Let’s get real for just a moment. I hate my job. Hate is a strong word, I know, but I just really don’t like it. There are parts of my job that I like, and enjoy. I like being challenged and I like being able to to set my own schedule, and I like some of the environment. I hate that I know that my job really isn’t going anywhere. It taught me a few things about the real world that I never knew, but I miss the good old days. I miss BBRED, and I miss actually having people at work in which to speak.

I have to make a sidebar here, Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” just started playing. Thanks for the irony there, Windows Media Player.

So I just graduated with an MBA. This is literally the perfect time in my life to choose a course and start moving in that direction. I just can’t figure out what it should be, though. I can continue my education, which seems like the safe bet. I’ve been getting more education for so many years now that I feel like that is actually my job. I can stay where I am, and just live for a little bit. That’s an acceptable route, but it feels too safe. It feels like I’d be wasting the work I’ve put into educating myself. I could apply for a job at a video game company like I’ve been saying I wanted to for so long, but that has it’s own measure of figuring out what is going on. Frankly it’s a little scary.

Those are just the decisions to be made in my professional life, my personal life is so messed up that I don’t really know what options are available anymore. My parents have been all over me to “settle down” and to have kids. I have to say, it’s not like I haven’t been trying to settle down. I don’t really know about the kids part, but every time I talk to them the topic of meeting someone comes up and I honestly dread the conversation. Am I too proud to admit that I am pretty lonely? Maybe, but it’s true. When you’re in this state you start thinking about all the people in your past and how you did, or did not, work.

Mainly, though, I’ve been thinking about the ways I didn’t work. I don’t really think I’ve ever been a great boyfriend. I’ve done all of the things that I’ve felt like have been expected of me, but sometimes I think that wasn’t enough. I can look back through each relationship and really identify areas where I could have been better. Maybe that’s the purpose of dating? Is to discover who you are with someone? I’ve been with people that I really clicked with, but just never had that chance to really connect. I’ve been with people that were so different from me that it was ridiculous to think we’d ever become something.

So maybe it’s time to give up. Maybe it’s time to really let go of the iron grip I have on my life and just let things happen. It seems like an odd decision in the long run, to stop trying.

Okay, Tom Petty “Running Down a Dream” just came on. What in the crap?? I’ve got this serious post about letting my life take over and do it’s own thing and there are all these songs about chasing after life. Maybe that’s the real message I’m supposed to take from this. I need a drink. And someone to drink it with.

Let me explain. Have you ever been in that mode where you are just giving something your all? We call it try-hard mode. It’s when you are really after something and you’ve pulled out all the stops. It’s when you spend countless hours trying to figure out how to make that one thing that doesn’t work, but needs to work, actually work. Try-hard mode is reserved for the special occasions. For the things that really matter. And it also sucks when it doesn’t work out. I’ve been in try-hard mode for the last couple of weeks about something, and it isn’t working out.

I’m to the point where I’m afraid I just want to stop trying because all of my effort has gone to waste, hence the King of Wasted Effort. I’ve been in to someone lately and I’ve been trying everything to be the person that stands out, and I honestly just don’t think it is working. I’ve been met with what I thought to be interest, but I believe I’m slowly starting to feel that the interest may just be that halfhearted stuff that you do when  you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings. That’s the kind of realization that sucks. And it sucks in a lot of ways because you can look back on everything and realize that it was there the whole time.

I think the bad part is not knowing for sure. I can handle someone not being into me, that’s fine. Clearly I can handle someone being into me, that would be even better. But it’s the seeming to be, but not at the same time. Like one moment it’s there and the next it isn’t. Which I’m concluding is actually me just thinking it’s there and it not being there at all. And that’s a really “bleh” feeling. Again, it’s okay for someone to not be into me, but having to really discover that on your own based on nothing but guesses gets a little tiring. It doesn’t help that it is cold, dark, and generally one of those mopey times of the year.

I seriously need a pick-me-up.

However, the conversation I had today just made me really think about how bad things could actually be. I try not to have any delusional thoughts about where I am in life. I really wish some things in my life were different, but I’m working on that. Some decisions I wish I could take back, but we’ve all been there, and there is no going back to fix things. Unless you’re on Quantum Leap, then I guess you have free reign to destroy that whole line of reasoning. The person I spoke to earlier just seemed so fake. Like you know in movies when you’ve got the person who is supposed to bluff their way out of a situation and they are so nervous, or unsure, that they just botch it so badly that you can tell they are completely faking it. That was the impression I got. Like they wanted everything to be so great when they really did not believe it was.

I’m going to take just a second to say that if you’re sitting there thinking that I’m talking about you, you’re wrong. This person was so deluded about their own life that I imagine they think everything is okay. In fact, I’m sure of it. They have tricked themselves into thinking life is great. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for understanding where you are in life and accepting that and making plans to change anything you don’t like. But they were so confused about what they wanted in life that they tricked themselves into thinking they were okay with it. But it wasn’t a complete job, so they were still convincing themselves as we spoke.

I don’t know how people end up that way. It sounds mean to say, and everyone knows I’m not really that kind of person. Okay, maybe I do tend to be rather direct about situations sometimes, but what in the world happens to people that they think of their life this way? The worst part about it is I know that if they’d just come to reality and accept some things, make some changes, they would be okay. But they aren’t going to change. They will continue to convince themselves that the problem is not with them. It’s with the world for thinking differently than they do. Maybe we get set in our ways as we get older, and that is just shining through. I hope I don’t ever do that to myself, but maybe it’s possible and I was just looking into the face of the future.

But honestly, if that’s my future, more than likely I’ll drive my motorcycle off the Grand Canyon.

If there is anything parents like to hear when buying an education for their children it is some fact that they can’t really validate because they don’t have the education to do so. It makes them feel like they are buying their kids the things they couldn’t have. I digress, however. What was I talking about? Oh…the heat. The heat wave that summer had been killer and caused all these students to lose their sanity in ways one didn’t expect the children of the social elite to behave. That’s right, they wore shorts. It was chaos around here for weeks. Students out of uniform, exposing their legs to the elements and approaching life with a devil may care attitude. You may ask what this has to do with me, Harold. Well, it really doesn’t. I just tend to notice things in the environment around me. That’s my job, you see. Noticing things. Specific things, in fact. Like ivy.

It’s true, I take care of the ivy. Its a thankless job, but someone has to do it. The real secret to handling ivy is to let it do what it wants, because honestly there isn’t anything that can be done about it. The stuff grows like crazy. I think it even gets mad at you when you trim it. I don’t have any proof of this specifically, but the first time I trimmed the ivy my cell phone went missing. I think the ivy stole it, then eventually started making phone calls to some woman in Japan. I still haven’t been able to find that cell phone, and the phone calls keep happening. They are costing me a fortune, which is why I can’t afford to be sued. But that is besides the point, or maybe it is the point, in that I don’t really do anything with the ivy because I’m mostly afraid of what it will do back.

This does leave me time to pursue my hobby, which is that of a local problem solver. It all started one dark and stormy night. Wait, we’ve already done the intro, haven’t we? But this is a new story, within the story I’m already telling you. This could get pretty confusing. I just realized it rains a lot here. What is with that? I wonder if the ivy has something to do with it. I think those scientists who invented the ivy may have gone a bit too far and instilled some evil genius. That’s why the ivy is spreading so fast, it’s trying to take over the world. But that’s a story for another day. Where was I? Oh, raining. But wait, I was sidetracked from something else before then. Oh, how it all started.

A young woman approached me, beautiful only in the way that a mother would love. It’s true, she was not a looker. She said she had a problem, “I’ve got a problem,” she said. I remember it clearly. I can’t help but remember it, she stands out pretty badly in my memory.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, giving her my best tolerating gaze. I knew that this was going to be a challenge that I would appreciate. This could get my mind off that ivy and how hard it fought back against my attempts to curtail its growth.

“I’ve lost my boyfriend,” she went on to explain. Apparently he was the son of a wealthy businessman, which is no shock around here, and he had recently went missing. She wanted me to find the guy because I was the only one who would listen to her problems. I’m not sure how she heard about me, maybe she had gotten a phone call from my cell phone. Looking back now I should have asked her if she had seen it. Anyway, I agreed to take the case. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t actually going to look for the guy. She wasn’t paying anything and it’s clear that he was just hiding from her. I sent her on her way and from that day forward I had a name for solving people’s problems. Mostly it was me who told other people that I had the name for solving people’s problems, but that’s how names start, right?

That’s my story. I’m sure I’ll have lots more to tell when I’m not fighting back this awful ivy. Like the time Professor Newton lost her wedding ring.

I’ve been on a few dates in the past few weeks. Most of which haven’t really gone all that well. A few were really good, but then there is that complicated area of trying to figure out how to interact with someone and make them interested. I don’t really think it’s possible to make someone interested in you, but I guess you can put all of the intriguing stuff out there and hope that something catches their eye. It’s amazing how complacent you get when you are in a relationship with the whole dating thing. I’m reminded of Fight Club, the scene in the bar where Edward Norton’s character is talking about his condo. Something along the lines of “You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life.  Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you’re satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you’ve got your sofa issue handled.” A relationship is the same way. You go on a few dates, you get interested in someone, and then you become an “item” and then you’re done with the whole dating thing. You don’t have to worry about being so charming that it oozes out of your pores, or be mindful of what you say so you don’t make people uncomfortable.

Granted, you still do these things when you are in a relationship, but you have more leeway. Eventually you’ll do most every dumb thing you can do in front of this person and they will accept it for who you are. Dating often feels like an interview for the most interesting person in the world. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy dating, usually. It’s great to learn about people, and to try and find cheesy ways to impress them. I enjoy just listening to people talk and finding out what makes them tick. The uncertainty of it is just the bad part. You can be totally into someone and they could care less. You don’t know until it reaches the point where it is going to be too late for one or the other of you. So the solution is to become a celebrity. They have easy dating lives, right? I mean, celebrity status already catapults people into the area of not really having to be be interesting, just willing.

I honestly didn’t mean for this to turn into a rant about dating, so lets move on. What are we moving on to? Good question. I have a final this week. Hmm, I should study for that. And maybe I should get some work done. Yeah, instead of me typing, I’m going to do that instead.

I think this is why I read xkcd. I’ve gone through the same situation more times than I’d like to admit. For all the random computer things that can happen, that aren’t supposed to happen, I sure do have a lot of them happen. Me and that one other guy on the internet. Maybe it’s actually me from another universe?

The language used to write computer programs is really that simple. It may look a little different with all of the symbols used, the way it is spaced, and things like that, but you can think of writing programs as writing instructions in a different language that looks like English. That’s the simple part about writing software. The hard part is training your brain to think at a basic logic level and realizing every step that needs to take place in order for that to happen. When it comes to programming you have to think about and create each step so that the program performs correctly. We can’t just check to see if our name is the one on the front of the envelope if we don’t know what the name on the front of the envelope is. Even that part gets simple after a while. But that’s when things begin to get complicated. Programming has several constructs within it that are for advanced use. The array, for example. An array is a sequential list of things with the same name. In real life, this would be like having ten cats all named Baxter. Baxter[0] is the cat with the black stripe on his face, while Baxter[1] is the cat with white feet. Arrays make sense in programming because you’re often dealing with a bunch of something. Like names from a database. When you pull names from a database, you usually pull all of them because you are doing something specific with them.

But now that you  have all of those names you need to do something with that data, like list the names out. However, there isn’t any way to just tell the computer to list all the names. You have to list the names one at a time and perform operations like capitalization, or make some names appear bold if they are guys, or whatever the case may be. Thus we have the loop. A loop is simply a logical function that goes through every item in an array until a condition is met. Now, this is the most simplified way to describe a loop because they can become very complicated. We can create loops that do many things, like loop only ten times, or loop until we get to first names starting with the letter “c”. There is code behind it to make them do so, but the logic behind it is simple.

Where things get complicated is when you are dealing with arrays within arrays, and loops within loops, within loops. Sometimes you have an array that is returned from a database which includes a lot of information. For instance, someone’s name, their email address, etc. So when you pull all of this information, you have an array of arrays, or a multidimensional array.  And to get information from this massive data cube, you have to loop through each record from the database, and then loop through each result of the loop to check various things. So in the problem I am working on right now I have a big cube of data, that has three loops working to produce a simple list of names divided by first letter of the last name. Sometimes trying to force your brain to produce these types of things feels like you’re shoving a boulder through a keyhole. While our brains function like computers, they do it naturally. I can look at a list of names and just know how to parse it correctly. However, as a programmer I have to setup so many checks and balances to do the same thing that it can be frustrating. It is like I’m having to re-teach myself to think.

I wonder if this is the same case for stroke victims who have damage to language centers, or motor functions. Your brain knows it should know how to do these things, but forcing it to actually do them seems like a gigantic hurdle.

One might think that his type of person would attract all sorts, those who wished to be praised for their excellent abilities in art, music, literature, or philosophy, he appreciated them all. Perhaps those who needed the kind words of a soft-spoken, but well-informed, man. Some could use his advice in the ways of this, or that, or whatever it was someone would want to know. If he did not know the answer, it was assured that he would find it for the inquirer. Those who were aware of him, mostly those outside of his building, assumed he had many a friend or confidant, or whatever the case may be. It was for that reason, exactly, and that reason alone, that Adam was completely alone. Adam lived his life as a simple person, and he tried to never bother anyone with his cares. As such, no one was ever bothered to know Adam in more than a passing knowledge, and Adam was never bothered to make a fuss about the situation.

That is until Adam met Penny. Adam worked in a library, which could be said to fit one of his respectful, dignified nature. He liked his job, because he got to take care of older books that were slowly dying from the thing that kills all: time. Adam’s job was to sit in a room all day and to restore books that were brought from all over the world. The job fit Adam, and his quiet nature, often he would spend the whole day without seeing anyone else he worked with. Largely he was ignored, because he did not make the normal efforts to become friends with his co-workers. Many didn’t even know his name, just that he was the “Restorations guy”. So it was that Adam worked in the quietest place in the city, a library, and the quietest part of the library.

Penny had been hired as an extra hand, someone to run between offices carrying messages, answering phones when people had to step away from their desks, and generally the types of things that any big building needs someone to do when only a select few work there. Penny’s fist task in the Library was to introduce herself and learn a bit about each of the offices so she could be effective at her job. It was for this reason that she lightly knocked on the door of Adam’s office, mostly glorified lab with a desk in the corner, and all the implements to preen over the brittle pages of ancient books front and center.

“Hello,” she began, when she was him look up from his work. “My name is Penny. I’ve been hired to be the office ‘gopher’, you know, errand girl. Anyway, I was asked to come by here and introduce myself and see what it is you do so I can be of help if you ever need it.” She recited the lines in a manner that suggested this was not the first time she had said them. Adam knew she must be getting tired of having to say the same thing, ask the same questions, and listen to the same answers that everyone else give. He could sympathize with her, just because that was the way he thought. He decided he would liven things up just a bit.

“Hello, Penny. My name is Adam. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, standing and removing his gloves. She smiled at him, in the way that is required when someone  is greeted cordially, and then stood waiting, somewhat impatient for things to get moving. Penny was not the most patient of individuals, having an attitude that life was passing before her in leaps and bounds and if she did not go out to experience it she would regret it until the day she died. This made her seem flighty, unsettled, and starkly young. It was showing now as she wished to finish up her task and move on to the next that would be required of her. Adam, however, only smiled at her, and gestured her forward.

“Please, take a seat,” he motioned to the high stool that sat behind the large raised metal platform that held his tools and his latest work. “You’ll need to put on these gloves,” she shot him a glance of astonishment as she settled herself onto the stool. “Just put them on. This office restores old books, manuscripts, that type of thing. The oils in your fingers would just hasten the process, so you have to wear gloves if you handle anything in here. Now, the book in front of you is several hundred years old, from France. Do you speak French?” She shook her head at the question, still wondering what she might be doing sitting at his desk. “Well, no matter, the book is still very old and needs gentle treatment. You see, the binding is letting the pages slip free. The goal is to record the information in the book, then restore and repair it as best we can. What you’re about to do is turn the page.”

Her shocked look made Adam smile on the inside. It wasn’t that he enjoyed the ruse as much as the reaction to it. The book, while old, and somewhat valuable, was in much better condition that it seemed. However, if she were to develop a respect and understanding for how valuable and careful one had to handle older volumes, this would be the best way to teach her. He could sense, from the moment he saw her, that she was impatient, headstrong, and very resistant to being told what to do unless something was of the utmost importance. He could understand, and valued, her individuality, but sometimes there were lessons that must be learned.

“I’m not sure I should be doing this,” her voice rang with the uncertainty of someone who took one step too far into the lion’s den and just now realized that the animals were home.

“Nonsense,” he said quietly. Walking beside her, he gave her instructions on how to flip the page without putting too much pressure on the binding. She reached for the page in the way he taught her, but did it too quickly, and he made a slight cough in the back of his throat that caused her to freeze. Moving behind her, he placed his hand on hers. In that briefest of touch he felt not only his body, but his soul, shiver. It was as if every nerve ending in his skin came alive and he felt goosebumps prickle up on his arms and down his neck and back. He felt as if he had walked from a hot room onto an iceberg and he basked in the refreshing feeling that flowed through him. He felt her stiffen at his touch, her body becoming rigid and tense. He let her hand slip from his, and then backed away from the desk.

She stood wordlessly, removed the gloves, and walked from the room. He was not sure what had just happened, but he knew she had felt it as well. She had not acknowledged what had happened, and walked away from him without speaking, but he knew that she had felt the same thing he had. A connection between the two of them that suddenly made his life feel darker without it. Perhaps he should try to catch her, to ask her if she was feeling what he was feeling now, the twisted despair of not being close to her. Adam, a man who had gone through life alone, walking the empty streets of his years with a heedless stride, unaware of what he was missing, was shocked to find himself lonely. In the briefest connection she had turned the beacon light of life upon his face, but now it was removed and she was gone.

He slumped onto the stool at his desk, placing his elbows on the table, and let his head sink into his hands. He began to read the words of the book in front of him, though he spoke very little French he had learned enough to copy the words correctly. He spoke them aloud, stumbling over the translation in his mind, “The passion of love, experienced when one being’s fate is intertwined with another’s is the most powerful of forces. It can be understood by few, but felt by many.”

He sat silently, contemplating the words. Surely they were just a coincidence, some ramblings of a French love song. He had felt it though, and he was determined to see if she had felt it as well.

• That sucked. But I guess I had little expectation that it was going to go through.
• I’m a little bummed, but mostly because I have a feeling there won’t ever be any follow through.
• I somehow feel this is my fault. I didn’t really think I got my hopes up, but maybe I did, and maybe I’m a bit disappointed.
• Bleh.