Speaking as a functional programmer: The designers of object-oriented languages weren't *idiots*. They were developing new and expressive approaches to the task of encapsulating state behind the interface of functions. It does no one any good to pretend that there's no *use* for object-oriented programming.
Paul Graham has an *idée fixe* somewhere in the area of the Hacker as [solitary artist](http://www.paulgraham.com/hp.html), visionary, creative. I disbelieve anything PG says as a matter of principle. [Maciej](https://idlewords.com/2005/04/dabblers_and_blowhards.htm) is a more reliable source when it comes to painting. And yet. Surely there is a fundamental creativity when it comes to programming. I experience inspiration, certainly, and the lack of it. I experience a degree of creative fulfillment comparable to what I get when I compose music or poetry. I experience aesthetic pleasure when I write good code, and use an aesthetic, intuitive sense to guide me in the code I write. So, it's not a dead, mechanistic art. So let's start with something that's hard to dispute from Maciej: > So just like mechanical engineers and architects, computer > programmers create artifacts that have to stand up to an objective > reality. No one cares how pretty the code is if the program won't > work. Thinking of mechanical engineers---or civil, really: did Isambard Kingdom Brunel design bridges for fun? That is, can we reasonably assume that Brunel ever designed a bridge because he felt like it, because he wanted to feel the pleasure of creation? Almost certainly, yes. If I were Isambard I can only assume I'd be sketching bridges all day. So then: did Brunel ever *build* bridges for fun? Almost certainly not. A bridge is an expensive, rather large undertaking, that requires a lot of other people to make things or maneuver those things into place. And once they're their they tend to be relatively difficult to unmake. Maybe this points us in a smarter direction. Isambard Kingdom Brunel was, I must simply assume, an inherently, maybe even brilliantly, creative individual. The difference between programming and bridge-building---*one* difference between programming and bridge-building---is that the economics of programming allow for a practice of engineering as *pure* recreation and *pure* creation. The use of the artifact---how it exists in the world and the function it performs and maybe even the utility it grants others---is still fundamental. But this too can be realized from a purely creative perspective. When it comes to bridges, on the other hand, their nature is *also* inherently creative; it's just that the economics of them and the rather ineluctable nature of constructed things to take up space and impede the presence of *other* things prevents them in all but the most extreme conditions from being purely so.
The [instrumentative](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Instrumental_case): a useful, if currently unavailable, distinction. We say, constantly, that one is to *sit with* various afflictions and arisings. It's hard not to consider this in the inflection of [patience](https://www.etymonline.com/word/patience#etymonline_v_10152): to sit with, to bear with, to put up with. "With", in other words, making a choice for us. The original semantic sin of the Latins, compressing the instrumental into the ablative without our being consulted. Reconsider, then, the instrumental case, and sit *with* your various afflictions and sensations; make them the instrument of your sitting, just as surely as your body is.
This is a difficult phrase. The "just" feels like it's a process of continuously excluding. Cutting down anything that's not sitting as soon as it arises. Perhaps we can reorient this "just", into a "completely", or "whole-heartedly": That the act is to continuously *include* into sitting. That whatever arises, knead it into your sitting. As when you are chopping vegetables, and you dedicate your whole being to chopping vegetables: you include every part of yourself into it. Sit with your body and your mind; *with* in the instrumentative case. Whatever arises, sit with that, instrumentative, too.
To exist is to be ordinary. Only which doesn't exist isn't ordinary. And that, too, is ordinary.
> we talk about programming like it is about writing code, but the code ends up being less important than the architecture, and the architecture ends up being less important than social issues. Evan Martin, [The Success and Failure of Ninja](http://neugierig.org/software/blog/2020/05/ninja.html)
Before textual technologies, there was no text. Before computers and word processors dealt with fixed 1-dimensional arrays of characters, typewriters placed letters in a grid---but not a particularly fixed one--- anywhere on a page, and the letters intermingled with writing and white-out and whatever else you could stick on. Before typewriters imposed (or suggested) the grid, to write by hand was to suggest your own lines, to form letters as necessary and useful, to cross out, underline, squiggle. Before that, what? Figures? A little arithmetic, a little ritual signification? At a certain point there wasn't even the 2-dimensional plane.
Where are the Toulemondes of yesteryear?