3am Phases

I’ve been staring at this ‘kihee’ laptop of mine for hours. I consider myself a techie. Most times you’ll find my eyes in deep conversations with my faded keyboards, typing, deleting, retyping. Damn!!! These codes that never work. My browsers should be worn out by now, I overwork them too much. At least, my brain is zombied in caffeine and sugar, am on red alert, catch me at the kill zone, 3am phases.

The thing about programming, for me, is the rush you get when a code finally gets its act together. A module may seem simple, but the rocky patches and boxing rounds between your insanity and your fingers, is actually quite difficult. So us robots are plagued with tough deadlines for simple difficult silly things, life really knows to stick it into us. If you’ve ever had a chance to know me, not by passing but really know me, being part of my counsel, you’ll know I’m pretty annoying when stressed. I argue about needless things. Truth be told, when am ranting out, it’s because of the little silly things that get to me. My psychiatrist (yes, my mind has divided itself into roles, there’s a doctor a driver and a priest too) terms it as my OCD. Whenever, I see common sense kind of things not being so common to people, I rant. Whenever, I know I can solve a problem that I haven’t yet, I rant. Ranting is a part of me, it’s one of those flaws that we are gifted with at birth. Take me as I am.

Am quiet right now. That’s a problem, something must be up. I guess I decided to dump my thoughts in this post that probably has no meaning. If you are waiting for a light bulb moment, get out of here!!! This post won’t uplift your mood or leave you feeling some type of way. This is a no sense post. Call it nonsense.

Just an ordinary programmer, who decided to screw someone else’s time just like this code decided to do mine. In retrospect though, our lives aren’t so different after all, the finance guys, the investment guys, the flying guys, the clueless guys, we are all similar, life always decides to f**k us differently. Don’t you agree?

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