Something Profound

I wonder sometimes about the purpose of my life. Not for too long, mind you, because I’m certain that there is no overarching purpose. Nothing magnificent or overwhelming. There will be no heroic movie about my art making where I fling paint on a canvas while a cigarette dangles from my lips.

At best there will be a 30 minute clip of me bickering while playing games posted on youtube.

These types of certainties are disheartening to say the least.

However, isolation and insignificance drive me to one thing and one purpose - to figure myself out. How did I end up here? Why? and, to be grandiose, who am i?

Normally, I’d chalk this up to 21st century narcissism, however, I don’t fancy myself. I do the opposite. I loathe myself. If anything I recognize that my biggest failure is me. (which apparently is good ol’ fashioned narcissism after all)

So, I wander about in my memories–trying to trace the events that steered my course. Hoping, perhaps vainly, that I can at least provide a slight insight to fellow isolated wanderers - stay off this course. etc.

Come On, Man

The bug is found. I hate it.

As I type this I find that I can’t always get what I want.

I type and type and type and type and the bug is just there.

But I wonder. Have I solved it? This is the longest I’ve been able to type without issue.

I have hope now.

Hope terrifies me and yet…


I’m finding talking to be a complete waste of time. Even thinking, at this point, is dubious.

One can spend their life on autopilot and it makes little difference than the one who spends their life fighting against the odds. The difference is only in the romantic tragedy of the fighter.

We’re not remembered. We’re not mourned. Life moves on.

Memories get corrupted by bitrot and eventually they are vanquished by death. Nothing remains.

Get over it.

To Be Somewhere

As part of my robotics studies in college I built a robot that, amongst other things, steer around an object. If there was an impact, however, it would also play a midi version of a Neil Diamond song.

Three things occured to me during my presentation–I am:

  • unreasonable
  • impractical
  • quirky (humorously so–I hope)

To sooth myself from any internal critique I like to believe that this is just part of my charm–like a delightful character from a Dickens novel…some sort of tech/future version of Wilkins Micawber.

And during this trawl through the memory it brought me back to the 90s. Being terminally uncool it was natural that I ended up watching every possible UFO documentary I could find in addition to being a big X-Files fan. The desire to believe that there’s something just outside of this terribly dry reality is just too good to pass up.

Also, let’s remember that this was the golden age of the internet. It was just mental to be on the internet in the mid-late 90s. Everything just seemed to be important and you always felt like you were right on the cusp of something big. One more search, another page and BOOM! the truth would be revealed.

It was amazing. One of those rare frontiers that only certain people alive at certain times get to experience.

Now, of course, this is sinking into just ridiculous nostalgia and I apologize for that. But as I sat at this computer today and tried to hack out some new code for projects that served a purpose I couldn’t help but dwell on the notion that there can be only so much business code written.

Sure, self driving cars are cool but they’re only really cool if everyone gets one. And, the ironic-twilight zone-consequences of this new reality will be that only the rich can afford to drive their own cars on private tracks while the rest of us are ushered around on our endless commute from office job to home and back.

Similarly, Facebooks is great for connecting with all your friends so long as you keep using Facebook. Stop using it for a while and you suddenly find out how lonely of a world this place can be.

Perhaps it is just me being plagued by a childish refusal to concede when left with no other option. Something got left out of me when I was being built and I find that the part of me that should just “go along” with things is missing and/or broken. I glitch out–see another possibility and desire for that to be the real one. Then spend the rest of my time trying to find a path to it or just simply build it myself.