As a software engineer my work is occasionally immersive, involving, smothering, all-encompassing. Progress, progress at the rate demanded by timescales and complexity, forces me to hone my mind, to focus, to rebuild the conscious process into a machine that creates abstract phrases of algorithmic awe. The act of creation takes over the normal mental processes; emotion, humanity, are forced into the background. My personality is tempered into a brittle, multi-faceted glittering mechanism in which people can see their reflections from outside, but which they cannot penetrate, but get lost. The code, the data, the algorithms and their precise representations become my world. A fog descends over the real world and I cannot write except in strict syntax, my poetry is subsumed into stanzas of code; all parentheses and semi-colons. Only the brutal critique of the compiler and the patterned translation of the test cases can touch me. I fidget through the day, stabbing at keys and buttons, I whir in the night in place of sleep.
Creation. Let there be results.
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