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Perform, monkey boy.


Three reviews today, two of them are mine. I will spend four hours in conference rooms today. And I'm really not looking forward to it. The upside is that it will be done, at least as done as it can be in the ever-changing environment that is this workplace.
But today, I feel like I have to be the performing seal. And it is just so hollow. I can do it, certainly. I am experienced enough and good enough that reviews don't bother me at all. The only stuff that is going to end up being in question will be nit-picky stuff over the corporate coding standards, which I could care less about in the big picture.
(Yes, I understand the need for coding standards, and I respect them. But in another year I won't be here to deal with them and I'll never have to see them again; there will be a new set of standards that is completely different.)
I just feel hollow. Unfulfilled. Originally this job was going to end in another five weeks; now it seems perpetual.


Dream last night where I had to run through a sort of gauntlet to be accepted into the folds of some organization. I made it through, not without some difficulty, and I was assigned a number: 45.
I don't know the significance of the number. It might indicate the age at which I make it through "the gauntlet", or it might be my rank in this particular organization, or it could simply be meaningless.


The need to create is overwhelming. Tough to decide whether it is a distraction or whether it is real, or a combination of both. I feel like I want to be a hermit, to close myself off from the outside world and sculpt, and design, and build. If it wasn't for the whole work thing, I could do just that.


The holding pattern continues.

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