Still Days

As the last rays

Dip beneath their concrete horizons,

And the expanse of lined scratches

On the walls widens;

As the potential increases

And the noise levels drop,

The daylong golden reverie

Of a hazy afternoon pops;

There’s another day gone,

I’m never getting back.

Still days to go,

To lay to waste;

A full life’s worth,

Lazily retraced

Still I feel

An undying waste.

Movies

I know it can be hard
In today’s age of Netflix n’ chill
But does anyone want to just
Settle down and watch a film?

I haven’t yet seen Star Wars,
But I know the plot twist already
My dad is a big fan
Of Star Wars, you see.

I’m good at not spoiling
And I don’t hog the popcorn
But if I fall asleep midway,
It’s uni’s fault; please don’t feel forlorn!

If that doesn’t work, just drop by
And bring along a kazoo,
And we’ll make funny versions of Blink-182 songs
For a good hour or two.

Flaws In The Plan

“They’ve hacked into our databases!”
“No way! It was totally secure! How did they get past our twelve-layered security?!”
“Forget that, how did they get through our code? There’s like, a million lines in there!”
“Not just that, it was also coded by us.”

“What do you mean?”
“Only we know what code we write, kid. Sometimes, not even we know it.”
“Yeah, so if they’ve figured what was going on, we’re dealing with coding experts here.”
“Wait, what?”
“Anyway, boot up the code, let’s see what they’ve accessed.”

BLEEP BLEEP BLOOP.

Ping... ping ping ping ping! (Intel Processor sounds)

Clickity clackity clack. Clack clack.

BOOP.

(Swearing noises)

“You know, there’s no shame in taking longer than a second to type in the password.”
“Shut up, intern.”

(Powering up sounds)

“Great, we’re here. Now let’s see…
What?! What’s this!”
“Looks nothing like our program! It’s all—”
“No way, you’ve got the wrong file,”
“No it isn’t. No one in this department can spell well enough to search for the path /users/SuperSecret/SDrive/scramblingfolder/fakefiles/floccinaucinihilipilification/ and access the file we’ve stored there, they’ve really got us.”

“But—isn’t that your code?”

“Whaddya mean, intern?”

“This is your code. I saw it last week. It was part of my project to add a function, and it was this file.”

“WHAT DID THEY MAKE YOU DO??”

Relax, nothing much, just run a counter that waits for 1000 seconds and prints “Please restart the application”…”

“And?”

“Well, I,”
“You did something.”
“I just documented it! God, it was just comments, it doesn’t affect the code!”

“…”

“Why did you document the code? We never document our code.”
“I know. Intern or not, your code’s disgusting to read. It’s just good practice to document it. Took me all week to read a single file.”

“The floccinaucinihilipilification file.”

“Yes,”

“Geez, no wonder we’ve been hacked.”

“What do you mean?!”

“…”
“…”

“No way.”
“You guys can’t be serious.”

“You mean to tell me, that you never had any security in the first place??”

“…well, we never needed it. No one could figure out what our code ever did. It was the simplest and most effective of security: the safety of no knowledge.”
“But now that you’ve so helpfully documented everything, we’re an open book.”

“Well, what now?”

“You’re asking me?
(sigh) I guess it’s time to put my degree to some real use, isn’t it?”

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Terrible photography and procrastination at its finest, I sometimes dig down in my gallery and find random photos of code I either was writing on the verge of giving up writing. No one has code photos on their phone. No one should.


This is in no way influenced by the fact that I am learning assembly language and can’t imagine any better use for it than for concealing stuff that’s otherwise so obvious even a beginner coder could work it out. It’s also extremely cool and puts you in a very secretive environment-frame of mind.

Winter Morning Poetry

Grey blankets on the ground
Sandwiched under by navy
Sit and watch the silence
Watch it, till it’s pierced
By a single long beep,
As the grey turns to white
And the navy to bright,
And as the soft white underneath
Is tiled by a tarmac sheet
With a beep beep bleep,
The day has begun.

Just your typical snowy winter morning poetry.

Bless snow removal workers.

Picture credits blatantly go to Pinterest because even with just a door separating me from the outdoors, I refuse to venture any more outdoors than I have to, and with my classes being done for today (and the week), I refuse to go near this “outside”.

 

 

Exploring

Everything around looks
So normal
Ordinary
Nothing out of the blue;
Nothing here does,
Except perhaps you

It’s hard to notice
When everything around
You seek
But it’s a little hard,
Out of shape
On two hours of sleep.

I’m genuinely on two hours of sleep. I was at a hackathon all weekend, and when school, travel and travel costs all add up, you have to give it your all!
And so I think I may have slept a little between 4:30 and 5:30. Maybe.

Totally worth it!

The best part about hackathons is the total exploration. You often end up staying overnight in a single building designated as a coding area. Even if it’s a building you’re quite familiar with, there’s nothing a whole night there can’t teach you that you already knew from spending two hours a week in lecture there. You find new cozy hacking/study spots and if you’re home, you have a alternative to the old stuffy library for the rest of your education!

For me, this time it was about exploring (infiltrating?) a new (rival?) school’s comp sci base: I was up in Montreal! (The commute did not agree with me however!)

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I’d like to walk here more often. Would you? The seamless coexistence of old and modern architecture make for a very interesting picture—and is quite similar to Toronto’s case.

I snuck out on my short break and walked around some really stunning architecture. I wish I’d had more time to explore the city, but my lack of time was a whole other story!
It’s a story that probably deserves its own post: the travel post with some bonus theatrical thrills, because believe you me a sleep-deprived kid mostly confined to the insides of a computer science department building, can still get into fixes.

Hackathons are also a great way to make new friends! Even if it is at your own school or university, spending twenty four hours debugging and crying over your own bad coding habits with someone else is sure to earn you a new friend, one who always knows the pain of getting 178 nested errors only to follow them to the first instance of where thing started going wrong and for your error message to make absolutely no sense to anyone. They’ve seen you there before, in the wee hours of the morning.

Another super cool part of the exploration that goes on at hackathons is obviously, an exploration into the world of computer science, and all its wonderful skills! Most people end up learning something new at a hackathon, maybe because what you’d like to make uses a platform you’ve never used before, or if you’re playing around with totally new, shiny, cool hardware and writing code to talk to it: I will never tire of being amazed at how we bounce electricity around to get a cool chip-spider or whatever’s new in the hardware lab, to talk to your computer and do whatever you command it to do (as long as there are no bugs, of course!)

I gave InVision the ditch and tried out some prototyping on Figma this time, and my word, Figma is advanced. It looks to simple to begin with, but you can use it to come within inches of having the appearance of decently sophisticated code usable by neat UI.

I do want to make another one of those process boards series I made for another prototyping project that was quite close to my heart… and I will, on the other blog that’s supposed to have my art/design stuff in one place! In the meanwhile, you’re welcome to play around with the app from this morning that I wish I’d coded and not just prototyped… Figma genuinely can make stuff look real good!

Screenshot 2020-02-02 at 10.30.29 PM
Knock yourselves out. Don’t doubt that my exhausted ass will be anticipating you every tap with manic glee that only comes with excessive hours of prototyping in a day that manifest in the form of unnatural attachment to a sequence of light bulbs going off on an LCD monitor.

Pride

Stride
All you like
With a glide
In your footsteps
And pride
Hold your chin up
High
Like you have somewhere to
Go
And purpose to show
In every pace you
Move
And they approach
Calm, composed
Silent,
With the briefest look in the
Eye
That doesn’t give away my
Lies
Push on
One step
Back to my back

To let it all out
In a jelly wobble.

Walking through new buildings looking for a study space is one of the most psychological experiences I have in a day.
I know most people are only trying to help, but when I’m in a new building and looking around for someplace I might want to plop and get working, I really don’t want you asking me, “Where do you want to go?”
Am I lost? Yes, I’m lost. Can you help me? No, because I don’t know where I want to go. Yes, you’ve been around this building for years and years and know every inch of it by the inhale at the start of the syllable it begins with, but you still can’t help me, and I don’t want to stick around and hear it.
I know you’re being nice, but I’m just feeling like there’s impending judgement. Just don’t acknowledge me. I’ll find somewhere to sit.

Apart from that, exploring new buildings is also admittedly one of the coolest things you can do, because as a student, you’re legally allowed to just walk into a random building and it’s not trespassing, and you get to live out your Dora The Explorer dreams.

I got me supplies, let’s go!

What do you find exciting in a normal day? And what terrifies you, even though it’s totally normal?

Breaks

“Alright, James, this is it.

Our big moment. Our day in the sun. Our breakthrough. The beginning of the dream.
No longer will this old life continue. This is the start of fame and fortune, and a successful career.

James, oh James!
Make a bold statement, James!”
“I already did, Lily, here it is, in bold, and italics too. Good luck paying for the printing.”

Shades of Sunday

Sundays
Traditionally quiet
And quiet in reality
But there’s a buzz
That cannot be heard
Even by the few that pass by
Cogs whirring and plans cementing
Wasn’t the weekend the outlet of the bold?
Not so this damp morning;
Dreams of a Monday
Steadily carving
In the recesses of the mind
And into the rhythms of time

Elevated,
But only in location
Planning out the rest of the week
Kept amused
By a tree stump sticking out
Into a mountain of shovelled snow,
Interesting to no one else
But all I can see as I look out
On this damp, empty day.
Where did the world creep away?
There’s no one else here
Empty, post apocalyptic;
But calming, in some odd way.

It’s funny how your perceptions of Sunday are always changing, depending on who you are. Is Sunday your rest day? Is it the day to catch up on cartoons? Is Sunday morning, as Kurt Cobain said, everyday? Or perhaps as Lou Reed said, a time when the world’s behind you?
To me, it’s the calm before the storm, in every single way.
Universities tend to be quiet on weekends. Every person who walks by is a case to be thoroughly examined, Sunday is when they won’t be lost in the masses. It’s the morning after Saturday’s madness and a chance to catch your breath. For me, it brings the excitement of the next week, the Monday when I do my radio work, and a chance to do my homework and chill out simultaneously, without being guilty.

Ah, the many shades of a Sunday! How’s your Sunday?

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The shadowy shades of a different Sunday, as I could see it.