Certified Fresh

A couple of years back I made a critical mistake. I was put onto a RHEL Certified Linux Administration course by work, who also paid for my exam on the final day. If I passed I would be able to put "RHEL 7 Certified" on my CV… Which wouldn't have had any measurable impact on my life, I expect, but it would have been cool.

Alas, I failed the exam. It was hard, closed book and all practical with a high pass mark. I did study, and paid attention during the course. I missed out by 2%. Nevertheless I was shook. I'd never failed an exam before. Never failed at any form of formal education, in fact, and typically without much effort or obeisance. I learned a statistic in University that 75% of people consider themselves above average intelligence. I knew for sure I was in that 75%.

My worldview shattered, I did not undertake any significant further training or exams. Partly from fear, and partly due to my organisation's shrinking training budget. Last year, when negotiating terms of my new position, I included work adding TOGAF training and certification into my personal development plan. Certification in The Open Group Architecture Framework for Enterprise Architecture would be a useful step towards my desired career direction of IT Architect. Architecture roles can have a similar level of working on solution requirements and technical design, without the distractors of resourcing, chasing timesheets, and approving the neverending requests for new monitor dongles. Architecture is a much more sustainable IT career for an introvert. Yes you need to talk to stakeholders, perhaps even more than as a lead, but they're structured conversations and in fact TOGAF offers a whole reference library for having them.

I did not fail my exam this morning, and I am officially TOGAF 9.2 Certified. My brain is now releasing endorphins after 10 days of heavy studying concludes. It was also warm today, and on my way home from the exam I stopped off to buy lettuce and found Deschutes Freshly Squeezed IPA directly imported from Oregon. What a good day. To top it off, I already have an architecture job. I've decided to promote myself to Bradism.com Lead Enterprise Architect.

A big can of PNW on a windowsill overlooking buildings.

A. Implementations of architectures.
B. Business Requirements
C. A View
D. All of the Above


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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.


Sunrise, Sunsets

image 1974 from bradism.com

The past week or two I've found myself tired and sleepy around 11pm, much earlier than I usually fall asleep. Perhaps it is these early nights, or maybe it's the post-equinox, 6am sunlight that has been waking me up prematurely too. I don't like these changes to my routine. Even my coffee - which I usually first take around 9 or 10 - I found myself preparing and drinking before morning stand ups.

Why was this happening to me, I pondered. Were these signs of getting old? Then I saw the calendar, and what was coming this weekend, and I realised it! My body was actually preparing me for a daylight savings entry.

Sorted

I sort my trash for recycling into plastic bottles, aluminium cans, brown glass, green glass, clear glass, soft plastics, coffee pods, mixed recycling, lids and bread ties, batteries, organic waste, and - if anything is left - it goes into garbage.
So I should be safe from climate change.


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Tendinopathyapathy

I've had the same injuries for so many years now that I think I'm beyond rehabilitation. My physios all have had good intentions, but I've realised my appointments are really just physiological psychotherapy: A chance to talk in private about how my muscles and joints are feeling, and leave with just enough optimism to get me through until the next fortnight's appointment.

Snapped

I timed it, and it takes sixteen minutes to get through all my morning stretches. That doesn't seem like much, but it's a decent chunk of seconds when I'm trying to wake up, shower, drink two litres of icy smoothie, walk a dog and still be out the door by 7:42. Unfortunately, if I don't stretch, getting through the day becomes immesuarably more painful.

I also stretch and rehab every night, which only makes it more annoying; It takes sixteen minutes of morning stretches just to recover from sleeping in a bed.

Unseasonal

Spring used to be my favourite season. Blooming flowers were the tonic for grey, winter skies, and some mornings in the sunshine my endocrine system would leave me feeling no more sophisticated a creature than the bees that buzzed about the swollen stamens around me.

image 1975 from bradism.com

I've been around the sun enough times now to recognise spring for what it really is: A blind, reckless orgy. And it sickens me. On a dry continent, in an era where we must be frugal with resources, this exhibition is mostly a brief and wasteful burst of Instagram-esque vibrance which doesn't represent reality. Literally days later the seeds are swaying in the breeze, the petals are rotted and falling, and the desiccated creepers are flopped and curled across the footpath in perfect postures of post-climatic clarity. Fuck Spring. Those weeks of blossom and sweet fragrances weren't worth the coming summer of prickles in socks, the withered, brown vines, or the extreme fire danger. Spring is nothing but a microcosm of life, a brief vignette of hormones followed quickly by decay. I don't need to see that every October.

Yes my favourite jasmine plant is dying, and no I'm not happy about it.

My First Baby Shower

I didn't know what to expect at the first baby shower I've ever attended, but it wasn't spending fifteen minutes trying to get a football down from a tree.

image 1976 from bradism.com

Eventually it popped out.

Rolling

Tonight was the first truly warm night of the season. I celebrated the occasion by increasing the bass by one notch on the car stereo equaliser now that I can drive with the window down where it doesn't rattle. I've been feeling old lately, but cruising through the suburbs in my Czech Station Wagon, music pumping as I stick to the 40km speed limit made me feel alive and cool, especially with my new office gaming chair in the back, and the tax invoice in my wallet.

The Doorbell

I took my cat Trick or Treating.

image 1978 from bradism.com