29th of July 2000
I've started to witness a disturbing trend - one I've never had to deal with before as a no-talent designer. Studying referrals from this site in my logs, I couldn't help but notice the striking similarity. The design resemblance doesn't bother me - in fact I'm happy to give credit to Lance Arthur's Glassdog for originally inspiring this design. But the downright ripping of content, links and all, is another matter. I'm willing to give benefit of the doubt and assume the developer is just preparing a template, but I will be keeping an eye on it.
In a similar vein, the IB Presents award program is occasionally being misrepresented. For example, this outfit has posted the IB Design and Artistry award for a site they designed, Aural Stimuli, that instead won the IB Advanced Technology award. I realize it's mere quibbling over a cheap and useless graphic, but misrepresentations like this can affect my credibility. Just want to get that on the record.
Who couldn't like this guy?
28th of July 2000
Discovered a new UBB forum by following links from the webmistress. Called The Sandbox, it appears to cater mostly to journallers, but isn't limiting in that sense. Following an expansive theme, it starts small by discussing the home-base, Blue Silver, then gets bigger with a thread about Bloggerville. From what I've seen elsewhere, Dreama the moderator is quite opinionated - in the right sort of way.
The next step up, bigger yet, advances discussion to the World Wide Web in general. If that still doesn't serve your niche, get absolutely huge by talking about what's going on in the world. News, politics, sports, the economy - it's open season. Finally, as big as can be is the truly open playground where anything and everything are fair game. The only rules are to play nice and to limit yourself to only that which you would say aloud in the presence of you mother.
Hey You! Congrats on your anniversaries, both of them. Here's a kick, right between the cheeks. Most successful free-lancers are self-starters. Beat those bushes - don't wait for the phone to ring or the door to knock. Whatever you've already done to market yourself; triple it in August. NYC is one big place.
27th of July 2000
Time for a do-over. The forum portion of IB Community never caught on like the storytelling. There have been several comments about the manner I implemented the forum being perhaps intimidating. I chose originally to create a separate thread for each individual story. As the library expanded, so too the empty threads. So, I've cleaned the slate and emerged with a single thread. Still, it won't amount to more than before without your help. Also, some much appreciated assistance from Zachary Mutrux. I've improved the usability for IE5 Mac browsers - one I can't test. Thanks Zac.
26th of July 2000
The interview with Dave about three-megapixel digital photography is posted today in the technology section of NewMedia magazine. Gee, they make him sound like an expert. I guess maybe he is, I just think of him as my little brother.
25th of July 2000
Dog bath day - an exercise in chaos. The poodle loves the bath but hates the haircut. The chihuahua hates the bath, but loves the end result. Clipped 32 toenails; only one too short, not bad. Hair, water, soap, and nail clippings everywhere. Soft, sweet smelling dogs with a spring to their step and a randiness to their demeanor. That will last until the next time they go outside and roll around in everything they can find.
24th of July 2000
Why is it human nature to take everything so seriously? I've noticed that tendency in real-life, and I've noticed it on the web. You know, it seems to me the people who are genuinely happy and content are those who just go on about their business without worrying what others think or how they're going to react. Relax, enjoy life, it isn't a competition to see who lives the longest or who has the most friends. Don't take yourself so darn serious. Someone on this Earth will love you no matter what.
23rd of July 2000
In the summer of 1991, my brother and I spent a memorable week in the beautiful Sawtooth National Recreation Area north of Sun Valley, Idaho. The weather was great, the scenery glorious, the comraderie fulfilling. But the thing I remember most was boots -- the wrong boots.
We set off on a hike one day, headed for an up-mountain lake talked about favorably by the locals. Thinking mountain terrain, I put on my heavy waffle-stomping hiking boots rather than comfortable sneakers. We misread the topo map -- elevation change and distance. The eventual destination was everything described to us (glad we went), but by the end of the day, we had hiked ten miles in the wrong shoes. Very tired, sore feet.
That evening around the campfire was one of pain with every movement, I swear I saw steam come off the creek when I soaked my tootsies. I put together a few pictures of that day. The quality isn't great, they're captures from a video camera rather than scanned photos, but please enjoy. Kick your shoes off.
|
Entering the area Our hiking destination |
Five miles up Five miles back |
as featured on
On Deck Circle
Thoughts@Random
Zeldman Presents
Swallowing Tacks
Bloggin' at You
the head lemur
sapphireblue
ctrl-alt-ego
Harrumph!
She Says
Over 30
KittyKitty
Forty-two
Doc Searls
webmistress
Weblogs.com
Random Notes
Virulent Memes
sweet aspirations
jenett's webstream
A 4-year-old boy was asked to return thanks before Christmas dinner. The
family members bowed their heads in expectation. He began his prayer, thanking God
for all his friends, naming them one by one.
Then he thanked God for Mommy, Daddy, brother, sister, Grandma, Grandpa, and all his
aunts and uncles. Then he began to thank God for the food. He gave thanks for the
turkey, the dressing, the fruit salad, the cranberry sauce, the pies, the cakes, even
the Cool Whip.
Then he paused, and everyone waited - and waited. After a long silence, the young
fellow looked up at his mother and asked, "If I thank God for the broccoli, won't he
know that I'm lying?"
A baby was born to a couple. When he was one, he could talk like an adult. When
he was two, he could read anything. When he was three, he could do advanced calculus.
When he was four, he could predict the future.
One day, he made three predictions: "One year from today, I will die. Two years from
today, my mother will die. Three years from today, my father will die." Sure enough,
a year later the young boy died.
The father, getting the picture in a big way, loaded up his wife with a million
dollars in life insurance. A year later she died. The father collected the million
dollar insurance benefit, and, figuring he only had a year before his own death, went
on a 364-day binge. Fast cars. Faster women. Exotic vacations. Flings with
supermodels.
His timing was perfect, for on the 364th day, he blew the last penny on a Blue
Sapphire martini and an exotic dancer with a taste for overpriced champagne and
sexy lingerie. At midnight, he toasted himself, "What a way to go," and slipped
off into what he assumed would be his big sleep.
To his amazement, he woke up the next morning. He had cheated death! He was
invincible! Then the exotic dancer with whom he'd spend the night broke the news.
"Honey, better come quick, the pool boy's dead."
