1927: I couldn't let the day end without acknowledging my late grandfather's birthday. Lucky me, I got to learn from him, absorbing the skills of those who work with their hands. He had this passion, this patient way of fixing problems by piecing things together, and he made a routine of it. I took that lesson to heart, applying it to everything in life, even though time seems to stretch and warp since I came back from the hospital. Despite that, I'm honored to have been called his grandson and to have inherited the gifts and talents of my family. I'll deliver somehow, even if it's late. I'm honing the agility of my mind, balancing checks and measures to ensure the end result is something I'll be proud of. And I wanted to let you know I'm still proud of you. Good night, but not goodbye.
0527: Disregard the last post. I was challenged to post something 100% positive instead of the usual iceberg posts. So here goes. I was offered the verified organization gold check mark, but it's subscription-based this time. Not sure if my editors are up for it, since you need to meet some criteria to get it for free. Anyway, my memories feel like broken bridges, and I'm a man with tools, slowly repairing them. The more complex the memory, the more complex the bridge. I often see my kid at different stages of her life, but those memories are starting to fade. Connections reestablish themselves the more you encourage them to rebuild. Revisiting the past feels like walking through a worn-down ghost town, with patches in the walls representing callouses holding up weak spots in the foundation. After everything that's happened, I don't think it was meant to be permanent. I relied on persistence that lost its strength through repetitive storms and trials. As repetition builds callouses, it also chips away. In these moments, you take what you can and keep moving forward. I won't forget I had a daughter who wasn't biologically mine, the one I helped raise to adulthood. And I won't forget that I'm still someone to somebody: a son, brother, uncle, nephew, friend, etc. This pilgrimage continues, and you can count on me to keep moving forward. Thank you for being by my side.
0327: I was always careful with what I knew, making sure it didn't bleed into my work too much. Automation is incredible, but once you remove the human element from repetitive tasks, you're betting everything on the precision of those initial steps. It has to be perfect, not cookie-cutter, which is why I wrote most of my code from scratch, just like my kid Marina. The laziest people can be the most efficient, drawing from what's known and implementing it seamlessly. Marina and I, though, we looked for ways to optimize and tailored the code specifically for each client, even though she didn't help with my work; we were both in the same classes. In software development, they call this tailoring to your customer, and it became our priority. When I left my job in Florida, my supervisor asked for a list of my responsibilities. It was long; I had a hand in every project, in every branch of service we supported. My military counterparts often joked, "just think of him, and he'll show up." Over the years, they mostly saw the top half of my face, working at ten places at once, automating tasks that fixed network issues in the background. Clients often found problems resolved themselves, leading to remarks like, "of course it works when you’re here." As I handed over my responsibilities, my boss started to contract out the automated tasks. I was often the early bird and the night owl, always there for the client. When I transitioned to another branch, they said I'd be "stripped of my wings," relying on industry partners. My kid called it that too. Offers from industry rolled in, but I'm still grounded by a profile that keeps me here, which I don't mind. My military counterparts want this to be my best assignment, and I would have agreed if not for my kid's absence. My hospitalization and prolonged medication have left me complacent. Though my drive to help others remains, there's a disconnect I hope to heal. I’m the fittest and most spiritual I've ever been, but now I need to focus on my mind. I always believed I was only as strong as the people around me. I may not be able to automate everything, but I can speak the language of those who can. If we look past sales pitches and new features to focus on support, we can unlock future successes.
0119: I’ve been feeling strange this week. I wake every hour or so, feeling like I’m in a larger bed, waking from a dream inside a dream. It’s a feeling I haven’t had in a long time but remember well. Maybe it’s because my place is warmer than it should be. There’s a hydroponics lab in the living room and a screen by my bed scrolling code from an open-source platform my kid and I worked on. I glimpse it every time I enter a room, trying to remember how to remember, techniques I practiced daily to strengthen my skills. I prioritized my memory. When I came back from the hospital the first time, I knew my mind was different, but I wasn’t alone. Whenever I was lost, something brought me back. Sometimes I’d hear my grandfather’s voice, sometimes my ex’s, and sometimes Marina’s at different stages of her life. I still get care packages, but the recent ones have letters with my kid’s name. A colleague thinks they’re from the kid’s mother, but it doesn’t seem like it. They’re no longer in contact with me, and I don’t know their whereabouts. My school account is deleted, and the associated YouTube channel has the numbers 5569 appended. My dreams are increasing in frequency. This morning, I saw an old man in my computer chair, talking to me while I slept. In formal class, I’d jest I could remember everything even if I fell asleep. It’s how I studied for tests. This morning I dreamt of a young woman singing in the master bathroom. Before I woke up, she said, “Hey dad, I…” I woke up with a nosebleed, something I haven’t had in years. It’s not a concern. I’m writing these thoughts down, seeking feedback on what they mean.
