My cat is very presumptuous.

Since nearly every cat presumes their own eminence, I suppose it’s not that big of a revelation.

I just like long, “smart” sounding words, I suppose.

So, I had a McRib sandwich today.

I’ve had them before.  

However, I’m actually paying attention to what goes into my body, for once in my life.

I have to say, making the McRib one of those “special” items that comes and goes randomly is probably the best thing they could do for it.

The McRib reminds me of the beef frankfurters MRE meal.

The main meal packet of the beef franks are 4 sausage like things. The common name for the meal was the Four Fingers of Death.

The thing is…  individually, the beef franks weren’t that bad.  In fact, a gutsy soldier could eat up to three of them without any ill effects.  However, eating the fourth one (no matter what order you eat them in, from left to right, right to left, middle to outside, or outside to middle) invariably left the victim diner feeling very ill.

The McRib is the same way.  It’s not so bad…  until you go to finish it.

I hereby dub the McRib the herpes of fast food:  Most of the time, you want to forget it, and when it’s finally forgotten, it always comes back.

Rubber chickens make for great mascots of orbital stellar observatories.

Camilla (blog, Facebook, Twitter) makes for an amazing mascot of NASA’s Stellar Dynamics Observatory (or Little SDO).

This public service announcement brought to you by trillions of electrons.

For the first time in my life, I can stand up and say that I understand religion.

At least, I understand theistic religions.  I still don’t understand Buddhists.  However, I haven’t devoted nearly as much time to understanding them as I would like.

Just because I understand something, however, does not mean that I agree with it.

My Understanding

How I came to understand religion is a sad story.  There are happy parts, but the moment that sparked the realization is a very sad one.

This is your clue to bring tissues.

As you know, my wife is pregnant.  This is the happy part of the story.

My wife and I have been trying to have a child since shortly after we got married, over 8 years ago.  Well, rather, we spent a year trying, and the rest of the time not preventing.  We didn’t think it was possible, and even though the symptoms of pregnancy started adding up, it wasn’t until the child was already grown to the second trimester that we found out, simply because it never occurred to us to test.

As I became more used to the idea of having a child (and later finding out that she is a girl), I found myself opening up emotionally in ways I never have before.

Now, many baby books that are geared towards fathers warn that you shouldn’t be disappointed if you don’t feel love for your child right when it is born.  They advise that the love will come, and will be greater than any emotion ever.

Well, I must be a freak of nature.  I already love the little brat, and I’ve never seen her.  (We’ve had 4 ultrasounds so far, but I don’t count those, because I haven’t been able to count the fingers and toes yet.)  I would do anything for her, endure any trial, if it gave her the best chance to grow up healthy, happy, and to be her own person.

Unfortunately, this is the end of the happy part of the story.  It is now time to tell someone else’s story.

One of my good friends had a daughter 2 months ago.

The pregnancy was very harsh.  She was bedridden for the entire third trimester, close to death, and her husband was deployed in Iraq.  Things became so bad that the Army sent him home early to be with her.

After she was born, their daughter seemed fine for the first few weeks.  Then, they began to notice that she couldn’t hold her head up, and she was far weaker than she was supposed to be, at her stage of development.

Two weeks ago, she was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy, a genetic disease that prevents signals from flowing through the spinal cord properly.  Her parents were advised that children diagnosed with SMA at such a young age very often die within two years.

With the diagnosis, they were better able to help their daughter.  They began giving away things that they could never use, such as a chest harness for carrying the baby, since she has to be able to hold her head up in order to be carried in one.

Yesterday, it pains me to say, she died.  Her lungs could no longer keep up.

It broke my heart.  Here was an innocent infant, barely 2 months old, who was destined to die without speaking a word.

I got to thinking about my own unborn child, about how I would react to my own daughter dying.

I realized that my first thought would be to grasp for any way to see her alive.  Even if it meant rejecting reason, throwing away all evidence, calling my senses and reason a lie, and accepting an after life, and all the magic and gods and religion that follows.

People can not reject religion, because they have lost people they love.  Instead of going through the grieving process, they stop at denial, bottle everything up into the afterlife, and put it on a shelf, never to be dealt with.

When people reject religion, they have to face grief.  They have to accept the idea that they will never be with that loved one again.

I don’t blame anyone for running away from that pain.  Religion is the perfect proxy for grief.  It allows denial, since we’re going to see that person again, right?  It lets us focus our anger, I mean, how cruel must our god be to let that person die?  It gives us something to bargain with, so that we never have to slip into depression.  We certainly don’t have to face the most horrid of all specters in the grieving process: acceptance.

Now, I wouldn’t have a problem with religion, if it stopped there.  At least an afterlife means that we won’t ever see the person we lost again while we’re still alive.  For most people, that idea is harmless enough as it is.

However, Abrahamic religions take the afterlife a step further, and judge people by whether they’re good or evil.  I don’t hold all religions blameless here.  European indigenous religions (Pagans, Witches, Druids, Heathens, etc.) typically sacrificed lower class people to appease their gods.  I’m sure there are many examples of violence done in the name of religion in all cultures.  However, I have not heard of any atrocities nearly as violent as those done in the name of Jesus, including the Spanish Inquisition and the Nazi Holocaust.  

Nobody has ever killed anyone else in the name of atheism.

The problem with the Heaven/Hell paradigm, is that it is based entirely on entitlement, exclusion, elitism, greed, and outright hate.  I mean, it’s all good that I get to spend all eternity in paradise, but that guy needs to suffer for all eternity.  Seriously, how hateful do you have to be to wish someone would be in relentless agony for all of time?

The base of all religions is fear.  Fear of never seeing a loved one again.

The secondary base of most religions (especially those that are the most popular near me) is hate…  Hate that manifests in the wholesale slaughter of anyone who questions whether your beliefs are right.

I have thought long and hard about a possible meaning to life.  If there was a creator, what possible reason could there be for us to be alive?

The only answer that I could come up with, is that we are alive in order to experience life.

Fear and hate both take away from this purpose.  Rather than living life to its fullest, experiencing the great and marveling and the intricacies of the small, we worry about sin, or pissing off the creator(s) in some way.  We ostracize those who have different beliefs than our own, because we fear them and hate them.

I understand religion.  It is a delusion; a disease of fear and hate, breeding condescension.  It prevents people from dealing with reality, chains them together in mutual fear and anger.  The trap of religion is as enticing to creatures who know of their own mortality and the mortality of their loved ones, as the mouths of carnivorous plants are enticing to insects.

So, the movie The Social Network introduced to the general public the concept of programmers being “plugged in.”

That is, that there are times when you must not disturb a programmer, because they’re doing Great Things.

Well, it’s true.  There is a different state of mind that programmers (and probably a lot of other professions) have.  The concept of being plugged in goes by many different names.  I prefer to call it being in the zone, or zoned out.  However, the reason why you shouldn’t disturb a programmer who is deep in their code, is because it just plain sucks.

First, let me explain what being deep in the code is like.

… um…  It’s like when you…

Okay, no, it’s easier to describe the taste of salt to someone who has never tasted salt.  If you have been in the zone, you know what it is, and if you haven’t, then it can’t be described to you.

However, I can describe the things that I notice after I come up.

Time passes oddly.  A person can lose several hours, thinking only a dozen minutes have passed.

Abstract concepts spring up easily.  It becomes as easy to think of a database as it’s easy to think of a grain silo, and a connection to that database is as easy of a concept as a truck where the driver has to carry the right forms to get the right goods.  Equations spring to mind.  It becomes as easy to see a program as it’s easy to see an assembly line or a supply chain.

The world disappears.  You can’t hear anything unless it is truly startling (which is why programmers tend to wear ear phones…  to drown out anything that might be startling).  You can’t see anything except what is on your screen…  and even then, you’re not paying attention to the words, you’re thinking of the concepts behind them.  There is nothing but the code…  at least, until you run out of coffee or have to go to the bathroom, or your wife calls you in to take out the trash.

Understand?  Good.

With this view of being “plugged in,” “in the zone,” or “deep in code,” we can now discuss what it’s like to be distracted.

It sucks.

Imagine you’re in a dream…  Could be any dream…  well, not a nightmare…  you’re just in a generally calm dream.

You’re walking along in the dream.  Nothing eventful is going on.  Life is good.

Then you fall over in your dream and wake up.  You’re wide awake, fully alert, and you have that sickly feeling in your stomach from a sudden surge of adrenaline.

You don’t know what has been going on around you, you’re totally disoriented with your fight-or-flight instincts kicking in, still partially paralyzed from sleep.

That’s a lot what it’s like to distract someone who is deep in the code.

Like I said, it sucks.  If you have to distract a programmer, treat them like you’d treat a sleepwalker…  Get their attention, let them come out of their trance, then after they’re awake you can tell them what you want to tell them.

Some programmers react violently to being distracted.  They don’t tend to keep jobs, though, and are few and far between.  Some programmers tend to get resentful of being distracted.  They need to get over themselves.  For a little while, they’re programming, and what they’re doing is the most important thing in their universe, and then along comes reality to remind them that there are other things in the universe too.  The thing for them to remember is that they can re-enter the zone, that the zone is always a temporary state, and the more they deal with reality, the less often reality distracts from the code.

How does one enter the creative zone, so close to Nirvana, etc?

Simple:  Do something creative that you’re genuinely interested in.

The more you do it, the longer you’re able to hold on to that feeling.

The benefits?  Um…  It feels good.

It really doesn’t create more inspired code.  Inspiration creates inspired code, and you can be inspired no matter how lucid you are.  (Honestly, the more lucid you are, the better the code, over the long term.)

It doesn’t make you write code any faster.  People who say it does are under an illusion caused by them just not paying attention to the time.  Being deep in the code distracts you from paying attention to the time, it doesn’t warp time itself.  While it is harder to be distracted from programming while in the zone, being disciplined is far more reliable and far more effective at keeping a programmer productive.

So, really, there is no reason why a non-programmer should keep from distracting a programmer who is “plugged in.”  There are no benefits for the program, no benefits for the company, etc.

But, even with no objectively measurable benefits, it is awfully kind to let someone in the zone keep on working in the zone.

I’d just like to say that coffee is excellent.

And that’s all I have to say on that subject.

However, I have more to say on other subjects.

Healthcare, for instance.  Today, I start searching for healthcare options.

Yep, I’m uninsured.  

Why?

Glad you asked.

When I was in the Army, healthcare was free…  and very cheap for my wife.  It was socialized healthcare at its best.  It worked great.  If I got sick, I would just pass out, and be carried to the hospital.  As long as I had my ID, they wouldn’t ask me about insurance, I’d get a needle of salt water stuck in my arm, a prescription of ibuprofen, and I’d be ready for anything the next day.  If I had a cavity, they’d inject Novocaine, get some pliers, and I’d be out in 5 minutes.

Okay, no, I’m exaggerating.  The healthcare was very good.  The doctors listened, and did everything they could to make sure I was in top health all of the time.  They even gave me a note saying that I didn’t have to sweep or mop floors for about 2 months.  The dentists were very kind, and did everything they could to keep as many teeth as possible…  Considering that I have a genetic bone condition that makes all bone-like structures (including my teeth) very brittle, and it would have been cheaper and easier for them to give me dentures, I am quite impressed.

Then I left the Army.  I went to college, and got a job working in a big-box warehouse store.  I looked at the healthcare options very carefully, and picked an option that we could afford.  It turned out that we couldn’t afford it…  at least, not while paying for rent, utilities, etc., and also feeding ourselves.

So, when it came time to renew the healthcare, I took another look…  this time with a calculator in hand.  I learned that if I just did regular checkups, that I could pay for my healthcare out of pocket for cheaper than the monthly premiums of the cheapest plan.  I realized that if I just did regular checkups, that the insurance wouldn’t pay a single penny, even if I took the most expensive plan.  

I could not afford health insurance and receive any sort of healthcare.  I could pay for insurance and never see a doctor…  or I could get regular checkups without insurance…  but not both at the same time.  With the plan that I could afford, I would have to be hospitalized, and have been driven tens of thousands of dollars into debt before the insurance would start to kick in to pay barely half of any subsequent bills…  that is, only if I went to the right hospital and saw the right doctor, otherwise I’d have to pay for all of it myself.

I opted for the safer, smarter choice, and dropped the insurance.

That’s my situation today.  I’m about to start calling insurance companies and find out what plans they have available.  I’m going to have a spreadsheet open so that I can do calculations while on the phone, and I have some very important questions to ask.  I’ll give the insurance companies the benefit of the doubt; they’re a business, after all, and every business wants customers, so I don’t foresee any problems from them.

Anyways, I’m hoping that with the changes in healthcare law that went into effect recently, that the insurance companies will be more reasonable…  so that I no longer have to choose between paying for insurance or paying for healthcare.

A new blog.  

Yay.

Anyways.

Hello, everyone.  I am Adam.  Pleased to meet you.

I suppose you want to know why you should care about me.

I’m a philosopher, software developer, network engineer, veteran of the US Army, and husband.  I have yet to change a diaper, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, set a bone, comfort the dying, or die gallantly.

I used to write a blog.  It was very mildly successful, gathering an estimated couple dozen regular readers.  The topic of the blog was inner peace.  Honestly, there is only so much a person can write about one topic.  Specialization is for insects.

Those who have read my past blog should be happy to hear that I finally quit smoking.  As of writing this, it’s been about two and a half months.

I have bigger news, though.

My wife is pregnant.  Tomorrow starts the 25th week. I’m going to be a father soon.

We have already identified her as a girl, and we have already given her a name.

She is Nikaia Bryce, and she is already the most precious, most important thing in my life.

Also, because of her, I finally understand religion.  I don’t agree with it, but I understand it.