Maybe I’ll Another Glot?

I’ve been getting that itch again. The itch to write bullshit that I likely will never read nor remember in this abandoned, ridiculous edifice to my past self. Something about remembering my life during the course of actually living it — something about caring what I think — something about caring what other people think.

An altogether forgettable day, today. Woke up from dreams remembered but unwritten. ((Running past a train in the snow.)) None of them clearly evoked waking life. Spent time working blissfully in a free reaction-diffusion program, Ready. Thought mostly about how I wanted to redesign my blog — a blog I hardly write in, and which I have no qualms about calling a damn blog now (see how much I’ve matured?). Made a proof-of-concept using CSS masking.

For the past few weeks I’ve been feeling like I want to write in here again. It’s strange, though… I don’t want to write for anyone but myself. I like the idea of keeping dreams and diary entries. I want to have the LiveJournal that I never had when I was 18, when having a LiveJournal was a thing. As is my usual pattern, instead of actually writing anything, I manage to obsess over the design of the bloody site until I’m practically sick of the idea. All I really want is a space I myself find beautiful. I want a place to leave the thoughts I don’t want anymore. I want to be able to look back at something I like. My current spate of design ideas are perhaps best conveyed by this dinosaur’s camouflage:

This blog feels old. Lots of people’s blogs do… and I should know since I just went for a snoop around. The era when the personal blog was relevant is gone. My tech-savvy friends’ blogs are left as a testament to the brief period of history where we myopically perceived it important to maintain our own websites. Silly, in retrospect. It was only a matter of time before mass-solutions like Facebook and LinkedIn evolved to decisively address the problem of digital identity.

To you reading this, don’t take it too seriously. This is me cursing out my diary, for goodnessakes. It’s something I do from time to time. I just wanted to edify something, to perma-cast the feels I grok at this moment’s happening. That is to say, this is just to say. Just word-talks.

Bloody Racists

Damn racists at the blood donation clinic. Discriminating just cause I “turned three shades too white.”

I ain’t ready yet, apparently. I tried, I tried… As soon as they thought I started fainting the deal was off. But, see, that’s the whole point. It is my wholehearted desire to conquer one of my last two irrational fears: needles. I can handle pain. Apparently I can’t handle a rather small needle poking my digit-flesh. And the language of the forms. Oh God, the forms. They gave me extra water and pretzels and sent me packing. Another day, crossed-fingers.

Maybe I’ll go find a clown and scare him. Gotta conquer something.

Moving-its a Process

I’m in San Francisco right now. I’ve been moving to San Fran since last Sunday the 17th. I’ve walked the entire length and breadth of the city, or at least it feels that way. I’ve applied to more jobs than I care to count. I haven’t been laughed at for it. Yet. And although I don’t technically have a job right now, I really am hoping I do. So I’ve started looking around for a place. I started with the internet, and writing out things like this:

About me:
I like things that I find. This has been most apparent in the past, when I lived at CSU Monterey Bay on the old Fort Ord. My rooms were decorated with army lamps, lost art, and all manner of discarded artifacts. They’re never scrapheaps; they’re galleries, with nice lighting and curtains. I like bringing guests into my spaces and so I take care of them.

For those wanting the jist: I’m clean, I have taste (and a decent hobby), and I’m cool enough I don’t make it a big deal.

To be fair I’ll offer some negs, too: I spend too much time on the computer (in the past, anyways). I sometimes get neurotic when things are out of place. I thought I was messy until I had roommates in college, and then I was the clean one with the cool room. I dislike television. I love meat pastries, so vegetarians/vegans have hereby been warned. And I won’t remember anything you tell me upon just waking up.
-from my Roomster.net profile

I’ve written many emails, received none. Am I being too eager? Too honest? Too smarmy? Quite possibly. But Imma keep looking, if for no other reason than because my hostel is a fourth-floor walkup. So I’m going to an open house right now. See you in an hour.

Writing a Post Helps

Daily Visits are going up.

Tan Tan WordPress Reports Plugin tells me the following:

During the past 7 days, your site received 56 visitors (+143%) and 373 pageviews (+604%).

That’s a fact. Pretty amazing, yes? It’s all because I took the time from coding the site and actually posted something. Somebody even took notice and put me on BlogOfTheDay. Wow. You can just write, and have people read it.

This is an important realization to have (and remember) for one such as myself. It’s really easy to be a do-nothing perfectionist. If it’s not perfect—screw it! Here I am, striving forward in my own private multi-day coding marathon, but do the means justify the end? Why have an awesome-looking blog if you only post twice in a month? I feel I should declare some sort of resolution. I know there’s supposed to be a personal challenge statement somewhere around here.

Hm. Now where could I have left it…

And this to show for it

My methods might be a little unorthodox.

I approach web design like an architect. I make careful evaluations, gather useful information about the site, sketch and refine many approaches… Then, like an architect deranged, I disregard that which I’ve hoarded and just go at the thing blunt force with a chisel and a beefy sledgehammer. I’m self-educated in this technique, in case you wondered.

Been working now for two days. I binge on the internet. I stay up till the really early hours, till way after others actually woken up and begun their day. But the layout is coming along quite nicely I reckon. You just have to account for those tiny (gigantic?) impasses where browser quirks leave you befuddled and pounding a sledgehammer into some innocent bystanding keyboard.

Please Welcome Sweden and the Philippines

At first it seems these two illustrious countries have nothing to do with one another.

Sweden, land of fjords, vikings, linganberry wine, and (if my travels overseas are any indication) a whole lotta amazingly-accented Indian girls. And the The Philippines! What can I say? You’ve got volcanoes that can evacuate entire regions of space, I hear sometimes you fish with dynamite, and you probably still have that beer brand with a monkey. What could these two possibly have in common? If you said, “nothing”… Ha! Well, that is true, except for maybe one thing: in the past week, stray webfarers in both those countries happen to have visited this friggin’ site. This thing actually gets read in other countries. I am an ambassador to the world, whether you believe it or not, world.

Visitor map from Google Analytics - Sweden AND the PhillipinesNot since the Rocky Horror Discovery Scare of ’04 have I even been conscious that there might be people poring over The Glot, people I hadn’t personally met. Looking for information. Googling “checklist+post+death+planning” in all seriousness, only to find my smarmy, self-bemused, wholly overrated misrepresented site pinging their naive Googledar. What if that Swede’s only brother just died, in a sled crash involving drunk reindeer perhaps, leaving that poor Swede to make all the funeral arrangements? He doesn’t know the steps! He needs me to tell him. And what do I wanna do? Get into a bar fight over beer nuts. Wonder of wonder, horror of Rocky Horrors!

Every goal has a dark side. I would like to make my blog glot a place where more people would like to visit. Even have another entity appreciate my silly writing. One outside the immediate single genetic degree of family. A human entity too, since those lurky MSNbots obviously get a hearty kick outta my material already. Comment, damned robots! But every once in a while, you’re gonna have to disappoint some grieving Swede. That’s life. Seriously though—who wants to plan post-death? Not a lot of forethought in that search, boy-o.

Sweden and Philippines, I give you my hat tip. You may not have found my site useful. You may not have stayed longer than a minute. You may have even web-snorted in contempt at this tiny, indulgent, gaudy, blog-like, and oversyllablistic web-shite that Google mis-pinged to you… maybe. I thank you for your votes of confidence nonetheless.

Pre-Death Checklist

I’d like to announce I’m not planning on dying soon! Huzzah! I arrived at that conclusion by way of this list I made today, of the things I wanna do before I die:

  • travel to Australia
  • skydive
  • have an out-of-body experience (preferably not skydiving)
  • watch a live birth
  • pass along my genetic material to next generation (see above)
  • have my own hellacool apartment
  • wear a speedo in public
  • get a haircut from a friend
  • shave my head
  • be on television
  • have my own radio show
  • invent something useful to the human race
  • write a novel
  • compile my memoirs (different than above)

Yeah, I admit it’s not a lot. But these are the kind of ideas that come to you over a period of time. Like, a lifetime. Keep an eye on the updated, permanent verison.


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