26 January 2007

enthusiasm binges

It occured to me today that I may have a strange affliction: enthusiasm binges.
I have been indulging them lately, in a manic frenzy of over-activity. Book-making, letter-writing, scarf knitting, pot-plant planting, web-site building, manic-hard-drive organization.
I mean MANIC.
Rational thought will have NO ESCAPE from this evening's organizational tactics.
And though this may sound just peachy to some, I am really not quite sure. It's getting excessive.

I really need to get cable. Or perhaps the motivation to figure out how this television I was loaned actually gets even the basic channels, which I haven't quite had the patience to do yet.

Anyhow, I'm not sure what all this means, but I did feel the need to post a vague concern.

I suppose this productivity does keep me in tow over the winter months, and alleviates some work worries I've been having.
I googled enthusiasm binges, anyhow. Only got four hits: two blogs and two dead ends. So if it's an ailment, I'm the only one who has it. (sigh) Great. Oh, would that I were a normal human being!

25 January 2007

my anatomical leanings and a horrid nightmare.

This'll be a post with subheadings, i think.
It's just that kind of post.
And I love subheadings.

I went to bed feeling immensely clever.
I taught myself to write html and build websites etc from scratch many years ago, so whenever I finish one I always have this memory of my very first web page. (It was hand-coded, so to speak, and took about 13 hours. I kid you not. It was a red screen with the word hello that linked to a green page that said well done!.)
(My roomie at the time, 073666, was most impressed, especially when I got him out of bed to show him at 2 in the morning.
"Oh." he said, if I remember correctly.)

For those of you unfamiliar with my new site, one of the splash pages has four mason jars on a shelf, which, when rolled over, reveal different parts of human anatomy floating in the formaldehyde which lead you to the pertinent pages (ie. eyes for paintings, heart for books, stomach for freelance work)

I know.

I love anatomy. It fascinates the hell out of me, I think the human body is the most beautiful and AMAZING machine that exists. I think about it every day, and it never fails to remind me of magic, and I am convinced that every single thing we do, have, or have created, can be found to be a mere and modest mimicry of something that already goes on inside us physiologically.
(shrug) It's my ideal metaphor.

When I first told Coco (aka. 231079, aka RSS, aka what on earth do you want to be known as on this blog?) about my new design, she was vaguely horrified.
I chuckled a bit, as I do, seeing as I am the FIRST one under my chair, hands paralysed, when the horror movie trailers grace the theatre screen. I can deal with them, but from beneath my chair is the place I do it best.
When concocting my little splash page drawings, it didn't even occur to me that my little mason jars have much the same effect on your (well, not really average), but definitely sane human being.

I had a HORRIFIC nightmare last night.
Literally a "cold sweat and awaking in manic terror of the dark room" sort of dream. I don't have them often, and i hate them. HATE them. Probably because I spend so much time dissecting them for significance, I end up feeling like this is it, my time is up, etc etc.
I won't go into any details about it here, not only would it send you, dear reader(s) running, but would probably bring the little men in white coats clamouring forward to remove me from the internet for content violations.
But I will say in part of the dream I was decapitated.
(Don't worry, I sewed my head back on and even managed to smoke a cigarette.)
(And I don't even smoke.)
(Beetlejuice's got nothing on me.)

Now I comprehend, and now I worry.
I'm not really sure what to do, because what looks like four modest mason jars with anatomy in them is really a week and a half of toil and hairpulling.
So I suppose this is a disclaimer of sorts.

I guess for now, did I say go visit my website? Don't go visit my website.

24 January 2007

i'm sorry Coco, there are no dancing ladies.

But it's DONE. and up. Not content to just add the few trifling things missing, I rebuilt my whole website in the last week.
Off my head. Utterly Potty.
But thrilled nonetheless.
It's quite the task, I was doing a link check to finish up and my hefty website program told me there are 1545 links in the bloody thing. How does it keep TRACK of everything?!?! I wonder.
Anyhow. Come visit.

a cyber respite.

it's true. I have been remiss.
Not content to just "update my website" with new projects, (how GAUCHE), I am toiling away at a redesign, which is so on the cusp of being finished that I am salivating, if it is possible to do such a thing online.
Coco, I don't know if there will be dancing ladies, but I am striving, oh how I am striving.

I'm aiming for the end of the week to upload said site, and I pray you, be patient. You bloggy sorts will no doubt appreciate my new html efforts in this latest venture in websitedom. It is true, I have discovered....(cyber drum roll) SLICES. (sounds of accelerated heartbeat and heavy breathing) Goodness.

In the meanwhile.
Discovered this quite by accident whilst writing a (thumpa thumpa) letter this evening.
But yes.
I dropped my thesaurus, a formidable tome, and as I leaned down to pick it up, I saw that the honorable sorts in Oxford have provided us english speakers with three synonyms for "man on the Clapham Omnibus".
These are: (in order of importance) "hoi polloi", "people", and "plebeian"

How extraordinarily competent of them.