Programming is bridging the gap between what the code does not and what it should do once it’s complete. Yet there is the age-old adage that code is never complete. It only gets close and then you realize greater potential for improvement—which means you start over from that point on. It’s been 4 weeks since I last blogged. It’s been a whirlwind of 4 weeks since I last blogged.
In the 28 days of not posting on here, much has been attempted and a little less has been accomplished. QEMU on AEMB can now—potentially—support 4 threads. It can also handle basic IO requests; the irony exists because usually printing “Hello world!” is the first piece of code that a programmer writes—now it is a milestone somewhat far in the development of my project. It also is equipped with ethernet and interrupt-handling support although neither situation has been tested at this point. Much effort has been put into compiling test benches to verify the performance of the virtual machine. So many directions, so much development…but they are all so vague, mysterious, and seemingly untestable (until other people create the tests).
How come when I reach out my fingers it feels like more than distance between us?
The complete code is so far away from where I am. I can’t touch it but I can keep writing to get there. But there’s so much to write. And there’s so little that is observable that I wouldn’t be able to pin down the source of errors in the future should I attempt to blaze through everything now. Oh, sigh. Yes, there is more than distance between me and the complete code. There’s hesitation and fear: I should not write too much too fast. Yes, before things grow too big to be out of control. Yes, before bugs grow too deep to warrant a revert.
This project is a journey for me. As evident from this post and the past few posts, it’s been a good one. The ups and downs, the going forwards and the turning backwards…they’ve taught me about myself, about programming, and about life. Is not this just like life? Sometimes you feel strong and confident, and sometimes you feel weak and vulnerable when things start to seem to overwhelm you.
And then you plug in your earphones, play a few songs, pick yourself up, and continue that good work you’ve been doing. Tomorrow will come, and distance will disappear with time.
In this California king bed
We’re ten thousand miles apart
I’ve been California wishing on these stars
For your heart for me
My California king
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