Get with the program

Contrary to what my previous post might let on, I am not in fact spending this absurd amount of free time not making. I am learning… Android development! With a little nudge from a friend (from a musical theater writing workshop I’m in, of all places), I picked up Big Nerd Ranch’s beginner-friendly Kotlin Programming in early March, which introduces basic programming principles with the shiny, very modern Kotlin language. I spent a few weeks with it before moving on to the same publisher’s Android Programming, which covers more advanced techniques specific to the Android framework. Two months into the whole enterprise, I’m two thirds of the way through the second book, inching my way out of a particularly difficult chapter about HTTP and background tasks. I have a few simple apps built with the same book’s guidance, and one entirely from scratch as a personal project (a scoreboard), which I released to the Google Play Store yesterday for publication. Do I have any clue what I’m doing? No. But I’m enjoying myself.

It’s a tired old cliché to dream of quitting a steady, well-paying job to pursue a true “passion,” usually something artistic in nature. Not me. I have been dreaming, on and off, for years about making a career change to something far away from music as possible. I don’t know how to explain this fully and well. Obviously, I am not 22 anymore; I want to actually get paid for working; I want to be able to support a family of my own in the not-too-distant future. But, you ask, if I had all the material success in the world as a composer, if all that time and effort had actually paid off, would I still be feeling the mysterious tug toward something else? It’s easy to get comfortable in success (so I’ve heard—I wouldn’t know!), but alas, that has not been my lot. My perennial lack of happiness in the music profession, supposedly my area of “talent,” is just my cross to bear—and at this time, the profession is all but nonexistent. Is tech the answer? I don’t know. But it’s dangling in front of my face like a fat carrot, my calendar is empty, and I’m going all in.

There are some surprising (or not that surprising?) parallels between composition and programming. In my opinion, it makes complete sense as a path for a trained composer. Both satisfy the same impulse to build; both involve organizing basic elements into something logical, harmonious, and bigger than the sum of its parts; both are easy to romanticize. But programming is undoubtedly more objective: code works or it doesn’t; music doesn’t unless it does. You can write bad music and be far more popular than someone who writes good music. Can you write bad code and still be successful? I guess I’ll find out for myself.


I’m feeling light as a feather as I look through the few photos I have from Pascha (Orthodox Easter) last year at my spiritual home in New York, the Orthodox Cathedral of the Holy Virgin Protection. I had been received as a catechumen only a few weeks earlier, and was anxious to finally experience the great Feast of Feasts as these strange Orthodox people celebrate it. The service began with the Midnight Office late at night on Holy Saturday, followed by a procession, the hours, the Divine Liturgy, and endless chanting and shouting of “Christ is risen! Χριστὸς ἀνέστη! Христос воскресe!” well into the wee hours of Sunday, in the midst of a drunken and oblivious East Village. I left, sleepless but joyful like I’d never been, with a painted egg in my coat pocket and a candle that I ended up not lighting.

At the time, even as I prepared to be received into communion with the Orthodox Church (that happened finally on the Eve of the Nativity), my future in America was already uncertain for various reasons. When the time came to leave in late February—whether for good, I was still unsure—I lit that same candle in front of an icon of the Trinity and prayed that I would be back, if only temporarily, at my beloved home cathedral for Pascha. Thanks to the coronavirus, that was not going to happen, and nobody else was going to get to go either.

Of course, Pascha this year comes with many blessings as well (if you’re willing to look), despite the unusual circumstances, and maybe by next year I will get to look with some fondness at these photos I have now of my icon corner at home and the divine services through a computer screen; but right now, for my purposes here, they are just not that exciting. The sight of a gathered church gives me something to look forward to with great hope in these uncertain times.

In the beginning was the…

Hello, world! Again and again, I’m forced to contend with these mysterious urges to write a blog, despite many false starts over the years. The last time I managed to keep any momentum going was as a confidently aspiring somebody of a college kid; back then I had many opinions about everything I came across. A decade or so later, after many adventures around the world, here I am once again at the house I grew up in—no career, no money (almost), everything on hold thanks to the coronavirus, and with not really much to say anymore. Will I discover otherwise? Will this latest attempt at blogging finally be a success? Will there never be another post after this? Only one way to find out…!