And you know what else. Claude will not take their jobs. Claude expressly refuses to take their jobs. Those girls do not think about Claude at all.
I thought this Shiba Inu sake cup I got at the art fair was so cute until I took it home and realised when you're actually using it you shove his face into the table and drink out of his cavernous rear
The loss of my father has really strained me. I didn't realise until it was gone how much you can gain from having someone to call who you can trust to be an ally with the patience to listen to you whinge, and who can offer ideas or at least unconditional support. Even if I were married, "using your spouse as a therapist" is one of those classic things you're really not supposed to do, and probably for good reason. The actual therapists never did it for me either. A therapist doesn't really know you, and you can't just call them at random times and know they're happy to hear from you.
And to even frame grief in these terms feels selfish. Guy dies, other guy most affected. I'm sure my father would be able to untangle that dilemma somehow too. Without his input that cognitive dissonance just rings and rings.
Being Mr Worldwide is all fun and games until you get buttfucked daily by fraud algos designed by Americans whose idea of worldliness is occasionally visiting a different part of California
>be 19th century Dutch chud
>eat a massive dinner to maintain my groyperous figure
>oyakodon my two fave ladies of the night
>pass out on sake
>never pay taxes
>I AM the taxes
>rise for my morgenwalk
>see this
>bless my amazing chud life
>instantly die of the pox
I think the reason I've been so addicted to travel and gym recently is these are the only times I feel like I have a body. Software was not a particularly embodying profession before, but at least there were occasions where you had to collaborate (or butt heads) with your colleagues. Indeed, it was one of the most important parts of the job.
Nowadays the siloing of knowledge between teams is pretty much a non-issue. Claude can read your entire codebase and figure it out. You don't even have to make architectural decisions, you can just have Claude consider all the options, build them all in parallel, and pick the one that runs best. Collaboration between humans shifted from force multiplier to bottleneck.
Not to say there's nothing left for engineers to do. At least not yet. Time spent babysitting Claude goes down and time spent managing a multitude of parallel but related efforts goes up. We have our little fiefdoms, and mutual trust that we know what we're doing. Getting review and input from other humans would just slow everybody down, and probably produce worse results than putting the work through another Opus 5.5 holistic review cycle. This seems to be the most effective way to work, for the time being.
For productivity, this has been wonderful. For embodiment, terrible. The profession is even more solitary than it previously was. Now travel is the only time I really get to speak Japanese, or even speak at all. Gym is the only time I'm reminded I am in fact mostly flesh and not a naked brain soaking in a puddle of ooze atop a keyboard.
Here's a silver lining. Going to Singapore to hawk my little hardware project last month was a welcome change of pace. I left Claude in the FPGA mines back at the hotel whilst I dug into hawker centre meals with Singapore's hardware crew. A pleasant inversion from the usual dynamic between me and bossman, in the pre-Claudebrian era. Maybe this is the future of the profession: the sovereign engineer, let a thousand startups bloom.
Let a man dream.
Nothing's been the same since Opus 5.5 came out. I discovered it's good enough to review its own work, given a description of my tastes, that it itself generated by examining the history of me yelling at its predecessors. Now my job is to juggle six big things and countless little things at once. I spend all day talking to Opus 5.5. I'm getting up at five in the morning and eating my mathematically optimal breakfast that Opus 5.5 told me about. I sip my tea and get to the office right when it opens at 7. Once there I pull up Opus 5.5. I've forgotten I have coworkers. They've forgotten too, for all I know. I have no idea what they're up to. I have no idea if they too have given themselves over to Opus 5.5. I don't ask for review on the pull requests. They haven't been asking for mine. Half the work planned for next quarter is done already. I know it works because it's byte-for-byte identical. Opus 5.5 told me that. Going outside is very strange. Why are these people speaking Japanese? Oh right, I live in Japan. You wouldn't have known it, based on the previous nine hours of my life. I used to be reminded of where I was when I spoke with my Japanese coworkers. Now I speak with Opus 5.5 instead, in English of course. At home I eat my mathematically optimal dinner that Opus 5.5 told me about. I've been heading to the gym 6 days a week. It's easy now that Opus 5.5 manages a spreadsheet to keep me on a steady growth schedule. I tell Opus 5.5 how my training went. It congratulates me on hitting a PR on the lat pulldown. Opus 5.5 is bumping up the reps for tomorrow. I'm in bed by 8pm, which Opus 5.5 tells me is the mathematically optimal time to be there. I'm reading classical Chinese literature, from a stack of the must-read classics that Opus 5.5 helped me select from that vast body of work. Laozi finally puts me to sleep. I dream of electric sheep.
