And it's done. I've completely renovated my garden.

As expected, I hit the 90% Wall. Most projects seem to have a point near the end where I just don't want to put any more time into them. I don't know why, but it's frequent, and it seems to affect most creative projects. It's a major reason why books don't get finished, comics don't get published, and in general creative people don't finish their projects.

But this one's done. There's certainly more stuff I want to do in my garden, but I've done what I initially set out to do.

What it really takes, for me, is eliminating other distractions and focusing on one project only, until it's done. I may work on other projects, but this one gets priority, and I work on it every day until it's done.

And then, it's done.

Spent the better part of the day digging out the back garden and shifting soil around. I'm renovating the garden with painted planters and new plots of vegetables. It's spring, and it's time.

It's also a major undertaking. I had to move a truck load of dirt today, using large rubber buckets. One bucket at a time. I wasn't sure if I could do it all in one day.

But I did. And just doing it gave me sweet satisfcation that can't be otherwise tasted.

I'm enjoying Leo Strauss's History of Political Philosophy, even his flowery, complicated sentences. But even good things can be taken too far.

An example:

If a religion or divine law is not spurious, obscurantist, or fanatic, it does not promote but suppresses and transcends the ends pursued in ignorant regimes (including tyranny), and substitutes for them the end that can be pursued only through the belief in adequate or salutary similitudes of divine and natural beings, and through commands and prohibitions that promote virtue and happiness among a particular group ready for the message.

Saw the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie. It was perfect, in the mathematical sense of containing everything needed. There were things I didn't know I'd want to see in there until I saw it. They tossed in a reference to the opening credit sequence of the original cartoon, for Pete's sake. It proves that one can make a great homage that's also highly entertaining, a sadly unusual combination.

Just returned from a weekend with Saalon, and am reminded yet again of the power of physical human interaction. Not only do I feel closer to him, we were able to talk and discuss things so much more efficiently. He had some programming questions, and I could explain concepts with such ease when we stood six feet from each other.

Side note: There's now an Atom feed for this blog.

I've posted The VR Story to this site and Lulu.com, so you can read it for free online or buy a paperback for $10.

I'm proud of the VR story. It was a writing experiment that went 25,000 words out of hand. I wrote some lovely bits, just by chugging away every day.

Does McDonald's really need a memorable catchphrase at this point?

What else are they doing blindly, out of habit?

What am I doing blindly, out of habit?

Here's how I knew I'd be okay. When I went to work on Monday, the business manager told me that I didn't have to come in for the rest of my two weeks, that I could go on home. So I went to the old office to gather the rest of my possessions that hadn't been moved, drove home, and as I turned onto the street leading into my neigbhorhood, saw flashing lights behind me. A cop pulled me over. He jogged up and, in an upbeat tone, asked if my tags were really out of date. I said, "Yep, I'm afraid so." He asked for my license and registration and took them back to his truck. And I sat back in my truck and enjoyed the breeze blowing across my face.

Seriously. I enjoyed sitting there, next to a park, watching the trees shimmy in the breeze. I'd just left my job, all my work stuff was piled next to me in the truck, I'd been pulled over for a (probably expensive) ticket, and I was almost ready to whistle.

That's when I knew I'd be okay.

The Dragon Slayer has had an epiphany about online 'social networking' which I agree with wholeheartedly.

In the blink of an eye, things change. Blink again, they change back.

Though my job at Applied Tactics was interesting and brimmed with potential, after a long week of painful work I came to a series of conclusions. I realized that the work was too much for me. I don't want to be working more, unless it's for something I believe in strongly.

And so, after talking with my boss, I'll be leaving Applied Tactics a week from Friday. I've contacted my old boss at Rockwell about returning there, and I have a few other leads.

And so, onwards.

Computers are glittering distractions.

In the middle of this very rough week, I've discovered Wikiversity, an open learning project to which anyone can contribute. It's still an infant, which is part of what fascinates me. Potential nearly overflows its pages.

My favorite book is still Frank Herbert's Dune, a sprawling tale of politics, prophecy, knife fights, religion, ecology, and duty (among other things). I envy Herbert's consistency and fearlessness in telling such an ambitious story with such vivid, strong characters. Every character speaks in absolutes—rare in modern fiction.

After spending too long on Wikipedia, I stumbled on Wikiquote and its archive of Dune quotes. And I came across this:

Frank Herbert in Heretics of Dune:

When I was writing Dune there was no room in my mind for concerns about the book's success or failure. I was concerned only with the writing. Six years of research had preceded the day I sat down to put the story together, and the interweaving of the many plot layers I had planned required a degree of concentration I had never before experienced. It was to be a story exploring the myth of the Messiah. It was to produce another view of a human-occupied planet as an energy machine. It was to penetrate the interlocked workings of politics and economics. It was to be an examination of absolute prediction and its pitfalls. It was to have an awareness drug in it and tell what could happen through dependence on such a substance. Potable water was to be an analog for oil and for water itself, a substance whose supply diminishes each day. It was to be an ecological novel, then, with many overtones, as well as a story about people and their human concerns with human values, and I had to monitor each of these levels at every stage in the book. There wasn't room in my head to think about much else.

The sky was a vast blue comforter, and the air was the perfect temperature. Today felt like spring. How could I not spend the day outside?

Though I only spent a few minutes outside, it still felt wonderful. I did a bit of shopping this morning, had a fantastic lunch (tuna salad sandwich, a perfect pickle, and a tin roof sundae), then I walked to the new office to help paint. Yes, walked.

I have an amazingly good life. And it just keeps getting better.

And that up there is the end of The Walk Home, my comic. Final panel. You can buy a printed copy for $6 at Lulu.com. I bought one, and I'm proud of it. My first printed work.

It's a thrill to see your name in print, even when it's print-on-demand.

Written on one of my index cards as I sat at a Latino restaurant this past weekend:

What is excellence in waitering? Serving food well? No, anyone can bring plates to a table. Understanding customers' needs? Yes. People want to be served, their desires granted. Listen. What do your clients want?

The dragon winds of March gallop through the fields and down the streets. The houses creak and moan in fear, and the trees flutter their hands in mute protest.

I finally finished the last volume I own of Astro Boy, volume 15 (it goes up to at least 23, according to Amazon). Its creator, Osamu Tezuka, was a breathtaking writer. In one simple boy's action manga, he tackled bigotry, humanity, inhumanity, the nature of evil, and the nature of goodness.

Not that his works were perfect. The setups were often silly, the characters often one-dimensional. But he was drawing a boy's action manga. For what it was, it was impressive.

Last night at 10:30, I poured myself a small dish of expensive sake, sat out in my garden, and composed haiku as I watched clouds sail by the full moon.

I can't remember the haiku I wrote. Perhaps that is best.

Saw Amazing Grace last night, after a fantastic dinner of sushi and sake with Mandy.

It was a surprisingly nuanced film. Those in favor of the slave trade weren't all evil; in fact, all of them had positive sides. The film focused on the human rights abuses of the slave trade. All the characters were multifaceted and well-played. The film felt real.

There were a few tiny problems, but they were tiny. It was definitely well worth seeing. Even at 10:00 p.m.

I've been working with an artist, Dave White, on a new design for the Giant Armors from my novel. Here's what they look like:

It's been wonderful. He's a complete professional. Which mainly means:

• He gives me exact dates of when he expects to finish things.
• He get his work done by the appointed date, unless something truly unusual happens to stop him.
• He tells me when something unusual happens.

That's about all I expect from a professional, and he's fully complied, in contrast to other artists I've worked with. It's sad; professionalism isn't complicated. It just takes commitment.

And yesterday was another long day. Work plus my web design class. I definitely look forward to being used to that class, so I don't have to put as much energy into it.

Not that I want to skate through it. The first pass through a class is always the most difficult, especially when you haven't taught for a while. I'm re-learning how to teach, how slow to go (very slow), how to gauge the students' comprehension, and some of the material itself.

If I teach this course again, it'll be easier, and when I return home I won't be as exhausted.