I'm not entirely sure why I have such a difficult time keeping up with posting here. I'll readily admit that it's about sixty percent procrastination and/or laziness. I seem to have an overabundance of both of those qualities. But the remaining forty percent is more difficult to pin down. The thing is, I write about three or four times more crap than I ever post. Many times I'll start writing something, get interrupted, and never go back to it.
I was just reading one of Wil Wheaton's blog postings (You may ask yourself, "well, how did I get here?"), and I realized something. Wil, along with most or all of the people whom I am fans of have a deep sense of gratitude. There are many famous actors and writers that I couldn't care less about. People who I will happily watch their movies or read their books, but I won't follow on Twitter or stand in line to shake their hand.
FaceBook has gotten big lately. I mean really, really big. So big, that it strains credulity that there might be people who choose not to connect with all their friends, loved ones, friends of loved ones, enemies, frenemies, and that one person you met on vacation and friended but don't really know but are too nice to unfriend. How can people not want to join this amazing thing?
It is always a little uncomfortable for me when I talk to someone and they say that they read my blog. I'm not too comfortable with people praising my work, though fortunately, that is seldom an issue. Instead it is that all of my worthwhile stories and anecdotes end up either here or on Twitter (http://twitter.com/aristeos). What little wit I can muster I pour into my posts (yes folks, this is the best I can do), so I'm forced to try to come up with some new and interesting topic that I haven't blogged yet.
Is it ironic that this year we have had a mostly pleasant spring, but since I haven't had cows to take care of, I haven't been working outside enjoying it? Ruth and I have an ongoing argument about the meaning of irony, but I think that the first nice calving season in years--just after we sell the cows--counts.
It has been quite an adjustment living without the cows, but I have to admit that the opportunity to travel in February and March have been a rather welcome upside.
In my opinion the best cover that Wired magazine has ever had was on the December 1999 issue. It depicted a winged woman casting herself off of a cliff. I believe it was meant to signify the excitement and potential of the new millennium, but there seemed to me to be a note of unease and uncertainty about the picture. Excitement tinged with a frightening leap of faith into the unknown. Of course the new millennium was just a calendar ticking over from one year to the next, and the importance of it, had only to do with the human brain liking round numbers.
Just spent most of the afternoon, evening, and a fair portion of night, updating Drupal (the software that runs this site). Some rather nasty database and settings issues bit me squarely on the ass, and I had to manually edit all the the entries for the photos. Fortunately, since I'm so lazy about actually putting crap on here, the job wasn't too overwhelming. Unfortunately there won't be any noticeable improvement in the usability of the site, but it should be more stable and robust down the road.
