So last night I’ve had the third recurrance of a dream involving the same person that I know confessing to me. These dreamtime romantic ventures are encouraging and disheartening at the same time: encouraging because it’s something that “could have happened”, and it’s something of a good experience on its own; disheartening because you know it’s not going to happen in real life, ever. Perhaps after admitting my obsession is over, the leftover frustration vented in the form of dreams. I would stay dreaming a while longer, if other things around my life isn’t so bad.
This is not the first time I complain about my game project class, but I’ll complain again because it’s a vicious cycle that I can’t get out of. So this is a 3 people project. For the last two weeks, the only significant code that gets written are done by me. Whatever else that comes out of my teammates are done out of my constant coaching, in the form of “you go and type this and this and this and hit compile”, as if I have no fingers and they’re just doing the typing. It’s pissing me off. We’re all seniors, you’d think that if someone survives ICS 21/22/23 they’d at least know how to write some basic file I/O code or use a game library [I wrote] to do some simple operations. No dice. Everytime I tell them to do something they’ll say “okay, I’ll do it” or “I’ll get it done in 2 days” and then I’d check back later and they either do NOTHING or put some sloppy half-code together and ask me to do the rest.
Not to be racist here, but do you know the old analogy about how Asians always get their math homework copied by other folks in the class? I feel exactly like that right now – I’m the guy doing all the homework and they’re just copying it off from me, and if I complain they have the right to say I don’t “manage them well enough”, so it’s as if I’m the one doing something wrong here. I wouldn’t be this super-pissed off if I give a rat’s ass about the class like all the other ones I’ve been taking since the first day in Kindergarden – as I’ve said, game writing is my LIFE and anything related to it is worth my blood and soul. So it means I’d rather drag two dead corpses with me than to drop them and say “fuck this” and run off. But the weight is killing me. And it sucks.