Raalnan Five (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} raalnan5) wrote,@ 2008-04-05 02:38:00 |
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Random Application Development
Rahsaan had been having another one of his famous bouts of enthusiasm. This was like depression, but different. Some people get depressed and find that they are unable to function. Rahsaan occasionally found that he had an idea in his head that would not go away. He felt as if he had no choice but to pursue the idea with the object of his enthusiasm. He hated the way his abilities seemed to be in some way or another, dictated more by his emotions, and less by his knowledge of the applications he dealt with on a regular basis. This time, it was a search engine. He had been up for a week thinking about some sort of search engine application. He was amazed at the fact that he was able to get a mock up working in only two days. The application would connect with websites, and download the page. After that, it could parse the HTML and pull out links and HTML tags. The thing that he was not able to get together was the purpose. What would be the purpose of the application? Was he going to try to out Google Yahoo? Would this play into his obsession with Artificial Intelligence? Without a purpose, all action was “Random Application Development”.
A couple with a purpose
Rahsaan and Debbie had similar desires. Both of them wanted to advance their ideals. Both of them wanted to build passive income. Neither of them had any idea how to pursue either passion. Rahsaan had often fancied himself as a writer. He considered Debbie to be a great thinker. He had often wondered about how the two of them could make something useful out of their wasted energies. They had been watching “Sex in the City” for about a month now, and to some extent, that was where his flavor for narration had come from. Earlier that night, the two of them had been in Barnes and Noble. He was thinking that the two of them could try listening to audiobooks together. Both of them had been into political books lately. He had also considered the possibility of the two of them learning a language together. He didn't really see where the PAC would come out of that effort. He had also considered the two of them putting forth a coordinated effort on selling her art. That was not a PAC action either. The question remained. What was to be done with all of the wasted energy.
The Tree Climber
It was early in April. Rahsaan arrived with a heavy plastic box in the back of his car. Debbie was busy painting. She stepped outside, giving him the “mother hairy eyeball” as he opened the hatch of his car. She took off her headphones as he pulled his skateboard out of his car and put it on the driveway. He lifted the box, and let it drop onto the deck with a sliding “whoomp”. He started to pull the box to the side of the driveway.
“Can you give me a hand?” he said with some effort in between grunts.
“Vaat Are you Dooing?” she replied, with a bad imitation of a Russian accent.
“I am going to build a tree thing” he replied.
She stepped forward, and ripped the top off of the RubberMaid box with a violent velocity. It hit him in the face. He fell back, cursing her. When she looked down, she saw what looked like a mass of clay-like shapes in various shapes and sizes. She put the headphones down, and started to help him. When they had moved the mass halfway across the yard, they came to a soft wet spot. There had been heavy, drizzling, precipitation that week, and the skateboard wheels simply could not support the weight.
“Are we going to the Sycamores?” she said.
“Yup” he grunted.
When they had reached the trees, she asked him what the plan was.
“I am going to drill these climbing posts into the tree.” he said, as if he were describing making a bed with clean sheets.
“If you climb that, you are going to fall and bust your fucking head.” she replied, as if he were describing how he was about to jump off of a building.
“You are going to get electrocuted using a battery operated drill in the rain!”, she said, yelling for effect.
He had heard her, but he didn't really like either of the possibilities, so he looked right at her, and pretended not to notice anything she had said. He pulled a drill out of the box, picked up a clay piece, and started drilling it into the tree. His cell phone was vibrating on his hip, and she could see that it was his mother calling. At that moment, she had decided that she would forgive him for the nights when he would go over to his friends place and get drunk playing HALO 3 until 3:00 AM. She had made that decision about the last time he had “guys night in”. He would have to earn the next the next occasion. He would not get it for free.
