It's late, and I've been writing code for a long time. Feels good, though, like a habit left behind for too long. I've been pumping out pages of code, and it all seems to work, for the moment.
The weather has cooled a bit, now that the sun's been down for a long time. All is quiet, with the exception of the crotch-rocket motorcycle that's been driving up and down our hill for the last ten minutes. There are few distractions at this time of day, when it seems that the only things moving are the fan, the motorcycle, the omnipresent summer insects, and me.
I never used to understand why my dad gets up so early in the morning. I think some of it's biological, but I'd hazard a guess that he values the quiet as I have learned to do.
I spent a lot of nights writing code, nights a lot later than this one, during the last four years. I've learned and forgotten programming languages, learned other ones, and generally gained a pretty decent grounding in the field, I hope. I feel like I know what I'm doing, now, and that's a nice thing.
When you read this, it will be nine days until I leave for Scotland. Nine days in which to do everything! Or not to do it, I think. There will be so many loose ends. It's sometimes difficult to try, knowing that much will be left undone. I was chatting with my mother this evening, and said that I look forward to the day when I can be in a place without deadlines.
I don't mean that my work will have no time constraints. I mean that I want to be able to work on something until it's done, not until I have to leave to go back to school, or to Scotland, or whatever. I find myself longing for stability and longevity.
The Watson year is a Wanderjahr, a time for exploring, one of picking up and moving on rather than of putting down roots and sinking in. I wonder--will I tire of that? My project is already much less mobile than many. Sometimes I wish I'd submitted my other project, wish that I was going to travel around Europe and Asia learning to bake breads. Imagine the lines I would have crossed, wandering the world in search of ovens, heat, and flour.
Instead I chose the more introspective route. What will that bring?
There's a film called Oxford Blues that features beautiful scenery, limp storyline, and spectacularly... interesting acting by Rob Lowe and friends. The main character asks a question of Oxford's headmaster, and receives this answer:
"The answer you seek lies somewhere on the other side of that door. Open it, walk through, and close it. This is most important: close it."
I don't know why, but that seems appropriate today.
