Moving home

I moved my blog today, it's got its own proper home and everything now.

http://domrout.co.uk

See? Magic.

If you read by RSS, the new URL is http://domrout.co.uk/?feed=rss2. With only a small amount of divine intervention, however, your reader should automatically update itself to point to the new blog.

Wise man

I've been called wise. People actually dare to do this to my face.

I'm offended because 'wise' is an implicitly sexless, indirect sort of word. It is an adjective applied to ancient men with beards and staffs that are at least a few decades too detached from reality to be much fun or much actual use. I'm young and naive and would be the first to admit or even boast about that fact.

I've never successfully dated anyone. I've never done drugs or dealt with illness. I've never struggled more than the normal with coursework or had to face an ex girlfriend with a new boyfriend. I've seen more sadness and more violence than someone my age should have seen, but this hardly qualifies me to give sensible romantic advice.

I'm not wise. I'm honest, I listen to people's anecdotes and I try something many young men ignore - empathy. I'm brazen sometimes. I knowingly torture myself about things without sharing, and I won't allow that behaviour in other people. Sometimes I'll say things like "You're not strong enough to do this!" - bullshitting like a character in a cheesy American drama. It never fails to impress.

I can lie impressively, too. With a big enough store of anecdotes and friend's anecdotes you can find an example to support any chosen personal viewpoint. Two decades on this planet will give you a million different ways to say "It'll be alright - I promise".

Maybe I'm an addict. It feels good to be able to calm a friend, or get them to open up where they would normally keep quite. Some people hate to be probed like that but with those that don't mind it feels like forming actual, lasting friendships. I just hope people remember that no wise man of any sort could tell them anything they don't already know. Believe me, you are the best person in the world at being you.

Programming puzzles

I hate puzzles.

Crosswords make me feel stupid. I want to die when I look at a chessboard. I had a Rubik's cube once - until it sailed elegantly out of the window to be dashed against the concrete outside. I'm just not a fan of that mental challenge. I can't imagine anything less creative or fun than a three or four hour Sudoku session. Nonetheless, there is one sort of puzzle to which I'm utterly addicted.

It's programming, which is sort of lucky, given my choice of degree. Well, not exactly lucky. I wouldn't have chosen CompSci if I didn't like programming - I'd have ended up being one of the cool kids doing English or something. I love the challenge. It's different in some way, probably in the vital detail that I'm good at it.

I can't stop myself. Today it's made me act like a bit of a dick. I quickly came up with a solution to a coursemate's programming problem without being asked and without being allowed to share it, just because the 'puzzle' looked fun. It's a compulsion - a mental deficiency.

There are a lot of people in the world to whom this must seem totally alien. I'm thinking of that class of human beings that find computer use a chore or a means to an end; a method to get to iTunes or The Sims and not a pleasurable experience in itself. They're missing out on what I do in the same way that I'm missing out on rock climbing and contact sports.

I'm not doing very well at explaining. A lecturer the other day described programming as an intensely creative process. I scoffed at him, but he's probably right. You adopt this little bug or this individual method or this bit of processing and suddenly you're Dr Frankenstein tinkering with your own little monster. I've actually shouted "It's ALIVE!" in the past. Finishing a module or getting positive feedback from a client is exactly like winning a gold medal at the Olympics. Except involving more sitting down.

Common Cold

It's sunny today.

The city is gloriously illuminated. The trees seem more alive, the busses gleam in the sun and the people seem happy and animated. It's one of those unexpectedly gorgeous days that come at the very end of summer and redeem the horrific periods of cold and rain that always seem premature.

Of course, I've completely failed to enjoy any of it. This is because I am full of cold. I'm witnessing the world through what feels like a three inch thick layer of figurative cotton wool. Everything seems distant. My glasses are heavy and thick. My shirt feels too warm and the people are too metaphorically distant to have a proper conversation with them. Having a conversation hurts anyway, because my voice is still bad.

I'd forgotten how often I get ill at university. I'm not sure whether to blame the crowded and unhygienic lecture theatres, the bad food or the near constant drinking, but even the mildest bout of illness seems to last for weeks on end.

It really is getting on my nerves. Even small tasks like laundry or a conversation seem like heroic efforts. It's hard to relax at gigs because I'm too tired to make proper jokes. I can't program because I'll just introduce bugs.

I will stop moaning now and continue with life as normal. Maybe some heavy lifting will make me feel better.

Ryan-fucking-bibby

I've been parodied! IT IS AN OUTRAGE. How DARE someone take my insecure ramblings and make funny from them in a harsh yet obscenely true way.

I will never forgive them. Well, I might. Here's the link y'all.

I should stick with being a geek. Programming sessions are much more therapeutic than drinking sessions, and you don't say things you regret the following morning.

Back to School

Today I am dressed in my uniform, having packed my pencil case and lunch box and ensured a Tie-Stripe-Measure > 3. It's my first day back at university.

By this I mean, I have my first lecture of third year today. Literally, one lecture. I then have to bug the lecturer about my dissertation, but I'm going to pretend not to worry about that for now.

Wish me luck.