobsboobsboobsboobs….’ on node.js and it caused my computer to overheat. Something I might want to remember sometime in the future when it’s all starting to feel a bit too serious.
If I’m too deep in to get a laugh out of that (and let’s hope I never will be), I want to remember what I talked about with my dad and my friend Amy over the last couple of days.
I’m starting to see glimpses of the bigger picture of computing: how each new layer builds upon and expands the scope of the previous, abstracted and abstracted into infinite possibility. I say ‘glimpse’ because at present I only get a taste before my own processor starts to overheat and I have to take a break. Luckily, brains work similarly: connections build locally and then integrate globally. Each new frontier a sea of pieces until one connects. Then, like dominoes, an image cascades into view.
When I explained my newfound understanding to Amy tonight, she told me something her manager said about programming in reference to the podcast “S-Town.” The main character in “S-Town” fixes antique clocks, which is a rather complex task due both to their age and singularity in design. From the podcast:
"I’m told fixing an old clock can be maddening. You’re constantly wondering if you’ve just spent hours going down a path that will likely take you nowhere, and all you’ve got are these vague witness marks [dents, discolorations, etc that suggest parts that were there] which might not even mean what you think they mean."
There is no instruction manual for an antique clock, so fixing one means getting creative. Amy’s manager said that programming is similar. There are no (explicit) instructions and if the tools you need don’t exist, you build them yourself.
I listened to “S-Town” last April. I remember because shortly after finishing it, I dreamt that I made a clock that tells the time based on when different flowers bloom.
If someone told me a year and a half ago that I’d be excited by the idea of diving headlong into problem-solving free fall (prompt: ‘please build your own parachute, here is a pair of pruners and several staples - go’), I’d have thought they were out of their fucking mind.
But that was before I dreamt that I made a clock out of flowers. Before I learned that one actually can make a functioning clock out of flowers. Before I understood what that possibility meant. It is only now, after following that dream across health, science, education, and software engineering, that I understand its significance.
In my flower dream my brain took two seemingly unrelated concepts - a living thing and a mechanical device - and used the pattern that connected them to create something new. The sheer joy of discovering that flower clocks are indeed a real thing made my week and sparked a belief in a side of myself I’d never given much weight to.
I took that side by the hand and jumped into the vortex of confusion, self-doubt, delight, and deep learning that, fifteen months later, deposited me across the table from my friend Amy to discuss the structure of computing.
Here I am, for the first time seeing the parts of my (rather circuitous, of late) path connect and extend into the future. Over the last year, I learned to trust my skill with idea integration and synthesis. I am creative, who knew!? Today, I understood how perfect a medium computer programming is for that type of thinking.
Nothing makes sense until it does.
Pretty psyched.
If I’m too deep in to get a laugh out of that (and let’s hope I never will be), I want to remember what I talked about with my dad and my friend Amy over the last couple of days.
I’m starting to see glimpses of the bigger picture of computing: how each new layer builds upon and expands the scope of the previous, abstracted and abstracted into infinite possibility. I say ‘glimpse’ because at present I only get a taste before my own processor starts to overheat and I have to take a break. Luckily, brains work similarly: connections build locally and then integrate globally. Each new frontier a sea of pieces until one connects. Then, like dominoes, an image cascades into view.
When I explained my newfound understanding to Amy tonight, she told me something her manager said about programming in reference to the podcast “S-Town.” The main character in “S-Town” fixes antique clocks, which is a rather complex task due both to their age and singularity in design. From the podcast:
"I’m told fixing an old clock can be maddening. You’re constantly wondering if you’ve just spent hours going down a path that will likely take you nowhere, and all you’ve got are these vague witness marks [dents, discolorations, etc that suggest parts that were there] which might not even mean what you think they mean."
There is no instruction manual for an antique clock, so fixing one means getting creative. Amy’s manager said that programming is similar. There are no (explicit) instructions and if the tools you need don’t exist, you build them yourself.
I listened to “S-Town” last April. I remember because shortly after finishing it, I dreamt that I made a clock that tells the time based on when different flowers bloom.
If someone told me a year and a half ago that I’d be excited by the idea of diving headlong into problem-solving free fall (prompt: ‘please build your own parachute, here is a pair of pruners and several staples - go’), I’d have thought they were out of their fucking mind.
But that was before I dreamt that I made a clock out of flowers. Before I learned that one actually can make a functioning clock out of flowers. Before I understood what that possibility meant. It is only now, after following that dream across health, science, education, and software engineering, that I understand its significance.
In my flower dream my brain took two seemingly unrelated concepts - a living thing and a mechanical device - and used the pattern that connected them to create something new. The sheer joy of discovering that flower clocks are indeed a real thing made my week and sparked a belief in a side of myself I’d never given much weight to.
I took that side by the hand and jumped into the vortex of confusion, self-doubt, delight, and deep learning that, fifteen months later, deposited me across the table from my friend Amy to discuss the structure of computing.
Here I am, for the first time seeing the parts of my (rather circuitous, of late) path connect and extend into the future. Over the last year, I learned to trust my skill with idea integration and synthesis. I am creative, who knew!? Today, I understood how perfect a medium computer programming is for that type of thinking.
Nothing makes sense until it does.
Pretty psyched.
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