2020-06-08
I moved to Beijing for work on Saturday,
Returning to work in Beijing feels a bit unsettling—everything has changed. First of all, I no longer have my own desk (Xiu Yun hired an intern, and for convenience, she let the intern use my desk). This is the most uncomfortable part of all the disappointments. It’s like when I transferred to Class 1 in my sophomore year of high school: sitting in a new seat, not knowing anyone, and not wanting to talk to them. Everyone here seems familiar yet distant. I feel like I have very few friends here, though rationally I know this is just an illusion. But the desire to avoid talking to people and find a corner to stay in is real—and I did find one, next to Yu Zhang. Why don’t I want to communicate with others? I still can’t figure it out. Maybe it’s because I lack a clear reason for being here? When asked why I came to Beijing and how long I’ll stay, I mumble, “A while… maybe a month or two.” Or maybe it’s because, deep down, I’m still an introvert who dislikes complexity and cares too much about whether I appear foolish to others. Yet the more I write, the more I feel that the second reason carries more weight and is even more unnecessary. First, appearing foolish is better than actually being foolish. Ask others for advice earnestly, even if it’s clumsy. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid when you’re young. Don’t be afraid at any time. All is well.
Now, about work. I’ve been busy with delivery recently, mainly the refactoring of TLM (typed lane model). This time, I need to set clear goals, control myself, avoid impulsive refactoring, and be strategic about it—keeping my progress in check.
Also, I got my desktop computer working again. It turns out the reason I couldn’t connect to the internet earlier was that I changed my password, and after a power outage, the network connection was completely lost. So I had to set up the machine again. The priorities this time are:
- Productivity
- Coolness
- Good looks
I spent a long time reading Wang Yin’s blog today—still in the process of detoxification. I used to be a frenzied religious zealot, never seeing the essence of things. I always thought something was the ultimate solution to all problems. But in reality, “ultimate solutions” are rare; most of the time, it’s just religious fanaticism, like:
- Vim vs Emacs
- OOP vs FP
- Go vs Rust
…and so on. When I first got into OOP, I thought it was invincible and could solve everything. But in the end, all I wrote was a big, all-encompassing class—one that didn’t really matter. What really mattered were the functions under that class. Later (in the past two years), when I got into FP, I thought it was a silver bullet for all problems. But after writing some programs in Scala, I found that my productivity didn’t improve much. Instead, obsessing over syntax and immutability made me less efficient.