Switching Off
After spending all day with my head buried in hilariously complex programming to force computers to do something dreamed up by managers at some far flung company that their staff will hate, I find it very difficult to switch off.
You might think the several miles on the mountain bike would create some kind of mental separation between work and homeand you would be wrong. I typically pedal along, half listening to a podcast, and half daydreaming about the code I had been writing half an hour earlier.
There seems to be some strange law in the universe at play toothat the greatest moments of clarity when working on something complicated will only occur with a limited amount of the day left.
There is another strange law that insists that the more complex a problem, the more cretins will arrive to disrupt your train of thoughtwith a seemingly inverse relationship to the importance of their mission.
Maybe the reason we cannot switch off is because we secretly love what we door at least we love the part where we are not having to deal with the morons, red tape, paperwork, phone calls, emails, or whatever else. We love sitting in front of a screen full of code, and becoming Flynn;I tried to picture clusters of information as they moved through the computer. What did they look like? Ships? motorcycles? Were the circuits like freeways? I kept dreaming of a world I thought I'd never see. And then, one day