I do not want to take a creative writing class ever again. I do not want eyes upon my work, I do not want your thoughts in my direction. I will stay in the cool embrace of technology and sweet lilting code, stay where the error codes are clear and the compiler is forgiving and no end bracket is forgotten.
I will stay where the only measures of a good day’s work are proper indents and a program that runs, where the issues are a stackoverflow answer away and no one needs see the flaws but me. Where the world is soothing and the hum of the fans and the RAM usage is all I need to know that my work can breathe.
I will not go to Fir where the words don’t come out right and every choice of syntax is essential to success. I will not go where none will run my programs and where my code is left bare and ignored in the cold. I will not be there when they ask for the soul of my prose without bothering to reach through its flesh.
When they ask, find me in Cedar listening to the hum of the cooling system and watching the processor usage spike as my code is compiled by something more forgiving.
When you find me there, see the soul of my work through my indents and brevity of variables and concise comments, and remark on nothing but the speed of my program and my smile.