Wired enough I took a bath
But my tub is too small and things float out of the drain
It’s not good for baths
But I really do like a good bath
Something about luxuriating in cleansing waters appeals to me
Which is weird because it’s kind of like sitting in your own dirt soup
That’s less appealing, but one must set some analogies to the wayside for the sake of survival
A leaf in computer science is an ending. It’s where you get the payoff, find what you were looking for, finally meet something concrete in the abstract jungle. Truth be told, leaves don’t usually matter so much individually. They’re needed, but as a part of a whole rather than a thing to themselves. Lose a leaf and the algorithm might still keep on ticking. People can be like that, the wheels of the world keep grinding on with or without you.
A branch in computer science is a choice. It is “this way or that?” It is the expansion of complexity or refinement of a search. It is essential. The branch is a lynchpin of an algorithm, a whole realm of content, a potential cascading nightmare of performance. However it manifests, a branch is something important, essential, terrible unto itself. A branch is undeniable. A branch is irreducible. People can be like that, glorious and beautiful and filled with unknown irreplaceable wonders, every last one possessed of their own essential uniqueness.
I felt the sand in between my toes and wondered if each grain was a universe stuck to me. I’m tired these days, too tired to keep on being the world to those who saw something in me once, something they thought they could own or exploit or co-opt to their own ends. That’s what it is to have promise, that’s what it is to have a future. A ready made pack of wolves sits waiting to pounce and devour you when ripe and it’s up to you to out smart or out run them. Pity those who think the world benevolent.
I feel the sea wash around my feet, salt and foam massaging tired digits and wiping away detritus and debris. How can I stand here and do nothing yet be purified with salt? Nature holds this at the ready, offering it to those who will come to meet her at the edge of the water. No trouble is so great it cannot fit on the sky over the horizon at the edge of the world. This is what it means to heal, to look out at the edge of the sea and let what was be washed away, to let the sea take all but that which is you. Pity those who think the world hopeless.
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