March 23rd, 2016
It’s probably not surprising when I tell you that the current version of my website was not my first attempt--not by a long shot. Funny in an oh-gawd-what-was-I-thinking kind of way--due to wanting my website looking good and online ASAP for various reasons, I’d explored pre-set Jekyll Bootstrap style templates as a shortcut. (Just so you know, there’s a little corner of my mind giggling in hindsight at the naivety with which I approached this endeavor. I had NO idea what was coming...)
I played with a slightly different Twitter Jekyll Bootstrap theme than the one that’d been default for the website class I took. It had an aesthetic that appealed to me more...until I realized it wasn’t responsive (which would clash heads with the primary objective: get this thing out the door NOW!)
I put substantial effort into modifying another template that appeared responsive out of the box, only to discover that in the latest version of Firefox for Mac the website would just slide off-screen to the right with a certain navigation motion. I spent a day trying to fix it before I changed course, and just modified the vanilla theme that my site’s based on now. I published after making all the little cosmetic and formatting changes I could: everything from the menu bar colors to the way my blog posts and projects appear in lists.
As much as I like how it turned out, I wouldn’t describe the experience as one of having been in control of the situation. Hardly. It was a hugely reactive process consisting of experimentation, frantic Googling, and hacky code (some of which I already know is hacky, and some of which I expect to look at later on and say “Self, what were you thinking?” whilst penciling in hours of “REFACTOR” on my calendar.) There was plenty that looked so different in my head vs. what’s actually online at the moment.
It was like being the passenger of a car instead of its driver. And you know what? That’s okay.
For context, me saying that is a Big Deal. I am a self-professed perfectionist who used to proofread legally binding agreements for a living. I can tell without non-printing characters shown that a Word document has too many spaces between sentences. It drives me bonkers when formatting’s not consistent ($1K or $1,000.00, please.) And messy headings that break Table of Contents references?
(Photo http://i.imgur.com)
So why the sudden willingness to cast aside utopia-in-a-file ideals to get this website out the door? I suspect sheer exhaustion made a HUGE difference in my perspective, to be completely honest.
Because last week I worked on coding something relatively not stretching or tiring (but also important to me), and the old perfectionistic instincts came back with the intensity of a thousand neglected cats needing FOOOOOOD!!!!!!! and attention, stat.
I'd thought I accounted for many things in that program, and was completely the driver throughout the whole situation. I could visualize what I wanted to see and have it happen, which can easily seem like the end goal for programming. And that probably has a time and a place, such as in a professional software developer setting with client specifications to meet.
But as a code newbie? That program lacked ingenuity and creativity. It lacked challenge. It lacked learning.
On the other hand, while making the styling for this website I was near-constantly having to play around and/or search to get to (or approximate) what was in my head. I sometimes had to abandon an idea in favor of something I could actually make work, or go with something that seemed sub-optimal. All of these might sound like drawbacks, but I think they were actually strengths--I've learned so much more when I stretching myself like that compared to when I've played it safe!
I think one has proficiency with a given coding concept or language when they're almost always in the driver seat when using it. Which isn't to say no mistakes are made, but that the majority of the time the coder (and their team if applicable) are in control of how the codebase is used.
Sort of like how I am quite confident in my ability to calmly and non-traumatically trim my cat's nails after fairly consistent practice over the last decade. But giving my cat a pill? (A blessedly rare occurrence as she's wised up to the pill pocket treat ruse.) All holy hell breaks loose. It is a fustercluck; my neighbors must think I'm murdering her. I fear for my fingers once I try to pry open her mouth, and if I get out of the experience without bloodshed it's a banner day.
I'd probably become proficient with pills if she needed them on the regular, and it would be a better outcome for everyone's sake in that situation.
But as a code newbie it's my standard MO to learn, explore and hack my way through stuff until things click for me. And I'm beginning to think this isn't a state that I need to "graduate from" or "grow out of" in the future. Rather, it's something I want to embrace even when I'm more experienced because of the benefits of innovation it provides. I'll want to set up situations where I'm bending to the code's will (and not the other way around), just to keep up new creativity and learning in my coding skill set.
So I'd argue that new learners like me should celebrate this time in our journeys, be proud of how we're doing things, have confidence that our experiences have value too, and not cast this way aside as quickly as possible (like my inner critic might emphatically yell state.)
I believe it's important to hold onto this way of coding later, even when I'll be expected (and expect myself) to drive the car much more often. Maybe it's through personal projects exploring new languages, or checking out things we might not have expertise in. (I just got to play around with a 3D laser printer the other night--who knows what cool tech will exist in even just a few years that will be novel to try!) Maybe it's partnering with someone in an area to learn from, and not allowing ego to prevent that opportunity.
After all, there's a whole lot that can be seen only from the passenger side window.