I am often baffled by human behavior, and not the least by my own.
Code is very soothing and truthful. It exists to serve a purpose that, ideally, provides value. It can be studied and understood. It can be written then refactored, and regression tested. Even badly-written code can eventually be untangled so that its path, however trecherous and frustrating, is revealed.
Not so with those of our species. We are a complicated mix of senses, desires, intellect. It seems the more I try to untangle the mysteries of the mind, the tighter the knots around my ankles become, and then I trip headfirst into brambles.
I am deeply flawed, more so than some people and less than others. I prefer to think that I compensate for these failings and weaknesses by playing to my strengths, in the functional manner so commonly employed by most of the people I observe around me. There are days like today, though, where I find my foundation shaken and realize that I don’t really understand my strengths, desires or instincts. It’s as if I’ve lived in the glass house, but have lapsed on housekeeping; once I wash the windows I am surprised to see something completely different, foreign and unexpected outside that changes the way the light reflects back, inside.
Still, I try again. We are, after all, animals equipped with the requisite survival instincts so I, like others before me, around me and after me, push on in debug mode.