Licensing

I'm having a rough time with a software upgrade. It's not rough in the sense that I have a learning curve ahead of me (I do) or that the software didn't install properly (it did). I'm having a rough time because there's emotional baggage on this one I can't seem to ditch.

A little history:

When I first bought this program it was going to completely change the way I do one of my hobbies. I can't describe it more clearly than that because it would be a dead givaway what software I'm talking about and what my hobby is. I'm unwilling to do either. I like the people who write and sell the software, and have never had better end-user support than I've had on this. Nonetheless I've had a rough time with it.

The software was distributed as a demo that you then unlock with a license key. That way if you decide you don't want the software you can tell the distributor before your key is mailed out, and you get your money back with no questions asked. It's a neat system. However, I was not made aware of this when I bought the software.

The learning curve was tremendously steep, and it took me a month to get to a point where I felt even remotely comfortable with it. During this time my life was falling to pieces. In a very real sense my hobbies were the one strand of sanity I had left to cling to. I loved my job, but the people there hated me. I loved my family but there were times when I knew no one wanted me at home. I came to hate myself and question whether I had any redeeming qualities. That I had a hobby where I created things made me hope that at least that was worth something.

So the day came that I tried to use the software to really do something, to really create something. It said my demo license had expired, and it locked up. This was a Saturday. I could do nothing. So I quietly left the room where everyone was expectantly waiting for me to do something, walked to my bedroom, and tried to strangle myself. I failed.

It sounds trite, but please understand this was my last strand of self-belief: that I could create. When the software locked up it was as if someone had snipped the strand and said, "No. No you can't." I couldn't even kill myself properly. There was nothing redeeming left at all. Nothing.

It wasn't until Wednesday the next week that I got my license key. By then I barely had re-kindled an interest in living. I certainly had no interest in my hobbies any more. I died that day. My body just kept breathing.

Years passed, situations changed, and again I became interested in life. By degrees I became interested in my hobbies again. I upgraded my software, but still there were oddities with the licensing. Terrified I would do something rash or collapse into despair again, I stayed in very careful contact with the distributor until the licensing was solved and I was up and running.

A few weeks ago I did a major upgrade on the software. My license key showed up at the last minute. I installed it before the demo timed out, but for some reason the license didn't take. I could feel the walls collapsing again. I posted on a support forum and was told in no uncertain terms that to post licensing questions to the support forum was a violation.

How can you tell people at a software company how much of a toll these things take from you? How can you explain so they don't think you're stark raving mad? For that matter, how do you convince yourself that you're not? I've tried to put a good face on things, but already I feel myself sinking. It took me three years to begin to believe I could create again. And again a voice is saying, "No. No, you can't."

I'm hoping there's a happy post-script to this. The same person I dealt with last time emailed me and told me she knew what the problem was, and that she could fix it. I truly hope so. I'm in tatters at the moment.

The Appearance of Normal

Among other things I have Tourette Syndrome and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. These often go hand-in-hand, and are a far more common combination than one might at first think. I can't say that these define who I am any more than being left-handed does. But they do play a role in who I am and what I do.

Unfortunately not everyone can look past this and see the person underneath. This is one of the reasons why I supress my tics when I'm in public, and why I try to hide the compulsions that sometimes rule what I do.

Please don't be fooled into thinking that because I can supress them that I can turn them off or make them stop. I can't. I can, for a time, keep them from happening. But it is like trying to hold back the water in a dam. The more you hold it back, the higher the water rises and the higher the pressure. When the dam finally bursts, it can be a flood far worse than anything the river might have been able to produce on its own. And so it is with tics. I can supress for a time, but then they come back worse than ever.

Some people I know I don't have to supress around, some I know I do. It can be difficult when I am in mixed company, so to speak, or when I have to spend a great deal of time around people who would not understand. It makes it even worse when there literally is no way to escape being under judging eyes.

After a time it becomes impossible for me to produce the appearance of normality and the tics flood forth. Every time this happens I fear what will come of it.

The place where I work has two work sites. One is close to where everyone lives and the other is remote. The only way to get to the remote work site is to drive in a company vehicle with everyone else who's on shift that day. The remote site is in a very harsh environment that takes a toll on everyone who works there. People get nauseous, exhausted, dehydrated, etc. For me this is compounded by the tics. It interferes with my ability to suppress them, and uses up energy far faster than I would at the other work site. The result is that by the end of the day I'm a ticcing wreck.

Enough people have odd enough behavior at the remote site that almost no one bats an eye at this. Almost. One of my co workers refused to allow me to drive at the end of the day because they said I was loco. Not entirely true. I'm not crazy, just neurologically different. And truth be told I'm a better driver than they are even when I'm wracked by full body tics. (Case in point: Never ever slam on the brakes halfway through a downhill hairpin turn. This is guranteed to lose you control over the vehicle. My co worker has yet to learn this.)

It's exhausting trying to appear normal, even when it's important to do so. I wish I lived in a world where people could just accept the things around them without passing judgement. I know I never will because homo sapiens is a judging species. But one can hope.

Lazy-Ass People

I occasionally collaborate on design and fabrication projects with people in Europe. Much of the time this involves recycling parts we already have on-hand or interfacing to existing systems. Getting the job done can mean working in imperial units, metric units, and using a variety of different standards. We all bitch about it to some extent, but the Europeans seem to bitch more loudly than most.

The one that really gets me is the threaded fasteners. Invariably we wind up using a mix of metric and SAE (imperial) screws, nuts, and bolts. Invariably the cry goes up: "But we can't get that here!" Bullshit.

If I can get SAE screws, metric screws, BA screws (British) and Whitworth screws (also British) for crying out loud, they can certainly get off their asses, open a catalog, and order the damn things. Most suppliers ship internationally these days. Finding SAE screws in Europe isn't half as impossible as they make out.

What irritates me the most about this is that it's unit bigotry. The design work I do is pretty evenly split between inches and millimeters. Conversion is not that hard, folks. In both cases I work in decimal units rather than in fractions. It just makes more sense. But every time I work with someone who only uses the metric system, the first thing out of their mouths is, "Fractions are stupid." No kidding. Doesn't mean inch-based drawings are, too.

But the fasteners are the kicker. This is very much like someone who's only worked with involute gearing insisting that they can't work with cycloidal gears.

As a quick aside, involute gearing is typically used when a higher speed shaft is driving a slower shaft or a shaft moving at a comparable speed. It's used for power transmission. Cycloidal gearing is used when a very low speed shaft is driving a much faster shaft. It's used for the very slow release of stored energy. Examples of each are an automotive transmission (involute) and a clock (cycloidal).

Even the arguments sound the same: "I can't get that here!" Yes you can, just order it from a catalog. "But I can't get the right kind of cutter!" Yes you can. P.P. Thornton & Sons in England makes cycloidal gear cutters and sells them in sets. "But they use module and not diametral pitch! I can't do that!" There's a conversion to go from DP to module and back. Use it. "It's just too HAAAAARD!" Then what the hell are you building a clock for?!

I find I'm growing increasingly impatient with this sort of thing as time goes on. If you're too lazy to be able to work in more than one system of measurement, maybe collaborating on international projects isn't such a good idea.

Proper Introductions

To begin with, I very much doubt anyone will ever actually read this. I am not advertising its existence to anyone I know. If you find yourself here, you came here by chance. Because of this I make no gurantees that you will like what you find.

Be forewarned, you will be offended by what I write. Sooner or later I have that effect on everyone. If you do not like what you are reading, stop reading it. I didn't make you come here. I won't make you stay. If you choose to continue reading things that are offensive to you, do not blame me for the rotten mood you may find yourself in later in the day. Remember, I warned you.

On to the introductions:

I am me. You are not. Be comforted. I certainly am.

In these pages there will be days when I am happy and days when I am angry. There will be times when I am on cloud nine and times when I am buried in the burning hole of depression. Sometimes I hope to be insightful. I know there will be times when I am banal. You get to see it all.

I am older than 13 years old. Therefore there will be content here unsuitable for people 13 or under. I am older than 15 years old, and the same holds true. I am older than 18 years old. There will be content here unsuitable for or unfamiliar with anyone who is still in high school. (If you're older than 18 and can't take someone saying a "bad word" or writing material of an adult nature, give up reading now. You can hardly buy a novel or a magazine that doesn't fall into this category.)

Aside from that my most telling features are that I'm a carbon-based bipedal humanoid life form. Certain to make me stand out in a crowd.

Introductions Can Wait

Beginnings are such fragile things, but I can already see this one is a botched effort. Alas. I'll keep it short enough that a reader might look past my failings here and move on to what I hope will be better written in the future.