July 30th, 2022

john | July 31, 2022, 3:54 a.m.

I don't know what to write about yet again.  No one ever does, it is all made up as it goes along.  Every book ever written, started as nothing.  I think I sort of want to try and write other things, but who knows. 

I wrote some code today.  It didn't necessarily fix the problem.  But as with most of the things, I made some progress.  Even if it leads to a brick wall because then I can just pull out the sledge hammer.  

There was a video once of a man tearing down the Berlin wall.  I had the privilege of seeing it with my owns eyes once.  It was amazing.  Not the wall, but just the sense of feeling I got there.

I can't recall if I went to the museum before or after that.  I want to err on saying before, but I don't remember.  But the feeling of the history of that wall was impactful.

I wonder if I would of felt the same had I not known the history.

I'm not done writing yet.  I always feel some sort of progress happening.  I suppose I had to break a slight old habit to make new progress.   I don't know why I am just meandering at this moment.  I think it's with the bliss of knowing that I was probably wrong all along growing up on so many things.

But I was right on so many others.  Then again, there is no real way to quantify anything.  Some things you can, time for example.  Even though due to space time, it is relative.  At least there are attempts to measure it.

The ramblings of a man an army of robots pounce on.  For no reason other than their purpose is to do that one thing.  I wonder if they feel satisfaction.  To be satisfied is by and far one of the most difficult things to achieve.  But the life gratitude that comes from having achieved the feeling of satisfaction is rather a sort of an unadulterated joy.

I guess maybe it's just that.

The plot thickens, for no reason other than it started getting whipped like whole milk.  Kinda creamy.  Like these satisfied robots.

Yeah maybe I am onto something, just maybe.  Time of course being a fickle thing.