A Day Away From a Glowing Screen
One thing I've noticed and written about having been whacked dramatically hard in the noggin' is that my focus works but doesn't. Learning what that means has taken observation and time. The difficulty is that I have to observe while I'm doing, but while I'm doing, I'm concentrating on what I'm doing, not on observing.
Why do I suddenly feel like I'm writing what I read years ago from J. Krishnamurthi?
Every once in a while, I do something that allows me to see detail from a different perspective. When I'm really fortunate, I get the chance to see from a high-level perspective. Like yesterday. Because it helped me to see, again, how I focus on things that are mostly on the table in front of me.
I took the day off from the computer yesterday and worked on paper. It was depressing. Because it highlighted how regimented and tiny my world is. I have four places to go: the library, Whole Foods, Starbucks, & my racoon-stank room (that I'm six months behind on my rent in.) I do three things: I exercise (mostly walk), study the Bible, and I write. Most of what I write is software, but I try to find work, though I have no idea how I'm going to find work with one pair of pants, four ragged shirts, no money, and smelling like animal excrement.
Coming to the realization that my life is so incredibly small is sad, because it highlights that somebody or somebody's in my life are psychopaths, controlling my life to the point that I look like a desperado, thief, or smell like a psyche-case.
Meanwhile, my inventions could be stolen, because the only people who know about them are me and my son. And his mother. Who's going to know that I invented an electric turbine engine (or 10, 20, or 30 other things, with varying potential) when I'm obviously a psyche-case, or I'm dead by what looks like suicide, because life is hopeless (looking.) I'm surrounded by adults stuck in 14 year-old gangland minds of unbelievable violence.
I'm not paranoid. How do I know? Nobody ever paid attention to me my whole life, except when they needed help, money, or a ride to/from work. All of a sudden I move into a room in a building and I'm invited in to do things after that cup of coffee in the gold lined cup that got me sick like...rabies. Invited in to listen to horror stories and do things I'd never done or normally do, like a child being lead through trauma. Again.
Whatever. I just keep doing what I do. If they have to spend their time messing with a blind man, whose life is so tragically small? Their moral compass broke a long time ago, and I'm sure I'm not the only person they're messing with or have.
But having the day away from a computer? It forced me to do something else. I wrote on paper, instead of a computer. Did I mention my life happens like a guy, at a table, with a light overhead? That's all I am. It hit me hard yesterday while looking for a Starbucks to plug my 2009 laptop into, because...no battery. I think about how to invent things or write my software. I worry about the planet & the health of the systems we're ignoring, and try to maintain a sense of normal in a city populated by 4x more rats than people and way more than ever lived on Easter Island.
Why compare NYC to Easter Island? On Easter Island, the rat population grew out of control. On Easter Island they went from religious, devotional, and nice, to full-on murderous psychopaths. They hunted each other violently and to death. They divided into teams and started hunting each other. Just like what's happening in Manhattan & worldwide. It starts with the mind and ends up taking over the body: "I hate those people", become murderous thoughts, validated by association - like Nazis: "Kill all the foo's". Did I mention I'm on 3 lists on Twitter, all of which start with "JOO". Sounds too close to a Nazi wish-list to me.
Can't make this crap up. Where was I? The rat population in Manhattan is staggeringly huge. It's just the tip of a potential disease vector that threatens to break on humanity like a tidal wave that could kill us all. People come from all over the world into this pit of illness and take it all home in their nostrils, lungs, and on their clothes and everything. We're so smart, yet provably stupid.
But, I digress.
I've been working on sketching out the design of Awesome Sauce Java with Hot Sauce and all the parts in them. Yesterday was a good day, because I was reminded that I keep diving into features, working on them until they're working okay, then running to another feature. Having a plan will help me stabilize and complete the various elements that are required of the language and OS, allowing me to build up and towards a release. I hate that I'm not shipping products. Awesome Sauce Java will help somebody learn faster. That alone makes it worth releasing. Having a schematic of the code base, apps, tools, and gazillion parts in this language will make it possible to start filling in the blanks and getting things moving. It all works well, and there's a lot of proof that it's viable, fast, expressive, and familiar. Only thing keeping it from being released is a plan.
I still can't believe that all the people in my life know that I'm so limited in my ability to function and have refused to help and for many, many years. I must be an asshole.
Then again, when I worked with stadium vendors, many of whom were recovering felons (I hope), they talked about movies, sports, and dating. The guys I'm around now? Talk about crimes, their dad cutting the heads off POW's in WW2, and the guy in the room before me having an M16 that might still be in the room somewhere. Oh boy. I imagine they're starved for attention and reciting stuff from action movies, because I can't imagine anybody but a cop or avid, but lonely movie buff, spewing details about stuff like what I've heard since moving into this place 10/16. Whatever the purpose, the way they talk is disgusting, especially compared to inventing things. Maybe all they want to do is pollute my mind and make me think and look like the fool I am...
You just have to see and hear, to even begin to fathom that people have hobbies that sound like, "destroy that man/woman to death". But that's what gangs, mafias, and even religions are: people who lack health promising other people who lack health things that aren't real, because what else are sick people going to promise and believe, but total, unsustainable nonsense?
Meanwhile, the house literally has had raccoon inside. The worst animal for spreading disease, probably even worse than rats. My life smells like vile animal excrement. It's unreal what I'm living in.
So, Awesome Sauce Java with Hot Sauce had a great day yesterday. If I post this article, I'll follow up with more details of what I did and with engineering specificity in a separate article. I have to write crap like this to blow the carbon off the spark plugs to get the engine RPM up to speed, or this loose and rattly pile of nuts and bolts will never get off the ground.
Have a great day.
Michael
3/12/18
Why do I suddenly feel like I'm writing what I read years ago from J. Krishnamurthi?
Every once in a while, I do something that allows me to see detail from a different perspective. When I'm really fortunate, I get the chance to see from a high-level perspective. Like yesterday. Because it helped me to see, again, how I focus on things that are mostly on the table in front of me.
I took the day off from the computer yesterday and worked on paper. It was depressing. Because it highlighted how regimented and tiny my world is. I have four places to go: the library, Whole Foods, Starbucks, & my racoon-stank room (that I'm six months behind on my rent in.) I do three things: I exercise (mostly walk), study the Bible, and I write. Most of what I write is software, but I try to find work, though I have no idea how I'm going to find work with one pair of pants, four ragged shirts, no money, and smelling like animal excrement.
Coming to the realization that my life is so incredibly small is sad, because it highlights that somebody or somebody's in my life are psychopaths, controlling my life to the point that I look like a desperado, thief, or smell like a psyche-case.
Meanwhile, my inventions could be stolen, because the only people who know about them are me and my son. And his mother. Who's going to know that I invented an electric turbine engine (or 10, 20, or 30 other things, with varying potential) when I'm obviously a psyche-case, or I'm dead by what looks like suicide, because life is hopeless (looking.) I'm surrounded by adults stuck in 14 year-old gangland minds of unbelievable violence.
I'm not paranoid. How do I know? Nobody ever paid attention to me my whole life, except when they needed help, money, or a ride to/from work. All of a sudden I move into a room in a building and I'm invited in to do things after that cup of coffee in the gold lined cup that got me sick like...rabies. Invited in to listen to horror stories and do things I'd never done or normally do, like a child being lead through trauma. Again.
Whatever. I just keep doing what I do. If they have to spend their time messing with a blind man, whose life is so tragically small? Their moral compass broke a long time ago, and I'm sure I'm not the only person they're messing with or have.
But having the day away from a computer? It forced me to do something else. I wrote on paper, instead of a computer. Did I mention my life happens like a guy, at a table, with a light overhead? That's all I am. It hit me hard yesterday while looking for a Starbucks to plug my 2009 laptop into, because...no battery. I think about how to invent things or write my software. I worry about the planet & the health of the systems we're ignoring, and try to maintain a sense of normal in a city populated by 4x more rats than people and way more than ever lived on Easter Island.
Why compare NYC to Easter Island? On Easter Island, the rat population grew out of control. On Easter Island they went from religious, devotional, and nice, to full-on murderous psychopaths. They hunted each other violently and to death. They divided into teams and started hunting each other. Just like what's happening in Manhattan & worldwide. It starts with the mind and ends up taking over the body: "I hate those people", become murderous thoughts, validated by association - like Nazis: "Kill all the foo's". Did I mention I'm on 3 lists on Twitter, all of which start with "JOO". Sounds too close to a Nazi wish-list to me.
Can't make this crap up. Where was I? The rat population in Manhattan is staggeringly huge. It's just the tip of a potential disease vector that threatens to break on humanity like a tidal wave that could kill us all. People come from all over the world into this pit of illness and take it all home in their nostrils, lungs, and on their clothes and everything. We're so smart, yet provably stupid.
But, I digress.
I've been working on sketching out the design of Awesome Sauce Java with Hot Sauce and all the parts in them. Yesterday was a good day, because I was reminded that I keep diving into features, working on them until they're working okay, then running to another feature. Having a plan will help me stabilize and complete the various elements that are required of the language and OS, allowing me to build up and towards a release. I hate that I'm not shipping products. Awesome Sauce Java will help somebody learn faster. That alone makes it worth releasing. Having a schematic of the code base, apps, tools, and gazillion parts in this language will make it possible to start filling in the blanks and getting things moving. It all works well, and there's a lot of proof that it's viable, fast, expressive, and familiar. Only thing keeping it from being released is a plan.
I still can't believe that all the people in my life know that I'm so limited in my ability to function and have refused to help and for many, many years. I must be an asshole.
Then again, when I worked with stadium vendors, many of whom were recovering felons (I hope), they talked about movies, sports, and dating. The guys I'm around now? Talk about crimes, their dad cutting the heads off POW's in WW2, and the guy in the room before me having an M16 that might still be in the room somewhere. Oh boy. I imagine they're starved for attention and reciting stuff from action movies, because I can't imagine anybody but a cop or avid, but lonely movie buff, spewing details about stuff like what I've heard since moving into this place 10/16. Whatever the purpose, the way they talk is disgusting, especially compared to inventing things. Maybe all they want to do is pollute my mind and make me think and look like the fool I am...
You just have to see and hear, to even begin to fathom that people have hobbies that sound like, "destroy that man/woman to death". But that's what gangs, mafias, and even religions are: people who lack health promising other people who lack health things that aren't real, because what else are sick people going to promise and believe, but total, unsustainable nonsense?
Meanwhile, the house literally has had raccoon inside. The worst animal for spreading disease, probably even worse than rats. My life smells like vile animal excrement. It's unreal what I'm living in.
So, Awesome Sauce Java with Hot Sauce had a great day yesterday. If I post this article, I'll follow up with more details of what I did and with engineering specificity in a separate article. I have to write crap like this to blow the carbon off the spark plugs to get the engine RPM up to speed, or this loose and rattly pile of nuts and bolts will never get off the ground.
Have a great day.
Michael
3/12/18
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