Dissecting Success

So, things went well today. Really well. I'd been stuck on a seemingly simple task for a while now, and I fixed it. You don't want to know how.

There was an easy way to do this project, and there was a hard way. I took the easy route at first, because it was more important to me that the project be successful than efficient. Now that I'm past the initial stage of the solution, where the "blank page" stares at the programmer with scorn, the hard version has become much more appealing. For reasons I won't go into, it is better now to have an elegant, streamlined code than one that is simply functional. Like a fine Italian, um, anything, my project has become a well-oiled, aesthetically pleasing machine.

Pretty... nay, Beautiful
Even running smoothly, this program is enough of a beast to chew up a lot of processing time. Every time I tweak a parameter, it takes about 5 minutes to simulate 30 seconds' worth of experimentation. Needless to say, this leaves me with plenty of time for useless contemplating.

I had a conversation recently with a particularly artistic friend of mine. It is clear that our minds operate differently, whether by training or by breeding (cue the "nature vs nurture" debate in the comments section... I'm looking at you, my "theory of mind" expert friend). While I will never be able to see through the eyes of an artist (or even someone with healthy color vision), I can at least analyze my own thought processes.

Well, at least you'd think I could. It seems I don't have the vocabulary, or the self-awareness, to describe whatever it is that's happening. It'd be nice to tell you that I somehow "see" the logic, that everything arranges itself in my mind's eye like some sort of multi-dimensional abstract puzzle. That I'm some sort of savant.

Alas. At best, I was so lost in my own code that I was barely aware of the people around me, let alone of what was going on in my head - it was an odd state of semi-conscious rush. Most of the time, though, I fought. It was a tooth-and-nail, no-holds-barred fight, and I trash-talked, cursed, and bullied until the damn thing worked. I basically threw a quiet tantrum.

I sort of wish that the process was as elegant as the result, that I was some tranquil renaissance man rather than a thrashing toddler with an aptitude for simulations. It doesn't really matter, since the end product is totally sweet. The lesson, I suppose, is to stay away from me when I'm at work, because that's where Mr. Hyde lives.