Chapters, Retrospectively

When I was a kid I always imagined that I would grow up to be some kind of writer, since that seemed to be the only realistic way to make a living using my imagination — I was never good at the graphic arts but words came effortlessly. Most of us — probably all of us — never end up being the authors of our own lives, but we do end up being the authors of each other's lives. This makes all of our lives equal parts fear and joy. Our life-chapters rarely end in ways or at times that we think they should.

Becoming a writer was never written into my story, but becoming a programmer was — and I am glad for all the forces that nudged me down this path. The programmer occupies a space between that of writer and engineer. Like the writing of writers, our creations can be expressed and performed in many ways — yet we cannot express everything. Like the engineering of engineers, our creations are constrained and measured by physics — yet we only have to regard one physical unit. These properties tend make for an interesting profession, that sometimes crosses the line into strangeness.

Somebody once said, that if you want to find the strangest creatures, you have dive to the deepest depths. I do not know if this is true, but it certainly feels true. Interesting problems tend to require strange solutions, and to find those you have to put on your scuba gear, grab your flash light, and leave the shore and surface behind.

The last few years at Interlock were a very long and rewarding diving expedition. These depths revealed to us many delightfully strange creatures, yet the kind of creature we were hoping to find still eludes us. I want to keep searching, but the oxygen is running out, the flash-light batteries are dying, and I miss the smell of the ocean breeze and warmth of the morning sun.

I have to start making my way back up to the surface.