Excuse me, there's no pretense here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.
But you can't stop knowing something, can you?
To be a programmer is to develop a carefully managed relationship with error. There's no getting around it. You either make your accomodations with failure, or the work will become intolerable.
We build our computer (systems) the way we build our cities: over time, without a plan, on top of ruins
The corollary of constant change is ignorance. This is not often talked about: we computer experts barely know what we're doing. We're good at fussing and figuring out. We function well in a sea of unknowns. Our experience has only prepared us to deal with confusion. A programmer who denies this is probably lying, or else is densely unaware of himself.
The programmer, who needs clarity, who must talk all day to a machine that demands declarations, hunkers down into a low-grade annoyance. It is here that the stereotype of the programmer, sitting in a dim room, growling from behind Coke cans, has its origins. The disorder of the desk, the floor; the yellow Post-It notes everywhere; the whiteboards covered with scrawl: all this is the outward manifestation of the messiness of human thought. The messiness cannot go into the program; it piles up around the programmer.
Software engineering is not about right and wrong but only better and worse
Strong professional communities risk and sometimes relish conflict.
So many things make me come alive, like when I just finish meditating and I open my eyes and it's as if everything is much clearer. I feel like everything in my body has calmed down, and I feel this sense of joy because I am in touch with what's most important in my life. I also come most alive when I am with my family and closest friends who make me feel recharged just by being with them.
I'm just a kid from Bronx who got lucky.
Our lives are fed by kind words and gracious behavior. We are nourished by expressions like 'excuse me', and other such simple courtesies.