Nothing like taking a metaphor and running with it. I guess I feel like every really good metaphor deserves a poem written about it. Maybe that’s back-asswards, but I like those one-meat-a-phor poems. There’s technical jargon for them, I know, but I can’t be bothered to search for it right now, what with the words coming hither-thither and all. It’s raining outside you know, really getting water into everything.
Probably nobody’s noticed, but I write a lot of these poems after midnight, then backdate the entries to look like I wrote them the day before, usually right at 11:59. This happens when I’m about to go to bed and realize I haven’t yet written a poem for the day.
Yes, I realize they haven’t all been about technology as I’d promised. Especially the last couple. But it’s almost like I’ve been thinking about technology so much that when it comes time to write, I want to escape it rather than exalt in its glorious majesty. This last week I have found myself more and more thinking about code when I’m not working. Maybe it’s the eight-hour days, but suddenly I am a programmer in my non-working hours too. I have a project whose deadline is ostensibly the end of this month (but the client has been taking their sweet time approving things, so I’m sure we can push back on that date), anyway, I’m getting a little worried that I haven’t started the programming yet. So I woke up this morning and was defining the database tables for it in my head. This is Friday. My day off. My day for me. What am I doing?
The night before last, I looked over at Laura after a silence, I forget which of us asked what the other was thinking about, but we’d both been thinking about work. How does this happen? I used to be so good at separating work from home. I have so many favored forms of escapism in my arsenal. I’m going to go find some…