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Monday, May 25, 2009

2.txt

You've got to start working, you know.

Not yet.

Then when?

I dunno. Maybe in a few hours.

Look, what time are you leaving for rehearsal?

Hm. I guess that'd be around 6:30. That's the time it usually is if I can get a ride.

Very good. That means you've got around five hours or so, when you take out all the eating and playing piano you do. How many Lost episodes do you have?

Umm, let me check.
Five.

Ha! You'd spend all your time on that, wouldn't you?

I guess I would.

Listen to me very carefully. When I say "Start working.", you stop everything and you start working.

Just like that?

Just like that. You need to start working at once. I don't care what else you'd like to be doing; your game is more important.

Why do you care?

You know why. So are we okay?

I guess so.

When I say "Start working.", what do you do right away?

I start working. You're being annoyingly condescending, you know.

I love you, but you and I both know you deserve no better.

Gee, thanks.

For now you can do whatever you like. But only for a half-hour or so,

A half-hour? That's not enough!

An hour, then. No more.

Okay.

Good. By the way, when I say "Start working.", you don't argue. You don't talk back, you don't try to work a deal. I'm not going to put up with that. When I say "Start working.", you WORK. End of story.



What'cha doing?

Reading my own blog.

Why?

Mind your own business, okay? It hasn't nearly been an hour.

I'm just curious, is all.

Fine. Well, the time I'm spending talking to you is time I could be spending reading my blog.

Well, then certainly spend more time talking to me. Seems like the better option of the two.

Leave me alone.



You know, I don't think I've ever taken anything as seriously in my life as Dena and her friends are taking their four-point math Bagrut.

I guess that doesn't say much about them. What is it that they're doing?

They spent all of yesterday studying, and then today they came again early on in the day and they're still studying. It's ridiculous.

Imagine how much you would have accomplished if you worked on your games like that.

Yeah.

This is why you need me.

I could use the blog.

But for some strange reason you're not. What, have you given up on the blog format?

No, no. I just don't want to be talking to a blog for my whole life.

Why not?

The progress report posts really, um, they really clog up the flow of the blog.

You sound like you're rationalizing. Here's my theory. You won't use the blog because you know you'd have to be productive.

I can be productive.

Suure.

No, I can.

Start working.

What? But it hasn't been an hour!

I said start working. No more argument.

Yes sir.



I hate you.

Why? You got a lot done.

This work makes me miserable. Nothing works the way it's supposed to.

I thought you liked suffering.

No, I do not like suffering.

Yes you do.

Listen to me. This work is the most annoying thing I've ever done. If it were anyone other than you forcing me to do it, I'd tell them to go to hell.

That's sweet.

I'm serious. Programming is a form of hell.

What's the problem?

I've made all these different tests. Each one seems to more or less make sense on its own, but they're all incompatible with each other on a fundamental level. Like, the way I'm thinking about one of them doesn't fit with the way I'm thinking of any of the others. And beyond that, this new test I'm doing to try to get it to look right only looks decent maybe a third of the time. Which means it's going to need to be even more complicated than it is in order to work, in ways that I don't even understand yet. It's just a total nightmare from start to finish.

Well, tough.

Excuse me?

Tough. You'll get through it, and then you'll thank me. So how long have you been working?

An hour and a half.

You're lying to me.

Okay, maybe an hour.

Okay. Yesterday you didn't do any work, so I guess this is progress. What would you like to do now?

Honestly? I'd like a good cry.

That's pathetic. It's just programming.

You have no idea.

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