Recently, I have been looking into Ruby on Rails, while I'm more then familiar with programming in Ruby, I've never really had much opportunity to play with RoR. Then again, the amount of time I've had to spend around Python for one reason or another, I haven't been using Ruby all that much in the past few years. Still, about all I need is API docs, and a language reference here and there for things I rarely need (e.g. the interpreters environment variables). I've also been parsing a copy of Effective C++ from the library, in the odd chance that I might learn something 'new'. I know enough about programming to be weary of the quad-barreled super shotgun constantly pointing at ones feet, but don't always physically have the time to deal with C++s minute details. It's the price of living here, productive use of time = death star sized more valuable then over thinking. Then again, most people would say that I over think >-<.
I've been thinking a bit about my note storage problem, as I don't use my journal for 'every' train of thought, although this months number of entries might suggest otherwise lol. Working on solving that problem of notes management, might be one way to pass some time, and try and reclaim some lost stack space, the question is whether or not I can actually work on something that complex right now...
For days I've been feeling in knots, living here is like having your head banged into a wall. Literally it feels like a cross between wanting to puke your guts out, and having your insides rung out like a wet towel; not comfortable! Dissatisfied with my war for freedom, my mother seeks to enlist help in constraining me, from even marching to the library—while simultaneously being the idiomatic stick in the mud, about my interest in getting a license and a separate job.
In short, she's trying to type cast me from an animal in a cage, to an animal chained inside a cage.
Never in my life, have I ever been afforded peace... it's been denied me, since birth. It's rare here, that I'm even treated like a human being deserving of life; whether or not I deserve to live, I'm the last person who can answer that question—but I am a human being. Is it such a horrible thing, to ask that life have some reason to get out of bed in the morning, some reason to draw breath? Arguably I would've been better off eliminating myself in the early 2000s, but *every* concept of improving the quality of existence, has generally been met with the up most hostile force, that my family can attempt to bring to bear.
What the fuck kind of family is this? I know I've considered it "Non functional", as a private notational level below dysfunctional, but somethings just make me fucking sick to my stomach. I can't take much more of this. DEFCON 0, begins to look all the more sharply on the horizon. I will not be caged! I've passed up opportunities in order to do whats right by family, but I will not be locked away...
Death or liberty, there is no third notion - and like John McClane, I die hard.