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Well, the trip to Cambridge went well. I managed to get there in plenty of time, due to having taken the entire day off work, met my friend Pufferfish for coffee etc, then headed out to ARM HQ. The recruitment evening was pretty good: several tech demos running, including a pair of speedcubers and a big 3d display driven by a smartphone GPU, and several people from ARM who were advertising posts in their departments. I got some fairly positive noises from processor toolchain, verification and technical publishing, and will be following them up soon. Not bad, given my lack of preparation.
After work comes fun, so they tell me. Pufferfish led me back through the Cambridge bus system to her house, where I stayed the night, and the next day I saw a bit of Cambridge, had lunch with a group of friends from up here and went home. I ended up travelling during the tail end of rush hour, and there wasn't a seat to be had all the way between Cambridge and Brighton. So today I have tired legs, but I'm glad I went. Saw friends, and a new city, and somewhere I might well end up working.
Today I'm not as strong as I'd like to be, mentally. I'm tired, can't shake this headache and my legs and shoulder are playing up. So it goes. I wish I were a better person: stronger, able to shrug off things like this and get on with life. I guess that one's a work in progress.
Speaking of progress, I have five copies of my DPhil thesis in my bag. I'll be handing it over the desk at Sussex Uni at about 1615, and that'll be it, done. Thesis finally staked. Thank goodness for that.
So, viva prep proceeds apace, aside from a little moment when my internal examiner "reminded" me that it was on Monday the 14th. It appears he can't operate his calendaring software, which is fine: I'd much prefer that to ANOTHER un-notified rescheduling on such short notice.
The presentation is basically written, just needs a little tweaking, then I need to write the prompt cards, then rehearse the damn thing 'til it flows (I hear it's sort of de rigeur to be repeatedly interrupted with questions, and I'm historically quite poor at regathering my threads once interrupted).
I'm kind of annoyed that I've gotten so little done today, but what with following the news in Japan (massive earthquake, possible containment breach in a nuclear reactor, etc), the sudden and heavy cold that has struck me at the worst possible time, WASHING ALL THE THINGS so we can move the drying racks out of the guest room in time for houseguest next week.... there's been no time. It's like being nibbled to death by cats...
Tomorrow I will make the time. Tomorrow I will finish and rehearse the presentation, reread my thesis to ward off unpleasant surprises, and get ready for the week. 's gonna be a tough one.
So, my viva date is finally set for the 15th of March. Which is ... next Tuesday.
So I guess I better get started on my presentation, huh?
(long story, but basically due to Politics and Colliding Calendars, it's been kinda tricky to get a date. It was the 16th for a while, then it got moved to the 22nd, then to early April, so I relaxed a bit, and got on with some of the actual work I'm doing at, y'know, WORK. Then it was the 15th. Drop everything, write ~40 slides, rehearse presentation, flail.)
On the up side, I was footling with my CV the other night, and discovered that done right, the "Experience and past jobs" section I was leaving blank on account of not having left university yet actually holds an awful lot, if you look at it from the right angle. Front-line tech-support, both telephonic and over desk. Systems administration. Contract work for ... certain people. Embedded Systems research, design and implementation. So perhaps my CV isn't as tragic as I thought it was.
That said, I'm revisiting my thesis while prepping this presentation, and it's not as bad as I thought it was, either. Couldn't stand to look at it or read it immediately I'd finished writing, but now? Not so bad.
Maybe there's a lesson in that.
(follows on from here)
It's dark again. Well, it's always dark, but sometimes you forget.
Welcome back. It's been a while, hasn't it? Hard to tell, time just sort of ... slips by out here. I'm sure everyone else felt the passage. Feel free to pass me, and enter the circle, but if you've a minute, I've come to ... a bit of a realisation.
Just a few moments ago, I felt something I haven't in the longest time. One of those in the circle turned around, and looked squarely at me, and some kind of ... spark leapt the distance, making a connection from the centre of her chest to the centre of mine. It warmed the both of us, a pleasant little throb within our hearts. I could see it in her eyes for a moment, but it took little time at all before the warmth began to focus within me, too hot, too sharp. Another came between us, and the link was severed: I was all but grateful, for a little while at least.
The connection fell forgotten to the ground, leaving the two of them to radiate without me. But for all that this should maybe be a tale of woe, I remain uncertain that it is. I feel still that tiny flutter, that uncertain beat that reminds me of how these things work, of how real people live, and think, and feel and love. I had forgotten that, I think, lost it on my travels, like spare change or a used handkerchief. More fool me. I've been out here far too long.
The creatures still pass around and between us unseen, unbidden, howling their defiance at the wheeling stars. I used to think them a great threat, to be avoided, and driven off, but I'm less and less sure of that as time passes. I think maybe they wear the mantle I have taken on, and that maybe they suit it better. I think perhaps they are no more my enemy than you are.
Look, there, on the edge of the world. Is that aurora? No. The rosy fingers of dawn I think, come to end the longest night and bring us a new day, a new beginning, a new chance. Give it time. But when the new day comes, don't waste it.
I mean not to.
Imagine, if you will, a vast and level plain. It's probably sandy. It's night-time, and the darkness above is absolute: there are no clouds, no skyglow from cities on the horizon, just the hard, bright, stars slowly marching across the sky.
Campfires dot the plain. Each fire is surrounded by a circle of tiny figures, talking, singing, laughing, drinking... Doing whatever it is that people do. Zoom in a little, jink left... a bit more... there. That's us, right there, you, me and the others. Some lead, some follow, some stoke the fire. Each of them is doing something, something useful.
And there I am, patrolling the edge of the circle of light. Every so often I look towards the fire, maybe even step inward a bit, but the brightness burns my eyes. Other times, I drift off into the darkness that separates the fires from each other, but the cold brings me back before too long. It's bitterly cold out here, alone from the fires.
Worse, there seems to be something out here with me. Every time I stop paying attention and look inward, let the fire dance on my face and actually look at the people I circle, I become aware of a low growling, a presence in the dark. I've caught glimpses of it before, a big, dark, canine creature, but it never comes close enough to see clearly. Not from the front, anyway, I've felt it breathing down my neck before, without any warning. It doesn't stay long, thankfully, and it hasn't done me any harm. Yet. I don't even know if it's the worst that's out here.
There are others, circling other fires. If we come close enough, we nod and half-smile to each other: we never say anything. A knowing smile speaks volumes, and means we needn't disturb the others with sudden, unexpected noises. There's a certain weary familiarity when we recognise another of our kind, I think: someone who has been where we've been.
Not that it has any meaning out here, but I think it's getting late, and I can hear the creature again. It's close, just beyond my sight... has been for a while, I think. Best you get back to the fire, and I'll get back to ... what I do.
Islands in the dark, each connected to its peers only loosely. Each one with its guardians, and each with its talkers, its singers and its providers. And the stars wheel on.