Oblomovka

2003-03-06»

My first job was in the early nineties at a small programming magazine called .EXE. I would sit in front of a Osborne-style luggable, squinting into its tiny screen and typing into Borland Sprint. I don't quite remember the set-up, but I keenly recall having the USENET feed from cix scrolling past me on a screen to my left. I'd try and scan it for ideas, but I'd usually end up reading it all. That, and the hundreds of press releases that it was my job to decipher and sort. I had terrible filters: every bit of data from the world passed straight through me, catching slightly on the sides of my brain on the way out. I'd walked into the job from University finals, where I'd crammed three years of study into two months, and I tried to do the same thing in the real world, every day, every hour. From almost scratch, I attempted to learn C++ and bits of Unix, DPMI and Windows programming in about six months.

I burnt out pretty spectacularly. I spent the next few months in my bedroom, lying in bed with a portable TV that looked just like the luggable on my lap, looking to television for answers. When Manhattan Cable was on, my flatmates complained that it was too jerky, too data heavy. "I want to drown in information", I told Paddy, "I want to die watching TV".

I'm a lot better these days: my memory is still shot to hell, but sometime just after Wired UK and just before NTK, the splitting headaches went away; I don't rear in shock and confusion when interrupted me while PgDning through 500K text files. And I've slowly upped my tolerance to horses' doses of data, while still keeping sane. There was a brief period in 1997 I think when I worried I might not ever stop reading mail ever again - that I might spend the rest of my days hammering on Ctrl-M in Eudora, checking mail, checking mail. But that, too, passed.

I sometimes went on holidays; a little context had changed while I was away, but I could readjust. I could keep up with whatever distant horizon it was that I was chasing. I have filters.

I don't know what prompted me to think or write about this - except that I've just kicked up my RSS reader after a long hiatus, and noted how much had changed in the last week or two, to the point where I felt the shock of the new again. And I have this feeling that my life - or the world my life is embedded within - is accelerating again, like a speedboat rearing, like that first job.

I'm not sure it's entirely the birth of Ada that's prompted this. I think we may just be entering one of those periods of great activity, of nodality and tippings, after a prolonged lull. I think the game may be afoot.

2003-03-01»

I thought I'd have the perfect excuse not to blog for a few days. No such luck. That's Quinn, left, blogging this two hours and twenty minutes after giving birth to Ada.

Me, I can still barely type. I had a hundred things to write here; I have them all scribbled down around me. I have a thousand emails to reply to (thank you everyone who wrote before, during and after). I have a million things to learn. I guess I should just put down the bare facts, because otherwise I'll float out on a tide of lovey-dovey father-hormones, and I can still remember enough to know how unneccesary that is. So, your questions answered:

Ada

Yes indeed, named after Ada, the Enchantress of Numbers. Seth wrote the best tagline to commemorate: Every moment one is born.

"T."

Not sure what it stands for yet. But still, it stands!

Timing

Still unsure. Probably the 27th, even though the 26th has fine precedents. I'm going to check the timing on my camera with atomic time and work out the precise moment from that (I believe Gilbert swearing marks the actual point). Useful for when Ada rebels against her scientific family and gets into astrology big time.

Dyson the cat

Freaked for twelve hours, currently conducting a cuteness arms war with the new arrival. General impression: too arrogant to be jealous.

Midwife

Veronica Wagner and her assistant Gretchen. Fantastic. Down to earth, practical, solicitous, experienced, and calming.

Future Plans

Answer hazy, try again later. But we're modelling our family values on this.