The Distance

"The arena is empty, except for one man, still driving and striving as fast as he can" - Cake, The Distance

2018 was a year of self-doubt, indecision, and paralysis.

In my quest to deepen my understanding of JavaScript, Rust, and programming in general, I discovered and pursued languages, paradigms, and technologies that I found beautiful and expressive.

And almost wholly unused.

I was having a blast until I saw where I was going.

Absolutely nowhere.

I realized that syntax is easy, but ecosystems are hard. Knowing how to write basic programs in a language is one thing, but being productive in one is another. Libraries, build tools, package managers, etc., all play a role in being productive in an ecosystem, and it's extremely difficult to be productive when you're juggling bits and pieces of knowledge from 8 different ecosystems.

Ecosystems with small communities are even harder. The tools just aren't there. When you're learning on your own, struggling for guidance, good tools and resources can help you focus and nudge you in the write direction. There's nothing worse than chasing cryptic error messages on google trying to get something as simple as a linked-list to run.

And yet, what's the point if you aren't having fun? The odds are already stacked against you as a developer without a formal education, so if you're going to take the leap, shouldn't you enjoy it? Not to mention, isn't programming really about solving problems? And if that's the case, learning to debug cryptic errors and issues should help you in the long run right?

Of course, to get where you want to be, you need to put yourself in a position where you're ready to pounce should an opportunity present itself. You don't do that focusing on obscure languages and technologies.

Around and around I went. Torn between pushing myself to learn things that might propel me to where I want to be, and focusing on the parts of programming that really bring me joy - potentially dooming myself to irrelevance in the process.

"Fuel burning fast on an empty tank"

Then there's the blog. Most blogs have a focus. Whether it's chosen deliberately, or developed as a result of the writer's expertise or the environment the writer finds his/herself in on a daily basis. Mine appears to be neither. The most difficult problems I solve at work aren't something I would typically blog about, and I clearly haven't been deliberate in my direction of the blog. I've heard John Sonmez of Simple Programmer say your blog needs not only focus, but to fill a particular niche in the market to be successful. Mine doesn't even come close to that.

However, when I started the blog it wasn't about how many people read it. It was my escape into a world of wonder and excitement. A place where I could focus solely on things I enjoyed and leave the drudgery of my job in personal finance behind.

But then I got a job in software and my perspective changed. This was the real deal now. I had to take it "seriously". I wandered from blog post to blog post and forum to forum in search of that one "thing" that I could focus on and be happy with.

I never found it.

"Haunted by something he cannot define. Bowel  shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse, assail him, impale him, with monster truck force."

I decided to take a break and be "unproductive". I watched some Netflix, read some books, and played some video games. After a few weeks, I felt like I had accomplished more than I had in the previous few months, and I hadn't done anything other than leisure.

Then I had an epiphany. It's not about "success" in the way we normally think about it - money, fame, etc. It's about the adventure. That doesn't mean I stop trying to find my niche, it means finding it by exploring rather than by arbitrarily choosing something almost at random. Worrying about where I was going got me nowhere, and even worse, it was a monumental waste of time.

2019

The goal for 2019 - no goal at all, or maybe, a return to adventure. Instead of speeding into the distance in a race with no end, maybe it's better to stop and take the time to enjoy the scenery.