Anyone who has been around more than a few months in the field of IT knows that things change.  Fast.  You are hard-pressed to get comfortable with something before it has been replaced, revamped or revisited.  It’s the nature of the business.  Technology evolves.  The developers of IT solutions are some of the very best artists.  They create technological artwork that is both beautiful and fascinating.  If it were a food we’d say it tastes great, too!  IT developers are also the worst artists.  An artist knows when a work is complete.  They can walk away with the knowledge that they have created something wonderful.  IT is full of the artists who can’t walk away, who can’t say, “I’m done.”  They think they’re finished and then one night they have an idea on how to make something a little bit better.  The process never ends.  Their art inspires others whose own artwork begins the process anew.  It’s a powerful cycle.  It is the engine of technology.  The engine, however, is on a downward slope.  Not in a bad way, though.  The downward slope I’m referring to is one that allows for the gain of tremendous momentum.
As the years go by I continue to be humbled by the pace of change.  Humbled and bothered.  Bothered and overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed and frustrated.  Frustrated and invigorated.  It’s not just the users (in the traditional sense of the word) that have to absorb all of this perpetual tinkering.  It’s the network engineers, administrators and other IT professionals, too.  Eight years ago we struggled to keep up with all of the new security exploits.  Today, we fight more to keep up with the technology.
Will there ever come a time that the technology I just finished deploying isn’t on its way to obsolescence?  In a word, “no”.  How then, do I stay relevant when I can barely hang with the pace of change?  Sadly, I don’t know for sure.  There are some things, however, that I do know.  I know you have to fight for it.  I know you can’t sit on your past accomplishments.  I know you have to love this and I know you have to constantly learn.  At some point I think we’ll all get tired.  When that time comes I think you have to let go.  Let go into retirement or into another line of work.  I have images of the little boy in the barn full of manure digging with gusto and zeal into the pile of dung.  He is so optimistic that there is a pony in there somewhere.  When the day comes that you walk into the barn and see nothing put a pile of shit and another new model of pitch fork with which to shovel it you know your relevance is gone.  It’s time to go.
Me?  I’m still looking for that pony!  But there’s a weird smell in the room…

Colin Weaver