I like computers

I've always known computers as a source of comfort and reassurance. Electronic circuits are impervious (or oblivious) to human emotion; they can't read the room, and it's better that way. They only know to do precisely what they're told, which makes them unbelievably smart (through a human's eyes) and outrageously stupid (from a developer's perspective).

All the time I spend in the digital space eventually drew me to writing software. Software development is forgiving, esoteric, twisted, and plain simple. I love writing meaningful programs that I can incorporate into my regular routine as useful tools and pointless toys. I'm a spirit of few convictions, but in software, I will bicker and shout and boast. Software development is a beautiful and frustrating art, and I wouldn't change a thing about it.

I rarely share my projects. I don't know many people who share my passion for software. I keep a lot of my projects to myself, even when I'm bursting with pride over my work. I still make nearly everything publicly accessible online, most of it bundled with detailed documentation as if anyone will ever care enough to read it. I station my sculptures in the woods, to neither share nor hide them, but to let them grow old.

I wonder how large a portion of my life will have been spent in front of a computer screen. When I'm in a frenzy writing code at unspeakable hours, I'm not concerned about the fact that there's more to life than this. I am a child of the Internet, and I'm not sure when I'll ever be born.