Recording to me

Previously

…She sent a laughing emoji, then: "You're going to make a programmer of me yet." I laughed out loud, alone in my living room. Before bed, I opened my journal—the same one where I'd recorded my first syntax error, my first real friendship, my first taste of failure. I wrote: "Day after the first meetup. The code ran without crashing. Now we optimize for depth, not speed. The next iteration begins." As I turned off the light, I thought of Don Quixote, tilting at his windmills, chasing his impossible dream. But I wasn't chasing anymore. I was building. And that, I realized, was the truest form of idealism there is. The quest continued. But now, I had company.