09/03/09 E-Mail from: Mountain Software Writer//To fateanalysisguy@gmail
I still have the desire to explain mental processes in terms of software, I conceive or conjure up, a human neurological equivalent of code error and bug checking. Which is my real work job at this time. Part of problems connected to this day job carries over to my regular sessions of depth level free association. For example, my association to the old time radio equipment in my earlier dream, jumped to my childhood, when once I approached my father for $ 19.95 to buy a kit, which if I put it together correctly, I would then have mini radio transmitter.(I was 14 0r 15) and I was enthralled with the idea that for blocks around I could be a radio personality. Father said, 'no' without any hesitation. Disappointed, I asked, Why? You will be over your skill level to put it together and if you succeed, you will annoy the neighbors, and they may call the feds. Of course, he was right, but I still would like to have tried. The current work association is that the company I work for is expanding into new uses for wireless devises and already has a profitable line in that market. Their main fear is that some other company will market a device so advanced that it will make their products outmoded as to be a museum piece. I feel my dream was somehow was an attempt at balancing by past disappoints, my personal life and the company's fear driven pressure to be at the head of the technology development curve. I understand also their disappointment when I have to tell my boss to tell them some new device which already representing thousands of dollars in development costs, will take more than a software fix in order to be ready for production.
Filially after these ramblings, the phrase 'development costs' spreads out to my living costs schooling costs, the money and Ego costs racked up in my love life. And then the cost that arises, if one does not remove impediments to healthy participation in life. The neurotic code (getting back to my dumb view) causes, faulty judgment, repetitious compulsions, all of which undermine the goal of happiness.
A fragment of a dream
I am in an art gallery (much like one is actually visited in Connecticut a few years ago, at a time when they were greatly excited that they as a group were readying a web site by which their works could viewed by anyone, anywhere, with computer. I recall I felt a tang of guilt (in acting like my father) as I tried to lower their expectations.
One section of the gallery was straight forward realism, traditional portraits, landscapes and still life's but the other section was mixed media and experimental combinations of all kinds. Some were strangely fascinating but overall they looked ugly to me
An attractive young woman in a black dress, such as hostesses ware in high class restaurants, stood before a spotlighted sculpture and invited me to look at it; explaining its features. She pointed to each part and described the artistic and moral, and social implications, which the artist was trying to convey. As she did this with each section, what I had perceived as being sickening ugly, changed shape, color and brightness and I began to like it. (I think the woman was the same one, Bill Clinton walked away with in the "Radio Station" dream.
I still have the desire to explain mental processes in terms of software, I conceive or conjure up, a human neurological equivalent of code error and bug checking. Which is my real work job at this time. Part of problems connected to this day job carries over to my regular sessions of depth level free association. For example, my association to the old time radio equipment in my earlier dream, jumped to my childhood, when once I approached my father for $ 19.95 to buy a kit, which if I put it together correctly, I would then have mini radio transmitter.(I was 14 0r 15) and I was enthralled with the idea that for blocks around I could be a radio personality. Father said, 'no' without any hesitation. Disappointed, I asked, Why? You will be over your skill level to put it together and if you succeed, you will annoy the neighbors, and they may call the feds. Of course, he was right, but I still would like to have tried. The current work association is that the company I work for is expanding into new uses for wireless devises and already has a profitable line in that market. Their main fear is that some other company will market a device so advanced that it will make their products outmoded as to be a museum piece. I feel my dream was somehow was an attempt at balancing by past disappoints, my personal life and the company's fear driven pressure to be at the head of the technology development curve. I understand also their disappointment when I have to tell my boss to tell them some new device which already representing thousands of dollars in development costs, will take more than a software fix in order to be ready for production.
Filially after these ramblings, the phrase 'development costs' spreads out to my living costs schooling costs, the money and Ego costs racked up in my love life. And then the cost that arises, if one does not remove impediments to healthy participation in life. The neurotic code (getting back to my dumb view) causes, faulty judgment, repetitious compulsions, all of which undermine the goal of happiness.
A fragment of a dream
I am in an art gallery (much like one is actually visited in Connecticut a few years ago, at a time when they were greatly excited that they as a group were readying a web site by which their works could viewed by anyone, anywhere, with computer. I recall I felt a tang of guilt (in acting like my father) as I tried to lower their expectations.
One section of the gallery was straight forward realism, traditional portraits, landscapes and still life's but the other section was mixed media and experimental combinations of all kinds. Some were strangely fascinating but overall they looked ugly to me
An attractive young woman in a black dress, such as hostesses ware in high class restaurants, stood before a spotlighted sculpture and invited me to look at it; explaining its features. She pointed to each part and described the artistic and moral, and social implications, which the artist was trying to convey. As she did this with each section, what I had perceived as being sickening ugly, changed shape, color and brightness and I began to like it. (I think the woman was the same one, Bill Clinton walked away with in the "Radio Station" dream.
