It's probably pretty obvious, but I have a huge Peter Pan complex. I blame my parents for this (they made my song "Forever Young"—the Rod Stewart version, not the Jay-Z version—when I was young), but it probably stems from a lot of things. Regardless, I've always had a fascination with Peter Pan. My favourite portrayal so far has to be the 2003 version starring Jeremy Sumpter, but I got the chance to watch Hook the other day, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
While watching it, though, I started thinking about the untapped stories in Peter Pan. The story is magical because of the character that Peter holds. Peter embodies and is Neverland, and a lot can be done with that. Few films seem to accept or embrace that, which is why the 2003 version happens to be my favourite; it really plays with the idea and personality of Peter, while staying rather close to the original J.M. Barrie story.
Peter is embodied by his childishness—his refusal to grow up is what gives Neverland its timelessness. And in that inherent immaturity, we see the pros and cons of such an approach. Peter is tactless, to the point of hurting those around him out of ignorance, but enchanting, happy, and carefree. He is incapable of some of the stronger emotions, and exhibits a fleeting character that one may miss if they blink.
What then, is made of the crush that Tinkerbell clearly has on him? It is implied in every version I've seen that this is what fuels her betrayal of Wendy to Captain Hook, but the dynamics aren't really explored. And Tink, herself, is a wonderful font for exploration: a creature so tiny she can only hold a single emotion at any given point. Much a mirror of Peter's undeveloped emotional capacities, the dynamics between Tink and Peter hold a plethora of opportunities for stories. What would Tink say, should she have a chance to tell the story? What would Peter say, should he know of Tink's feelings for him? What would a relationship between Tink and Peter look like?
Perhaps I'll have to write some explorations into this realm that I love so, should I get the opportunity this semester. I would love to hear other people's thoughts on the matter, though.
August 18, 2010
August 2, 2010
I'm a Shakespeare of Software
I wear funny clothes and people will remember me for centuries to come.
OK, maybe not for those reasons. But still, I find the best comparison to my programming style is the great bard himself. Some of you may not know this, with all the programming stuff I do, but I'm actually an English/Adolescent Education dual-major. No, no Computer Science degree. Yes, I spend my time reading literature. Yes, I will be teaching your kids.
As any English major must, I've spent some time with the bard (or his work, at least). One of the most striking things, and one of the things discussed in classrooms ad-nauseum, is the bard's remarkable lack of originality. King Lear, for example, is little more than an amalgamation of three similar stories, told and retold throughout cultures and time periods. In essence, William Shakespeare was the Disney of his day. Which is not to say that the bard never created something; he simply grounded his creation in the creations of others, standing on the shoulders of giants.
Which is all well and good, but software has no cultural history. Does it? Well, yes and no. There are certain problems that are solved and re-solved almost continuously. things like user authentication. These solutions grow to be abstracted out, and suddenly we wind up with things like OAuth and OpenID. We wind up with open source platforms that can solve these problems. These platforms, I would argue, are the cultural history of the craft.
And I, like Shakespeare, simply weave them together.
android2cloud, one of the most successful pieces of software I've written, was built by simply tying together four of these platforms. I stood on the shoulders of Google and OAuth, and in a month I pumped out an application that is used by over 300 people. The amount of code I actually wrote for that project is laughably small. Minuscule. And that is how I do programming; weaving together what others have built, until it fits what I need it to do. With the amount of cultural history available in programming, there's very little I can't do.
My suspicion is there are a lot of Shakespeares running around right now, weaving software together into a sum that's bigger than its component parts. We all owe a debt to the creators around us, who pioneer the new technologies we stand on, but they owe us a debt as well, for making that technology more than they dreamed it could be.
OK, maybe not for those reasons. But still, I find the best comparison to my programming style is the great bard himself. Some of you may not know this, with all the programming stuff I do, but I'm actually an English/Adolescent Education dual-major. No, no Computer Science degree. Yes, I spend my time reading literature. Yes, I will be teaching your kids.
As any English major must, I've spent some time with the bard (or his work, at least). One of the most striking things, and one of the things discussed in classrooms ad-nauseum, is the bard's remarkable lack of originality. King Lear, for example, is little more than an amalgamation of three similar stories, told and retold throughout cultures and time periods. In essence, William Shakespeare was the Disney of his day. Which is not to say that the bard never created something; he simply grounded his creation in the creations of others, standing on the shoulders of giants.
Which is all well and good, but software has no cultural history. Does it? Well, yes and no. There are certain problems that are solved and re-solved almost continuously. things like user authentication. These solutions grow to be abstracted out, and suddenly we wind up with things like OAuth and OpenID. We wind up with open source platforms that can solve these problems. These platforms, I would argue, are the cultural history of the craft.
And I, like Shakespeare, simply weave them together.
android2cloud, one of the most successful pieces of software I've written, was built by simply tying together four of these platforms. I stood on the shoulders of Google and OAuth, and in a month I pumped out an application that is used by over 300 people. The amount of code I actually wrote for that project is laughably small. Minuscule. And that is how I do programming; weaving together what others have built, until it fits what I need it to do. With the amount of cultural history available in programming, there's very little I can't do.
My suspicion is there are a lot of Shakespeares running around right now, weaving software together into a sum that's bigger than its component parts. We all owe a debt to the creators around us, who pioneer the new technologies we stand on, but they owe us a debt as well, for making that technology more than they dreamed it could be.
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