Spaceship Earth

More info about The Blue Marble photo here.  Isn't it just great that most NASA images are not copyrighted!

More info about Carl Sagan here.

Here We Go Again

Monday.

It's warm again, even warmer than it was before the fall.  Some of the trees around here are actually in bloom... and I finally have all the time I need on my disposal to only do the things I want, baby related stuff and writing.  I quit all of my jobs, got myself a new pair of walking shoes with the savings, and now I count the days to our move, ready to embark on yet another adventure.  It will be great - we'll have more space, more privacy, more light. 

I am listening to Srkrillex, watching The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, and reading On Writing by Steve King (again).

Your Daily Shelby: Weird Cat is Weird.

My cat is really an anteater.

Also, she likes to be uncomfortable.

The latest weirdness: she licks her butt and then she sneezes.  I won't post a photo of that, though.

Enjoy Shelby life!

Temptations...

Found these babies in a drawer at my in-laws recently and I have to put a lot of effort into restraining myself not to go out and shoot them.  My only consolation is that only in less than 3 months John V will be born and I can go crazy with photography again.  And till then I'll have to be content with merely taking Instagrams of Shelby (see next post).

iFish pt. 2

They say I must now eat "brain food" for Little Johnny, so I got this Halibut fish and cooked it breaded with a topping of mayo, sour cream, and green onions.

Yum!

Part 1.

Felicidades!

Yesterday was my friend Dani's birthday.  Her boyfriend, Jose, secretly contacted me a week before and asked me if I could take some portraits of Dani as a surprise present from him to her, and I agreed instantly, even though I am temporarily retired from freelancing.  It was a pretty fun and casual afternoon birthday party, and the orange trees around the house provided an excellent background with their citrus bokeh.  I even made some of my pink punk cupcakes for the occasion.  

I haven't even submitted these to Dani and Jose yet, but I just can't wait to post them.  I am loving the flare and the jump series!

P.S. I will miss Steve and Pavlova, Dani and Jose's dog and cat - I am no longer Steve's walker... But there's always a silver lining: the less we see each other for business, the more we'll see each other for fun events like these.   

The Games We Play

There are a few things worth mentioning about John's match this Sunday:

1.  He looks incredibly sexy, running around with his long hair.  It's reminiscent of the 70's football stars, and I just love the expression of intense concentration on his face.

2.  John also looks incredibly funny in some of those photos, again thanks to his hair and intense concentration.

3.  Football is a pretty game to watch.  They all look like they are dancing, even the older players with the potbellies.

4.  Seagulls are nasty creatures, who would steal your food, swim in your pool, and poop on your white top with no remorse whatsoever.  Therefore, I suggest we ban them from the football fields.

5.  Owning a 300mm lens makes watching a football match much easier.

6.  It is called football.  Because, you know, it's being played with your feet, and with an actual round ball.  And because the rest of the world is calling it that.  And because you don't need an armor to play it, but skill.

This weekend I was battling the fatigue accumulated throughout the past week, but I make a point of getting up early on Sunday to see the game.  I had more fun than I expected; the morning light was beautiful, and the guys on John's team were quite nice.  Since America is not capable of comprehending football (which is evident from their insistence to call it soccer), hate is the most immediate and primal reaction to this sport, and it was great to find myself among an exclusive group of people who actually love it.  I also discovered that just like in England, the players here too yell "TIME!", "DEFENSE!" and other things that I don't quite remember.  The highlights of the game were, to me at least, John's final minute attack of the goal, and his general awesomeness on the field.  Afterwards, I introduced myself to the Bulgarian on his team, Nick (probably Nikolay), whose jaw literally dropped when John spoke to him in clear Bulgarian.  The result: 2:2.

Some News

Before I begin, I want to make plain that while this blog does not endorse the use of photographs showing people with a double chin, sometimes it is necessary to slightly overlook this in order to notice the wonderful sun flare that is also in the picture.

I took this on my way back from the hair salon yesterday afternoon, and it shows two essential things: one - the warm weather is back and I am giving up any hope for  a real winter this year; and two - there are good hair dressers left in the world, and they are not all the greedy evil hair-chopping monsters who are out to get you that I thought they were.  After over 7 months of dreading any intervention in my head area, I finally decided to throw some money at it and to get it over with.  After the baby comes I won't have much time to pamper myself, as for another 7 months ahead I will be pampering the baby, literally.  I still need to get my color evened out (a huge gray patch had settled in my bangs and my natural hair color is much lighter than the leftovers of dye on the edges), but I got the greatest ever shampoo, massage, and cut by a gay guy called Bob, and I can now easily wear my hair loose and just FORGET ABOUT IT.

The news I came here to share doesn't have anything to do with my hair, thank goodness.  It's the end of January (already!), and looks like I only managed to put down a couple of pages of my book, and this is obviously not working.  I am too swamped with domestic chores, baby preparations, the move, bureaucracy, and what not, and it occurred to me that if I keep being so damn busy, I will simply never get any writing done.  Therefore I made a decision to discontinue walking dogs and babysitting for the time being.  It's just that my real work is more important to me than the work for money at this moment.  Luckily, I can afford it, so from next week on I am all on my own to plan when exactly to write, and when to do the rest.  Cutting down on photography apparently wasn't quite enough, and here we are...

Besides, I am getting so big and slow that it doesn't seem realistic that I would have been able to keep it up for much longer.  It was a matter of when, not if.  

Gosh, I sometimes wish that everything just disappears.  Poof!  Gone.  Sometimes all I want is to not think of anything or anyone, and just write.

Your Daily Shelby: Not a Kitteh, But a Work of Art!

Please notice how cleverly she camouflages herself behind the blinds.  If she can't see you, than you certainly don't see the furry belly emanating from under there, either.  And when the world becomes too much, Shelby just rolls over and covers her eyes tightly.  I wish I could hug myself the way she hugs herself.

And yes, this is a bath rug she's on.  It's called Pink Fing, and she Lubs it.  

I am terribly worried about the effect our upcoming move will have on Shelby, but I am sure that once she settles in, she'll love the bigger apartment.  So much new space to explore, and so many new spots to sleep in!

9 days left, and counting...

 

A Story About Husbands, Dogs, and Other Relatives, In Which a Rainstorm Hits the Mountain.

This was our last trip to Tassajara for the time being.  I am becoming too big to be comfortable during the 2 and-a-half-hour drive there and back, and besides, we're getting swamped with chores, including the upcoming move (which I'm actively dreading, by the way).  John "worked from home" on Friday - an opportunity we took to avoid the weekend traffic, and it looked like winter had finally arrived in these parts at the end of January.  The sky was low and hostile, the wind gusts shook us at the flat parts of the road, we got heavily splashed at the turns, and the freeway looked like one of those water theme parks, only for cars.  

We made good time and pulled in my in-laws' driveway in the early afternoon.  John Senior immediately undertook the task to fill us up with food, and the Chinese New Year festivities commenced quite appropriately 3 days in advance with a dish of sticky rice and cinnamon pork.  It went downhill from there.  By dinner time we had had about 3 or 4 meals: pecan pie (made by John Sr. himself), brie cheese, salami, and crackers, green salad, berries and citrus, and finally, cream puffs we made from scratch when Muoi came home from work.  

I went to bed a little reluctantly; I am not as good in conking out the moment I smell the pillow as John is, plus I didn't have my maternity monster of a pillow.  The great thing about a house in the mountain is that when you turn the light off, you are suddenly engulfed in complete and utter darkness.  There's no light pollution, there are no street lights, flashing ad screens, no head or stop lights, nothing.  You can place your hand directly in front of your nose and still fail to see it.  That's a wonderful kind of darkness that brings a steady, long, and deep sleep to people.  So I tried to embrace it and to relax...when I realized that the lack of light was not at all the problem.  It was the noise.

The weather outside was progressing from stormy to tempestuous.  A lot of the trees there are evergreen, and the madrones rustled madly under the strength of the winds.  They also served as a natural windbreaker so that it seemed the air just stopped before it hit the house, and somehow when around it without making it tremble or drenching the windows.  The sense of being in a magically protected house excited me and in a confused way I made a mental note to ask John Sr. how exactly he had built it, but excitement it the opposite of being at ease, and sleep kept eluding me.

Things turned even more dramatic when everyone else in the room fell fast asleep - namely John, pleasantly snoring, and Tessie the big black dog, who made oddly loud wet sounds in the dark as she licked herself on the floor.  Tessie carries the nickname Sloppy for a reason.  She, just like my Shelby, is a compulsive licker.  Then, an invisible  draft appeared, and the door began thumping in its frame.  Lick-lick-snore-THUMP!  I decided that I need to pee.  That rendered me wide awake, but after I returned from my trip to the bathroom, a new surprise awaited.  

Heartburn! One of the many joys of pregnancy.  Its best friend, back pain, didn't waste time either, and settled in my left side for good.  No amount of pillows, tossing, turning, or breathing exercises helped, and I was getting agitated.  And to complete the ludicrousness of the picture, a faint smell of a skunk (!) began emanating from where Tessie was lying.  That pretty much broke the camel's back.  Anger is not the typical reaction to discomfort, but I get really pissed off when I am in pain, I get the urge to punch someone and yell at them.

John was closest to me (I wouldn't for the world yell at or punch Tessie, skunk or no skunk) and I woke him up.  He was punished for sleeping while I was restless, by having to tell me a really long and boring story and put me to sleep.  I think that is exactly what husbands are made for, and maybe also for foot massages.

John turned the light on, gave me water and a Tum, and went on to explain to me how do computers work.  Believe me, it's just the right goodnight story.  I dozed off at the point where the miniature things on the silicon chip were described to change their state under the influence of electricity in order to translate into ones and zeroes.  I slept till 4am, when I rearranged the army of pillows around me, and continued to sleep till the civilized breakfast hour of 8 am.  I suspect that in the end of all things I gave in out of desperation rather than exhaustion.

The morning greeted me with pancakes, filo dough pastries, and the leftovers from last night's cream puffs.  It was a carbs galore, lavishly poured with John Senor's stories, mixed with the political news on the TV.  For the rest of the day I learned a great deal about the American election system, the Republican party (not that I wanted to know but the primaries for their candidate were happening in South Carolina), the Mormon church, and about wine making.  It was a good day, all things considered.  John Senior took us first to the basement, where he showed us the 100 year-old basinett  he had restored for Baby John, and then he took us to the attic, where he showed us two awesome lamps he had savaged for our new apartment.  And after some more munching (meatballs in tomato sauce and spinach ravioli) we headed home among the clutter of things and food in our car.  The storm was done and over with, but it had gotten even colder.  I hope it snows there soon!

Home and Family.  They mean feeling warm and safe, and I mean literally.  They mean feeling not always comfortable but always content.  They mean a full belly and a full heart.  They mean swapping jokes and poking fun with the same ease as talking the serious things through.  They mean doing things for others just because, and letting others do things for you.  Home and Family - my favorite things.  

P.S. And cream puffs too!

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

As many of you may know, I am a quarter Chinese - by marriage.  My mom-in-law Muoi got these tangerines for my husband John and I thought they illustrate the upcoming Chinese New Year quite well, along with the red and gold greeting card someone had sent to my in-laws.  I am excited; this will be the year of the Dragon:

"The Dragon is a beautiful creature, colorful and flamboyant. An extroverted bundle of energy, gifted and utterly irrepressible, everything Dragons do is on a grand scale - big ideas, ornate gestures, extreme ambitions. However, this behavior is natural and isn't meant for show. Because they are confident, fearless in the face of challenge, they are almost inevitably successful."

恭喜发财

Tassajara on Film

I shot my first roll of Kodak Portra 400 over Christmas up in the mountain at my in-laws' place.  I did it with my mom-in-law's analog Nikon and her 85mm lens - both of which I was trying out for the first time.  The objects you see I've photographed before; there're John Sr.'s doggies Sadie and Tessie (aka Silly and Sloppy), there's Muoi's kitchen counter, there's the gazebo and, of course, the forest.  Their familiarity, alas, didn't do much for my performance....

It appears that I did well focusing.  And not much else.  The exposure is all wrong, the colors have a weirdly green and purple hue (a defect of the developing?), and I feel like I compose my shots exactly the same way over and over again.  All things consider, however, I love film so without further delay I give you my Tassajara Retreat:

Oppose SOPA and PIPA!!!

Do we even need to discuss this?!

Okay, if you insists: 

There's a huge difference between fighting online piracy and censorship/control.

People have the right to have a free access to information because that empowers them and enables them to make educated choices, which has the potential to improve their lives, and ultimately, to make the world a better place.

Show that you give a damn, use your voices!

Contact your representatives, I just did:

Sen. Barbara Boxer [D, CA]
Phone: 202-224-3553

Sen. Dianne Feinstein [D, CA]
Phone: 202-224-3841

Rep. Anna Eshoo [D, CA-14]
Phone: 202-225-8104

Also, sign the petition to the Congress:

https://www.google.com/landing/takeaction/

Welcome to Boom Town

I have to pinch myself from time to time, and remind myself that I am in fact living in America.  For an Easter European that might as well be equal to living in Space, especially if said Eastern European hasn't ever traveled outside of her country until she was 25 years old.  The effects of the initial cultural shock are already wearing out, and I wasn't entirely unprepared for a life in the West to begin with after three and a half years in London, but still I sometimes happen to kind of snap out of whatever I was thinking about while riding on the freeway, and as I straighten in my seat a little, I open my eyes wide and I tell myself: This is it, I am really here.

A few things say "America" as strongly as the sight of a busy freeway. Unfortunately.

Being here, in this specific part of Northern California, right at this very moment, is an experience in its own league altogether.  I remember what my Dad told me before John and I moved from across the Pond: "Just like America is ahead of the rest of the world, California is ahead of the rest of America".  My father has never been to the U.S. but he reads a train-wagonfull of books every year (and, for a 56 year-old Bulgarian man, puts the Internet into a very good use), and he's correct.  

The San Francisco Bay Area and the Silicon Valley are now happening, and happening tremendously.  And we, John and I, together with the rest of the Palo Alto - Mountain View - Cupertino, etc. residents, are in the Second Bubble.  Straight into the middle of it.  We are riding the wave, we are witnessing the making of the Tech History first hand.  It's exhilarating...or at least it is for all of the young professionals who populate the area, for the software geeks who flock from distant countries in search of the golden fleece, for our friends in Google, and even for John, who works in an up-and-coming cloud storage startup company.

For me, not so much.

This is a story about what it is to find yourself in the right place at the right time, only to discover that it is actually right for everyone else but you.  I am realizing as I type that this is pretty much also the story of my life.  It's hilarious, really.  Oh, I can't complain by any means; I am happy here.  It is home - I made it my home, and I am aware that it is times better than if Fate had decided to take me to, say, Zimbabwe or Arkensaw.  It's just that I sometimes feel I am closer by mindset to the Hispanic gardeners than to the suburban housewifes they fork for in the million-dollar homes of Old Mountain View.  

As we speak, at least half a dozen new condo developments are being erected around town.  The increased demand for fresh workforce requires more space, more homes, more parking lots, more restaurants, more strip malls.  It's a Boom Town that grows by the hour...yet I don't see more public parks, more street art, more museums.  The evolution of Mountain View is solely dictated by needs of the Google Droids, the Apple Fanboys, the Facebook Clan, and the likes.  You see, here technology is king and the needs of the business rules, not some organic local culture.  Indeed, the lack of sophisticated or at least genuine culture is what bothers me the most.

Mountain View is about a 100 years old; at first an agricultural settlement surrounded by orchards, then an engineering town, and now it's a suburban software center - that, amazingly, still remains as provincial as always.

There's nothing much to see here.  A main street, Castro, where all the restaurants and cafes are, a train station, the Computer History Museum, the Library...and that's pretty much it.  The rest is Target, the expressways and the boulevards, the aforementioned million dollar homes, and of course, hundreds of tech company offices.  This Sunday I noticed that even the Lytro camera people have settled in MV, just around the corner from where I live.

This does miracles for the economy of the area (and for the prices too, which are times higher than in the rest of the country) but what is it doing for its cultural climate? I'll tell you.  Not much.  You walk around at lunchtime and you see all those geeks in preppy clothes crowding the Chinese Food joints, and you hear them talking about the new app they're working on at the moment.  You see their wives driving Infinity cars on the way to pick up their kids from $2000 a month daycare centers.  You meet virtually no homeless people, a few sulking teenagers with skateboards, lots of content and neat looking retired men and women walking their dogs, lots of Indian and Asian immigrants pushing their way at the Farmer's Market.  Because aside of the undergoing technology revolution, Mountain View is overall a slow, safe, clean and boring place to live.

I might sound ungrateful to you, but I tend to criticize the Silicon Valley constructively too.  I asked what John thinks about the whole Second Bubble Phenomenon, and he - despite of having an active part in it - was rather ruthless.

The Silicon Valley is a chess club on steroids, he said.  The people here and inherent intellectuals, but their elitist attitude that doesn't seem to help fill up the place.  It feels empty because they are only measuring one thing: their own success.

John is supposed to fit right in.  He's partly of Asian descent, works in the tech industry, and has an university degree.  But!  He still has too much in Europe in him (a year in France, 3 years in Bulgaria, 3 and a half years in London - thus also luckily bypassing the 8 years of Bush administration), dislikes the local driving culture intensely (cars vs. public transport), and happens to like all the wrong sport (also wrongly called "soccer").

What really doesn't harmonize with John, however, appears to be the selfish drive of today's technology world.  The Silicon Valley practically screams "Me!  I am number one!" and not the whole, not the country.  The local success remains local.  Meanwhile, the new minorities displace the old ones - Israeli, Russian, Chinese, Indian.  Of course,   the old minorities are still here; they are just made invisible.  When I walk dogs at noon, while the tech people are having power lunches and company meetings, I meet them - the old minorities.  They speak Spanish and they fix the streets and build condos, they are maids and gardeners and delivery boys.  They smile and say Ola, and I smile back, because I know - stereotypes are not complete, but they are also not necessarily untrue.  I come from a country where only the Gypsy people collect the garbage and dig trenches next to the roads.  Apparently, even 10 000 km away, in the midst of a historical civilizational leap, nothing is going to be much different.  The marginalized stay marginalized, and the world keeps turning.

How does the Silicon Valley achieve that?  Why hasn't it transcended the stereotype yet?  John explains: tech giants and startups alike, under false pretenses, hire foreigners straight out of college with masters from a diploma factory, and pay them less, even just a bit less, only so that they can bring fresh workers in 2-3 years observing the same model, instead of bothering to promote from within.  Such use of professionals is bad because it's not sustainable; the work is available, the need is there, but not the quality.  

However, there's the profit.  A CEO might make the whopping $500 000 per year, and the workers - only $80 000, instead of, say, a $100 K.  Saving money that way is petty, and reeks of exploitation.  I guess that in the age of Occupy Wall Street this isn't much of a news, reporting that corporations are once again taking over.  But I still find it sad.  Wasn't this technology revolution supposed to be all about "Don't be evil."?!

John continues: It's a kind of a myth that you can compete with Intel, Oracle, Google, etc.  It is possible to grow and make money, but you can't reach them anymore.  Between the patents and the capital, you'll be crushed.  And really, what kind of ideal is "Don't be evil", but moderate, conservative even.  The Uber Geeks that make up this place have no real culture, even lives.  Everything they do and are interested in is virtual, and they are compulsively obsessed with gadgets, almost to the state of a fetish.  And this isn't evil, but is in no way is saving the world either.  They idoloze the Titans of Technology like Steve Jobs and Mark Suckerburg (I am particularly proud of coming up with this one!), but overlook everyone else.  

Thus, organic culture fails to arise.  The foreigners differ and cannot create communities.  Individualism rules.  And I keep being bored out of my mind.

Surely, I can easily ignore the entire situation.  I don't live by what Mozilla does, or by what LinkedIn says, thank you very much.  I view technology as a tool, not as the purpose, so I simply use it and go on with my life.  It's irritating to realize that putting a bunch of super smart people together will not automatically create a Paradise and admittedly, trying to find the next big thing in rock or in fine art in these parts seems like a futile exercise, but at least I can use the safe, clean, and boring environment to be left alone and uninfluenced to my own creative process.  Thankfully, writing benefits from provincialism better than other arts.  

So, as long as I don't turn into a consuming suburban housewife (which is highly unlikely) or into a greedy Senior Software Architect with no soul (which is even more highly unlikely), I'll be fine here.  Besides, there's always Monterey Bay, or San Francisco, or Bulgaria to escape to when things get too tardy.  

And the question who's going to save the world, I am afraid, remains unanswered.

P.S.  Many longs months ago I was sitting on the stairs here at home and smoking a cigarette, when a guy came out of his apartment, pushing a giant, no - humongous ball.  It looked like insanely overstuffed bead chair.  He huffed and puffed and tried to take it down the stairs, so I offered to help.  The guy, long ponytail and glasses, disconnected look on his face and slightly retarded smile, accepted my offer and we both carried this abomination to his car.  The car was a two door 90's Toyota, and most of it was already full with other junk.  In the next 3 minutes I was involuntary witness of the Guy trying to fit the bead ball in to the small free space that was left in his car.  It was an unsettling sight, and I will never forget the feeling of inadequacy that washed over me.  This guys is crazy, if there was ever a crazy guy out there, I thought.

Soon after that incident, I was taking my recycling out and I met the guy again.  He hopped down the stairs and when he turned his back towards me, I noticed that a long furry tail was hanging down his pants.  I asked him about it, and he proudly explained that he had made it himself, and that it's his hobby.  He petted the tail as he spoke.  I asked what does  he do for living.

"I am a software engineer," he replied.

***

I can tell you who's not going to save the world - software engineers.  (Sorry, honey).  

I Like Big Bumps And I Cannot Lie

I woke up this morning feeling a strong urge to take a baby bump selfie.  I think I didn't even take the trouble of combing my hair.  There won't be a pregnancy report today; I'll wait till February 2nd, when is my next doctor's appointment to share some Johnny news.  I will be in my final trimester then, and judging by the rate I am growing - much bigger.

I must write now, then walk Steve the dog and pick up some prints from the photo studio (I haven't been cheating - I refer to a roll of film I shot over Christmas with my mom-in-law's Nikon and her 85mm lens!), and then write some more, but here're a few outtakes till I am back.  As I joked earlier, my transformation to a beluga whale is now complete.  Next level: a Great Blue.

London Chronicles: Ally

I've been working on an article about my life in the Silicon Valley since Friday but I am temporarily stuck on the thematic pattering, so I was digging through my blog folder in an attempt to distract myself a bit with the hope that the right imagery will come to me by itself in the meanwhile, and there I found a few photos taken by my Dad during his second visit in London in 2010.  My dearest Punkin Ally was there too and we, as usual, were stuck to each other as we explored the city.

Looking at these is as distracting as it gets.  Now can I have my article finished, please?  Hello, universe?

P.S. I really punched this guy good.  Boy, do I hate street artists :D

Fishes, Fireflies, and Techno

Today in Other People's Art:

I found this photo of fireflies in a forest somewhere on the Internet and it transported me straight to childhood.  We used to have so many fireflies in Lovech that during the summer vacation evenings the air turned glittery and magical.

Secondly, we have a documentary film about the future of electronic music.  As a former (amateur) DJ I can't help but be excited!

Good news on the musical front - I actually managed to find a performer among the top 100 Rolling Stone Magazine list I that I like, and who makes genuine music for the sake of it, not for money or fame.

And lastly, here's an artist who paints 3Db goldfish and is damn good in it:

Speed is not the same as Velocity.

All writers are traitors.  

We would betray our friends and family for a good story, and we won't even feel the need to apologize for it.  We don't have to.  It's our job.  Also, we love to intimidate and embarrass people just for the sheer fun of it, so beware what you share and how you act while I am around because I am watching you and I am taking notes.

My dear Aunt Layla asked me the other day: "But John doesn't want to be a programmer for the rest of his life, does he?!"  I found the question strange because I don't really see why not, but moreover, why not?  It's like asking me if I am sure I want to be a writer for the rest of my life.  Duh!

My Aunt had her arguments.  She thought that being a programmer wears you out and that you can't do it for too long before you run dry.  I saw how ridiculous such idea is and I told her so, but for some reason I couldn't really affect her to change her mind.  Apparently, simply stating that ageism is a silly misconception isn't as clear and obvious as I thought it should be.  Believe it or not, I am not as eloquent and convincing when I speak as I am when I write.  Therefore, I asked John - the programmer in question - to explain the whole thing better.  

"What I've learned in a year at a hot startup in Silicon Valley (aka the Mecca of Innovation):

Younger doesn't always mean better.  The young programmers we have are very energetic and spend a lot of time coding something without fundamentally thinking through the solution (much like starting a long math problem before you realize you should use a calculator).  Programming is really just "problem solving" and experience goes a long way to understanding what is the right problem to solve and the right tools to use. 

Creativity/Imagination are important for cutting edge work - which unfortunately not many programmers actually do, and is a unique talent per individual irrespective of age.  Most "development" work (if you're not re-inventing the wheel again) is re-using existing known solutions/techniques to solve a problem (usually a problem lots of other people have, otherwise it's not a very profitable business).

Musicians who love music are never exhausted; some writers have new ideas in every novel for their whole lives, some authors never have an original idea.

Energy/effort does not equal success.  Like Football, it's about the goals you score, not the kilometers you run or the number of times you've missed the goal.  Timing/Luck is important, and so is persistence (the old adage: Opportunities are easier to take advantage of when you're ready).  Unfortunately we've spent a lot of energy/effort doing things that had to be redone multiple times and we aren't successful yet.

Speed is not the same as Velocity.  Going fast in the wrong direction or changing directions multiple times has meant we haven't made the progress required to be as successful as we could be.  There's a difference between corrections in direction (in bizspeak "pivoting") and thrashing (computer term for getting stuck unable to complete anything while multi tasking).

Sales is much easier when you: 1. have a product  2. the product works  3. people recommend the product to each other because it works so well.  Once again: age, sex, religion, etc. aren't involved.

Being ready for becoming fabulously rich and famous is the wrong preparation.  Being ready to work your ass off to see your product increment from stable to stable means you ought to love what you do because, if you're lucky, you'll be doing it for a long time.

Ideas are everywhere and can't be owned.  So it's all about execution."

That, of course, doesn't necessarily mean that John indeed wants to be a programmer for the rest of his life.  We just want to make clear that we're keeping our options open.  He might decide to become a professional cat petter for all I care.

Or in other words, a football game is not a marathon and it's all about winning it, not about how long you can run, and than depends on the skill and the experience of the players, on the right passes and attitude, not on their age.  In fact, the Bulgarian National Team won the 4th place during the '94 World Championship with a mostly mature team.  Same goes for writing books and making music - the energy to do it might be stronger while your're younger, but that doesn't in any way make the final product any better.  On the contrary; most writers reach their peak in later years, and the longer they work, the better they get; and they certainly can run dry as easily at 24 as they do at 80.  Programming is nothing but writing of sorts, creating.  As long as you love it, and you want to do it, and you feel you can do it, than I don't really see why the hell not.

P.S. Don'y you just find it hilarious how often John uses slashes? 

Will Code For Schnitzel

This weekend's special was a brunch with our former neighbor and current friend Morgan at Esther Bakery in the morning, and an afternoon at the Computer History Museum with our friend Jeff.  John and I had a New Year's resolution to be really antisocial this January (in order to have time to take care of all the moving nonsense and baby-related bureaucracy, and out of frugality) so we absolutely had to break the resolution as sooner as possible.  For what I see from sitting on the couch right now, our calendar for the month already looks excessively tattooed with ink of all color.  

Both gigs were on our fun list for awhile; I was craving a schnitzel - something I haven't had since Bulgaria - and I wanted to give John a few hours full of pure geekiness because I love him soooo much.  Having friends around made it even more fun, and I made good on at least one promise: I din't take any photos.  Not officially, at least.  I used my iPhone to snap some shots for the purpose of illustrating this blog and I didn't even flinch when Jeff began teasing me with the news that a brand new, and much cheaper 85mm, f1.8 Nikkor lens has come out.

In short, the schnitzel was better than the CHM, but only because I still haven't found a way to eat hardware.  I am sure that this might change by the time I enter the third trimester... Of course, the proteins wore out in only an hour or so and I had to resort to a carbs infused coffee cake we had bought for home from the German Bakery and left in the car (which is weird from biological point of view, since carbs turn into sugars and are not supposed to give more energy than proteins, but then again I am a weird pregnant woman).  The museum tour was fun, but I just can't concentrate when I am hungry.  Outside was the typical lovely winter Saturday, sunny and warm, and after a short break we all went back inside for another tour around the exhibition.  And because I saw everything I wanted during the first round, I left the guys alone and went to the gift shop, which in my humble opinion was the most interesting place in the entire museum.  They had these metal boards and magnetic words for people to make up sentences, and I had a giggling fit reading some of the most brilliant creations:

"My acumen is awesome", "You cook with more interface than joy", "But this droid would never program evil virus", and my all time favorite, "You are Kafkaesque and abscond with herculean language".

Oh, and afterwards John and I went shopping for football gear (soccer, in case you are a deluded American), because tomorrow morning he's resuming his lifetime passion and has his first game in over a year!

Nothing really deep or meaningful to share about today, except maybe the fact that while I was waiting at the museum's coffee shop I managed to fit my novel's opening in one single loose page I tore off the giftshop's sample notepad.  As everything worth writing, it was simple, raw, witty, and to the point.  I can't wait to type in on Monday!

I Love the Smell of Fatalism in the Morning

I wish I could say that I don't much care about that Friday 13th crap.  Surely, I am not paralyzed with fear, or doing some strange rituals all day long against a bad omen, but I am Bulgarian enough to be superstitious just the same.  The funny thing is, I usually have a great 13th, borderline lucky even, but the next day I always happen to pay dearly for it.  So, I decided that the best defense is a good offence, and I bravely took upon the challenge to free myself from obsolete fatalistic stereotypes when it comes to dates and days of the week.  I went out for a walk and I enjoyed myself the best way I can - with my iPhone camera and my good eye opened.

And what my good eye (read: the eye for seeing the good things) noticed was the odd, but not nearly foreboding phenomenon of the Californian Spring.  Apparently it commences in early January:

P.S. Curiously, I did meet a black cat today on my way back from doing the laundry - a big fat tomcat with the cutest white socks on his paws - but he ignored me completely and took the long way through the shrubs, deliberately avoiding crossing my path?