If it was Me Reading the Signs

Something about my job is addictive. I would sound geeky, but there's something in (or that comes with) programming that makes me float.

Eighteen years ago, I was five then, and I wanted to be an artist. I still do. I draw doodle a lot. Which is relaxing. Especially, painting. Hand painting is the best. And colors. And layers. And merging. It was is my happy place. When I want to feel safe, it is where I go to. But you see.. I never wanted to just play it safe. I want life to be like a Math quiz bee; I have to press the button, and raise the pencil and board (with the correct answer) within a minute.

I crave for speed.

Sixteen years ago, I was seven, and I wanted to write. I envied hailed columnists, and journalists, and book authors. I was seven and I wrote and I started with poetry. Most, if not all, were about the flower pet I got, i.e. a bougainvillea. Poem after poem I depended on living things nearest me: nature, dogs, sky, dad. And when I realized I had no more, nothing new to describe, I stopped. I shifted to a longer version. Prose. Essays. Blocks of text. It felt good to be more than a certain number of syllables. The longer, the better. I didn't know where to stop. Ideas flowed and it was got too much to edit. I had to stop. It was frustrating; I wasn't good enough to write. I either had too little a dictionary, or too much. With writing, unfortunately, I got limits.

I had to be limitless.

Fourteen years ago, I was nine, and I was going to be a lawyer. Litigator. I wanted to be the arguing type. For only one thing: there's this thrill I enjoy from winning. Which was obvious since I was a kid. The time I started asking too much, I was three. And I never accepted the answer 'just because'. There were longer, annoying, different versions of 'Why can't I let barbie kiss the baby? How can that be possible? Did the doctors tell you that?'. Honestly, until now, I am considered impolite. Disrespectful. Something I don't agree with. How can reasoning be synonymous to being stubborn? If I just accept everything being thrown at me, how can I know what is and what is not? I will always have the urge to fight for what I believe in. I had to be a lawyer... Until I learned that it comes with SEVERAL years of studying. Even after college. So I told myself, scratch that!

I can't wait.

Fourteen years ago, I was still nine, I wanted to be an architect, instead. But not an engineer. For unknown reasons, I never wanted to be an engineer. But an architect, it was in my list. And this was because of Peter Pan. And his 'cool' treehouse¹. I had to have one. I made the most amazing designs [which were based on my silly standards]. I was happy. It was fun. Until I became an adult-ish, and (Sorry Walt Disney!) I accepted gave up. Unfortunately, it wasn't something to press me; I/it felt silly.

I need something to push myself to do more.

So how I ended up in a relationship with computers, well...



Something about my job is addictive. I would sound geeky, but there's something in (or that comes with) programming that makes me float.

I am in love with what I do. I thought I chose this [just] because A) IT apparently got loads of cash; and B) I got no other better option. But yeah, surprisingly, I am destined to be... THIS.

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¹ Peter Pan's. [Not my designs]