Engineering

Everywhere I go, I see solutions. I see solutions because I see problems. Some of the solutions are good, some are bad, all are well intentioned and few reach fruition. A younger me tried to save the world, an older me tries to save what he can. An exercise in frustration most of the time.

But you can't stop the spirit. You just can't deny it. And when something happens right... well, Nikola Tesla said it best:

I do not think there is any thrill that can go through the human heart like that felt by the inventor as he sees some creation of the brain unfolding to success... Such emotions make a man forget food, sleep, friends, love, everything.

It is so true. To see something come alive is truly a wonderful thing. To see it fulfill a purpose, be it ever so small, brings a deep enjoyment that it seems few will know.

In software, it might be that perfect line of code.

In writing, it might be an idea congealed in words and paragraphs.

In engineering, it could be as simple as using only what is available to do something no one else has done, or fixing a complex problem with a simple solution.

In systems, it could be the use of a system in a new and imaginative way.

But with all of these things, there comes a deep seated sense of frustration. At the world. At what could be fixed so simply, but remains unfixed and will remain unfixed because of systems that cripple those that could. Those that would. And therefore, those that should.

Yesterday, I completed the removal of the old, dead cactus from the yard I grew up in. The trunk, measuring about a foot and a half wide, was all dead - all the way through. I let the embers of a small fire do the majority of the work and kicked it over yesterday; it was close to the fence and was an eyesore. Plus, it bothered me that I never finished it - I had worried the cactus over the last year, pulling down the dead parts of it piece by piece and then working my way down the stump with axe and cutlass.

It was such a good place to relieve stress. I suppose I'll have to dust off the heavy bag downstairs again.

But what I had found months ago were two young plants of the same cactus. One I gave to a neighbor. One I planted in the center of the area where the elder cactus was too close to the fence, and it stands almost 3 feet tall today. I expect that over the years, long after I leave here, it will grow into a great cactus as its parent once was - and less hindered by the fence and surrounding walls. It will dominate that corner of the yard. That, somehow, is important to me.