Geof reminded me today:

"Question: how do you eat an elephant?"
"Answer: one bite at a time."Thus, today, I've been nibbling away at the elephant that is the sum total of my old cat.net entries. I'm trying to get them moved into greymatter format and to make them play nicely with my new ones, but I have to be honest. It's just not happening, and I'm starting to get really frustrated.

"That's the point of the movie and the book: the lengths people go to escape their reality. This film is a nose dive into the ground and, beyond the ground, into the sub-basement of hell. When I pitched the movie, I told people that I wanted it to be like you jumped out of an airplane and about midway coming down you remember that you forgot your parachute."That's where the movie begins—the second you realize you forgot your parachute. And the film ends five minutes after you hit the ground, and you're alive during that last five minutes, catching your last few breaths.

Ever wondered what goes on in the head of someone who maintains a personal site of this size?

Currently on my plate: the big evil project I've been sitting on for a few months. Namely, back-entering all of my old entries into greymatter. This is long, boring, tedious, and mind-numbing work. (Did I mention boring and painstaking?) As soon as that is done, a couple more items from my wishlist can fall into place. The reworking of the archives means that all of the archive pages will be html 4.0 compliant.

We left Friday morning, just after six a.m. I awakened, groggy from fitful sleep, and dashed around the house doing errands in a stream of fogged consciousness; as I was putting out the trash for pickup, Kat and Sean arrived. We packed, we left.

The second half-hour of a long road trip is always somewhat disappointing. The rush and crush is over; you've left, and there's nothing to get excited about except the mind-numbing expanse of open road. Six and a half hours of highway driving to get to New Orleans.

Movies can make me think about many things: my life, my past, my future, my actions, my dreams. Every now and then one comes along that makes me rethink my actions and makes me doubt myself. I watched EDtv this evening and came away more disquieted than the premise of the movie would normally suggest.

Domesticat is my outlet, my creative energy, my place to write and think and design in peace. Yet I make it publicly viewable. I don't actively encourage people to come to the site; I mention it to people if the situation and conversation warrants it, but I do not force people to come here.

Yet…since I started the site thirteen months ago, I've watched quietly as my site hits went up every month. The first time I got queasy and a bit nervous was when I realized that people other than my close, immediate, living-here-in-town friends were reading what I wrote.

"I'd noticed that when you were working with numbers you often wiggled your fingers."

A very simple motion, that. Look away momentarily and it is easily missed: an arpeggio played from left pinky to left thumb, and occasionally even crossing over to the right hand. What am I doing?

I'm multiplying.