It turn the book over and over in my hands, having stopped reading on page 35 and just remembering the rest of the book as it unfolded.
The pages are yellowed and stained; the cover is soft and yields. It is not the crisp, bright paperback it once was when it lived in my knapsack and traveled around with me on the bus and in my trunk. I smells like a library now, not like calvin kleins ‘Eternity’ and its two partners are in no better shape when I pass them on the shelves. They look out at me as I move around the room and place this volume down on my desk.
In the early 90s a friend of a friend who had read these books once related them to us (the nerds that we were playing ‘Shadowrun’ in the private playpen,loft that head been built in the backyard of Andrews house) as an “adventure”. We weren’t the characters in the book; so when faced with the same choices and the same scenarios, we didn’t sublimate the authors intent. We couldn’t absorb the flow of it via osmosis, so we couldn’t follow the story of a mad artificial intelligence and the girl who could surf the net with her mind. We just wanted to kill bad guys and make money so our characters could be cooler and more wealthy than we could ever be. So we didn’t really meet Bobby or his Voodoo girlfriend. Slamhounds came, went and were disposed of.
So here I am; staring into the pages again, the first volume back on the shelf. Waiting for me to come around again once the Matrix becomes self aware and I can consign it all to memory again.
What the hell is going on here?
Published by NiteMayr on March 14, 2010What else can this guy do?
I make it a point not to whine here on the blog about work; it slips out on the twitter feed here and there; but it’s taking a real heavy load of intestinal fortitude to keep from going all LiveJournal over some static at work.
When I was at my last employer it seemed every day that I was under the gun of probable unemployment; that feeling may have been engendered by my first manager telling his entire team in no uncertain terms that our jobs were about as solid as tech stocks in 2000. This was 1997, we had just fired 23 people from my team (23 of the 25 that where hired along with me oddly enough)
I saw people get dismissed over and over, whole sections of the firm vanishing in the name of keeping the business trim. I suppose at the upper levels; this was the way to do it. After what six major layoffs (rifs) and so on I never shook the “I’m next” feeling. It pervades my work even now.
Why don’t others feel this way? Shouldn’t we feel this way? This, THIS is what I fear, losing the chance to get back in there and doing stuff that I can do. Not unemployment, losing the ability to make it all work. Today I was spending some of my Sunday working out how to deploy Puppet to improve system configuration management; this is after working out some rescue functions, which leads down a rabbit hole that I don’t want to follow…
[Image credit to Jamie Mckelvie, from Phonogram Singles Club]