Vim creep

https://rudism.com/vim-creep/
Забавная история (вымышленная, без какой-либо конкретики) про то, как
вначале человек услышал "Vim." и это изменило его жизнь. Конечно тут всё
сильно преувеличено. Хотя факт того, что даже у меня уже чуть ли не
каждая интерактивная программа имеет vi-like клавиши -- это правда.
Пользоваться Firefox без Pentadactyl стало невыносимо. Одна из причин
почему я перестал (когда ещё пользовался им) обновлять FF это то, что
этот плагин перестал бы работать, из-за регулярной смены API броузера.

В комментариях на тему Vim люди постоянно разбиваются на лагеря. Один
лагерь не понимает что в Vim такого клёвого и мощного, ведь вот в
Atom/Sublime/whatever можно сделать вот так то. А другой лагерь,
Vim-fan-ов, не может привести хорошие примеры где показать мощь Vim.
Atom/whatever любителей можно понять, ибо ресурсов, статей, сайтов
которые бы показывали тьму возможностей и финтов -- почти нет. 99% всего
что я видел по Vim это чуть ли не vimtutor. На этой работе я в Vim чего
только не вытворял с коллегами, но об этом даже в блоге не писал, ибо...
ну да, Vim, там можно круто проворачивать многие вещи -- всё это есть в
документации по сути. Нужно просто понять где и когда уместно применить
то или иное сочетание действий.

          ------------------------ >8 ------------------------

    It all started out innocently enough. You experimented with it once
    or twice in your first year of college, but Nano and Pico were
    easier—closer to what you had already been using during high school
    on the Windows machines and Macs. But as time went on and you got
    more experience under your belt in the college-level computer
    science courses, you started to notice something: All of the really
    great programmers—the kind who churned out 4 line solutions for an
    assignment that took you 10 pages of code to complete; the kind who
    produced ridiculously over-featured class projects in a day while
    you struggled with just the basics for weeks—none of them used Nano
    or Pico.

    Staying late one night to finish an assignment that was due at
    midnight, you happened to catch a glimpse over one of the quiet
    uber-programmer’s shoulders. Your eyes twinkled from the glow of
    rows upon rows of monitors in the darkened computer lab as you
    witnessed in awe the impossible patterns of code and text
    manipulation that flashed across the screen.

    "How did you do that?" you asked, incredulous.

    The pithy, monosyllabic answer uttered in response changed your life
    forever: "Vim."

    At first you were frustrated a lot, and far less productive. Your
    browser history was essentially a full index to the online Vim
    documentation; your Nano and Pico-using friends thought you were
    insane; your Emacs using friends begged you to change your mind; you
    paid actual money for a laminated copy of a Vim cheat sheet for easy
    reference. Even after weeks of training, you still kept reaching for
    your mouse out of habit, then stopped with the realization that
    you’ll have to hit the web yet again to learn the proper way to
    perform some mundane task that you never even had to think about
    before.

    But as time went on, you struggled less and less. You aren’t sure
    when it happened, but Vim stopped being a hindrance. Instead, it
    become something greater than you had anticipated. It wasn’t a mere
    text editor with keyboard shortcuts anymore—it had become an
    extension of your body. Nay, an extension of your very essence as a
    programmer.

    Editing source code alone now seemed an insufficient usage of Vim.
    You installed it on all of your machines at home and used it to
    write everything from emails to English papers. You installed a
    portable version along with a fine-tuned personalized .vimrc file
    onto a flash drive so that you could have Vim with you everywhere
    you went, keeping you company, comforting you, making you feel like
    you had a little piece of home in your pocket no matter where you
    were.

    Vim entered every part of your online life. Unhappy with the meager
    offerings of ViewSourceWith, you quickly graduated to Vimperator,
    and then again to Pentadactyl. You used to just surf the web. Now
    you are the web. When you decided to write an iPhone application,
    the first thing you did was change XCode’s default editor to MacVim.
    When you got a job working with .NET code, you immediately purchased
    a copy of ViEmu for Visual Studio (not satisfied with the offerings
    of its free cousin, VsVim).

    Late one night, as you slaved away over your keyboard at your
    cubicle, working diligently to complete a project that was due the
    next morning, you laughed to yourself because you knew no ordinary
    programmer could complete the task at hand before the deadline. You
    recorded macros, you moved entire blocks of code with the flick of a
    finger, you filled dozens of registers, and you rewrote and
    refactored entire components without even glancing at your mouse.
    That’s when you noticed the reflection in your monitor. A wide-eyed
    coworker looking over your shoulder. You paused briefly, to let him
    know that you were aware of his presence.

    "How did you do that?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

    You smile, and prepare to utter the single word that changed your
    life. The word that, should your colleague choose to pursue it, will
    lead him down the same rabbit hole to a universe filled with
    infinite combinations of infinite possibilities to produce a form of
    hyper-efficiency previously attainable only in his wildest of
    dreams. He reminds you of yourself, standing in that darkened
    computer lab all those years ago, and you feel a tinge of excitement
    for him as you form the word.

    "Vim."