Test Run

I'm at an impasse.

Have you ever heard of Radiolab? It's a radio show broadcast from NYC by these two guys that speak on matters of science, technology, and other stuff that I have yet to hear. The first episode I heard was on the topic of choice. The person who told me about the show presented this argument: when it comes time to make a decision, the act of choosing is more important than the choice you make. In other words, it doesn't matter which option you pick, just pick something.

Imagine a single bacterium, and imagine a chunk of food some distance away from it. The bacterium is trying to make its way to the chunk of food, but doesn't know the exact path...as a result, it takes a squiggly trip full of wrong turns and backtracks and looping detours, but it eventually finds the chunk of food. To an obeserver tracing its path, the route appears to be all over the place. But step back, and keep going back...from the right distance, the right perspective, the wayward path looks more and more like a straight line.

I quit my job as a software developer about a month ago, opting to launch a writing career. Do you need some time to make comments about what a stupid, irrational, scary, quixotic, cliche, not-too-well-thought-out move that was? I'll wait. Actually, you're probably just shrugging your shoulders, a "whatever, I don't know this guy" kind of reaction. I realize the truth; the only person that feels as strongly about my move is me. It seems to me to be ground-breakingly, earth-shatteringly significant because...well, because it's happening to me.

I've grown tired of thinking about all the details that frame this as a bad decision. I made the move because I couldn't stand coding: I couldn't stand the rigidity of logic, the condescension in almost every message board comment when I searched for help, the expectation of technological omniscience from anyone who found out I was a programmer. I sucked at it. I loved the people I worked with, but they couldn't sit down and bang out code for me. And in the end, neither could I...so I quit.

And now here I am. The comforting thing about "here" is that it has substance. I can look around and see the surroundings of my sister's house, where I'm staying, and count the dwindling dollars in my bank account. "There" isn't as clear. Trying to imagine it is both unsettling and exhilarating. "There" hasn't really been seen or experienced by too many people, if any at all. "There" is where I'm trying to go -- to find a niche in this crazy period of time in which we live, when so many things are changing at such a rapid rate that history's stenographer is wishing for speech recognition.

Details to come, but it felt good to get something out there for right now...thanks, Penelope.