I tend to work on two sets of code. The first set is the code currently under formal development. The second set is the code that will actually be needed at the end of the project when every figures out what we were really trying to build in the first place. I can stay ahead of the game on this second set because I skip all the usual formal cruft. Then, four-fifths of the way through the project, when the formal development goes pear-shaped, I pull out the second set of code and say “let's use this.” Sure it drives my hourly rate down and means some weekend work for free, but I have more fun, learn more, and have a better portfolio to point to. (FWIW, I didn't originate this technique, one of my very early coding mentors apprenticed me in using it. We used to say: “there are four plans: plan A is the spec, plan B is what management thinks we're doing, plan C is what we're actually doing, but plan Z is what we know really needs to get done and what we'll do on the side for when it all hits the fan.”)

His books educated more than one generation of programmers and computer scientists. I can remember the decision, while I was a grad student, to part with a sizeable fraction of my net worth to buy my first Tanenbaum textbook. No regrets.

"A computer is like a violin. You can imagine a novice trying first a phonograph and then a violin. The latter, he says, sounds terrible. That is the argument we have heard from our humanists and most of our computer scientists. Computer programs are good, they say, for particular purposes, but they aren't flexible. Neither is a violin, or a typewriter, until you learn how to use it." Marvin Minsky, ``Why Programming Is a Good Medium for Expressing Poorly-Understood and Sloppily-Formulated Ideas''

When confronted with a complex problem -- often one involving data structures -- I'll often sit down and think it through. There does come a "wall" at about the five to fifteen minute mark where it becomes increasingly difficult to keep focus and keep thoughts ordered. But it's only by going through that wall that you get to the point where you can really clear your mind and focus on the problem. I suspect in the modern world of distractions, people haven't had enough experience of this or practice at it.

"The Timeless Way of Building" by Christopher Alexander.

Pondering that quote was what changed my mind on capital punishment a couple of decades ago. We shouldn't execute even monsters not because they are not monsters, but because we are not.

The most important subtext here is that this is just the beginning. The printed hand doesn't have to win against the manufactured hand on all counts just now. If it even comes close, think what that means for 3D printing a couple of decades from now, not just for prosthetics, but for many other things. We tend to think of 3D printing in terms of it's ability to displace commodities, which it will never do. What it will do is to provide less-expensive, highly customized solutions from a vast number of sources rather than expensive shelf models from a few vendors. When manufacturers realize that, cue the lobbyists and lawsuits.

...get back to me in 100 years.

or do you just think you are? It's easy to minimize the amount of work it took to get to where you are. When you first learned to program, you likely took it day-by-day, just being involved with the process itself and enjoying the it without worrying about how fast you were learning. You may actually be learning faster now, it paradoxically just feels slower because you're comparing it to all the things you already know.

This is also how I sort documents. First into piles by source, then by data.

Geany on Linux; a nice little editor reminiscent of Notepad++.

Thief 1/2 had a tongue-in-cheek campiness about them that made them fun to play in spite of the technical limitations. It was like being a kid again and being able to suspend disbelief. Looking down from the heights into the crudely polygonal catacombs was actually scary. Turning around to find a medium-res monster coming at you really made you jump. The same dumb guard saying for the fiftieth time: "Nobody shows me my own sword and yells run," still made you smile. You watched for situations in which to use the word "taffer" in real life. Ironically, the more realistic later versions actually interfered with this by being too realistic and yet failing to engage your imagination.

I'm refusing to take sides in the beta kerfuffle, but that was pretty funny and apropos.

Just point them at indeed, where, last time I checked, jQuery was ranked number eight.

I wonder how the whales feel about this?