I've been having considerable problems with my Dell laptop keyboard. Several of the keys (SHFT, CTRL, and 'c') only work if you pound them, hard, and the 'a' key keeps repeaaaaaaaaaaating.

Thinking that the keyboard needed cleaning, I grabbed an index card and started digging around underneath the keys.

Cat hairs. Thousands and thousands of cat hairs. Underneath every key is a little wad of silvery fur. Even after I removed about a cat's worth of fur, I still had to pound the 'c', and the 'a' still keeps repeating, because I can't get out all the aaaaaaaat haaaaairs.

Today the decision about getting a new keyboard was made for me when I clicked the 'a' key and the top went flying off across the room.

The way of dealing with the stress of the interviewing process is NOT to sit in front of the computer, becoming frustrated at the BS associated with RSS. I need to work on the RDF book, true, but I'm also taking time to do some hiking.

In fact, I'm going to be increasing the difficulty of the hikes I take. I'm still not in the best of shape, but if I take it slow and use caution, I should be able to traverse some of the tougher hikes in the area.

There are few things more uplifting to the soul than completing a challenge that's just beyond your current skills. Nothing else seems to give a greater boost to either morale or confidence. I need this now. I need the type of challenge that tempts me to give up half way, but that I'll stick with, and succeed. No one and no body can give you this type of success, or take it away.

So, if you're in Missouri, out in the country, and hear the far off faint cries of a woman screaming at the top of her lungs, you'll know that it's just me, having met another challenge...or it's me, and I've managed to fall off a cliff.

(Just foolin' about the cliff. My mama didn't raise no fool.)

There are few things I dislike more than interviewing for new gigs, especially in a town where you don't know the consulting companies, and don't have contacts. However, my name has now been submitted for several longish contracts at some bigger companies and hopefully in the next week or two, I'll get work.

(I'm not going to mention company names, even when I do get a new contract. Who I work for is between me and the company, and the consulting company that arranges the contract.)

Today, the employers rule, and it shows. It's discouraging to go into an interview with several years of Java development experience (and references) as well as having worked on two Java books in 1996, and being Sun Java Certified, only to have the consulting firm want to have you take a bench test in Java.

Luckily, the weblog doesn't matter -- none of the folks here have heard of weblogging. And most don't care that I've written books on technology. In fact, I'm finding that technology and capability is less important than how you dress and your 'attitude', here. Perhaps the mid-western folks in the audience, especially those in the St. Louis area, will let me know if I'm off the mark on this. I truly hope I am.

The worst interview so far was Wednesday, last week. I was interviewing to be part of a team of consultants on a gig, and as soon as I walked through the door, I could tell the guy wasn't interested. And it continued to show for an entire hour.

So, was my college a liberal arts college or an engineering college? He'd found that people who came from a liberal arts computer science program just didn't have the proper background as true engineers. I found this question puzzling because I graduated from college in 1987, and most hirers could care less about college when you've been working for several years. However, my college was a liberal arts college. He then asked if it was any good.

How does one answer a question like that? My first reaction was to say, "Well, we didn't have computers, so we got some cardboard boxes and painted switches on them and pretended to program them." But I didn't.

Amidst interruptions to take phone calls or talk to people in the hallway (without once apologizing -- I guess this is another engineering thing, no politeness), he also asked about what I did before I went back to college since it was obvious that I wasn't 18 twenty years ago. Well, now, that was fun.

Also, he informed me he would have more references from me since I'd been in so many jobs. I told him I was a consultant since 1994, and normally consultants don't spend years at a job. Since I was interviewing for a contract, this discussion just didn't make sense.

I have interviewed so many times in the past, I've lost count, but I've never interviewed with such an obvious asshole as this guy. When I finished, I went out to my car and just leaned my forehead against the stearing wheel for twenty minutes. What the heck am I doing here?

At least my cat likes me.

Well, I was feeling sorry for myself earlier until my friends told me to lay off and 'quitcherbellyachin' -- sort of.

In particular, Loren reminded me that rather than being out hiking in the woods, or at the St. Louis zoo as I was today, I could be as he is -- poor soul, chained to his desk and computer, slowly converting his weblog from Adobe GoLive to Movable Type by copying and pasting each individual entry. Select-Copy-Paste. Select-Copy-Paste. Select-Copy-Paste.

Loren, though you're not the first to make the move to Movable Type, you're ahead of the pack in quality of material posted ... and in the sheer volume of work necessary for you to make the conversion. So, this photo's for you.

Well, I've become such a dead bore, lately. Either writing on technology, or other stuff that lacks zip and zing.

I should be writing about Chris Locke rising from the dead in his manic phase. Hey Chris, if you want to know about Krakens, holler, I have a story for you. Gary Turner has gone soft, warm, orange in his new weblog design, and Allan Moult, Jonathon Delacour, and Loren Webster are all out experiencing the joys of Movable Type on Unix. They're having fun.

And others are out and about having fun. I should stop being a dead bore and start having fun.

Just posted the following over at RSS-Dev (edited to remove typos):

There seems to be three separate threads running along the lines of "Who are we and what are we trying to accomplish", mixed in with proofs and justification of keeping RDF in the mix. How can the energy expended into these threads be coalesced into a determined course?

I asked the question, here and elsewhere, who is your audience? This isn't marketing or make work. This is a genuine attempt to understand what this group hopes to accomplish other than working with cool technology for the sake of the technology. What is the business of this group?

If RSS, past and current, is based on providing syndication and aggregation feeds, and nothing more, than I agree with those that say RDF adds nothing to the mix, and not because RDF adds complexity -- the reason is because the business of RSS isn't necessarily compatible with the business of RDF.

In the last few weeks, Phil Ringnalda has been working on a application to process RSS 1.0 files and combine this with FOAF to provide a sophisticated interface allowing us to find who has posted or commented on what topic. Yesterday he hit what is probably the core difference between the business of RSS and the business of RDF -- the fact that tools generate labels for blank nodes, and that these labels will vary each time the same file is parsed. (See
http://philringnalda.com/archives/002327.php). RDF/RSS (RSS 1.0) has blank nodes.

RDF is a meta-language for describing items that exist in such a way that this data can be processed with the same set of tools and combined with a great deal of confidence that this mergence results in a valid pool of rich data. It is literally a markup version of the relational data model, and as such, is extremely useful and necessary to help with the chaos that XML created. However, there is an implied persistence to the items described with RDF, the same as there is with relational databases. Data may change and be removed, but there is no temporal self-destruct attached to the items.

RSS, as the majority of those who view it (the users, not the tool developers) is a syndication feed -- nothing more than recently updated items that can be polled and aggregated. There is no implied persistence. In fact, the business of RSS is based on impermanence.

This is a major difference in 'business' between the two concepts. From a database perspective, this is equivalent to using an RDBMS when a flat file of comma-delimited data is all you need.

If this group wants to continue providing a specification that defines syndication feeds, then it needs to consider that RDF not only doesn't buy the group anything -- it can harm the tool developers that use the spec. (Not to mention that trying to use RDF inappropriately can actually negatively impact the acceptance of the RDF specification.)

If, however, this group sees that what they're working on transcends throwaway syndication feeds, then it needs to formally define exactly what the business is _before_ trying to create a spec that implements it. Hence my questions: who is your audience and what are you trying to accomplish?

Specific instances of technology aren't an answer to these questions. This isn't answered by, "Well, we'll just continue as is and use XSLT to handle any problems in the future" or "We'll use modules". If you find yourself answering these questions by referencing technology, then either you're missing the point, or (more likely) I'm doing a piss-poor job of explaining myself.

What is the problem this group is trying to resolve? What is the benefit this group is trying to provide that no other technology or specification provides? Who is your audience? Not the tool developers -- people don't write tools for no reason. Who are the consumers of the tools developed?

What are you trying to accomplish?

This understanding of the basic business goes beyond a name, though the name of 'RSS' is drastically adding to the problem by forcing a type of business on this group that this group really doesn't want, as well as adding an element of competition that is both unnecessary and harmful.

Perhaps this group really isn't interesting in throwaway syndication feeds. Perhaps this group is interested in finding ways of describing publication units that may or may not be smaller or bigger than an individual web page, and a side benefit of this is that the data can be used for aggregation purposes. Or not. I don't know -- the group hasn't told me what the business is.

If you continually have to justify the use of something over and over again, either you're wrong, or your audience is wrong. In either case, you need to re-focus your efforts, and either find a different audience, or stop beating a dead effort.

(Note, names have been changed to protect the deliciously guilty...)

[12:19] Shelly: "Postscript: You know, there are no women involved in
the RDF/RSS working group or the RDF working group. I think this should
change. Perhaps I should lurk less and talk more. Any other lady techs in
the audience wish to join me?" Good point!
[12:20] you know, I didn't know Shelly was a girl.
[12:20] i thought that was a last name.

(Reprinted with permission.)

Through an afternoon spent fighting torrential rains and aggressive truckers, I'm finally in my own comfy chair, computer on lap, and -- wonders! -- an internet connection. A week of not being connected, and my emails are still downloading. Hopefully I won't accidentally delete anything important.

This last week I drove from Missouri to Illinois to Wisconsin to Minnesota to North Dakota to Montana and finally to Sandpoint Idaho, located on Pend Oreille (pronounced "ponderay") lake, the Northwest's largest lake. Sandpoint also happens to be my mother's new home, the turn about point of my trip. Along the way I spent some time in Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota, home of the Bad Lands.

The trip out was lovely: uncrowded roads, great weather, terrific views, and friendly fellow travelers at breakfast in hotels/inns where I stayed.

On the return I went from Idaho to Montana to Wyoming to South Dakota to Iowa to Missouri. And hit storms almost the entire way except for the start of this day in South Dakota. Driving in the rain is fun; driving in storms with flooded roads and 60 MPH winds leaves a bit to be desired. Still, if one can specify no challenges, it wouldn't be an adventure, would it?

I have a few stories to tell, nothing exciting. And I have a few photos to show, starting with these here. However, I have email to read, and other weblogs to catch up on. Not to mention the comments attached to the RDF posting (my, my, looks like lots of fun occurred there). Tomorrow.

Old Cabin in Field - North Dakota

Badlands

Badlands 2

Buffalo

Castle Rock - Wisconsin

Castle Rock Path

From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently,but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.
I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road

In the morning I begin another one of my road trips, except this time I have no particular destination in mind, and journey for no purpose other than the feel of the road beneath my wheels. I'll most likely be starting a new contract soon, and wanted to grab one more adventure before settling in behind cubical walls.

I promise copious photos and interesting stories from my (paper) journal when I return.

In the meantime, I owe some answers about RDF to some folks, as well as a couple of book reviews. I just finished the RDF posting, and I'm going to try for one of the reviews, but the other, on Geek Love will never occur, I'm afraid. I found I could not finish the book.

Geek Love is a story that's based on the human drama, played out in a circus sideshow. Unfortunately, since I was a small child, I've always hated sideshows, freakshows, anything of this nature. I can't stand Ripley's Believe It or Not, and positively loath Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe in Seattle. I once watched the Movie Freaks when I was younger, and had nightmares for months.

I have no doubt that Geek Love is wonderfully written -- the reviews of it are incredible. But the subject defeats me, and I must apologetically and regretfully return the book to the library. Denise, sorry!

TTFN

I have been a busy little worker lately. I spent all weekend reviewing the hard copy of the Unix Power Tools book -- all one thousand pages of it -- looking for problems, as well as pulls for the book's web site.

I also made a stab at my first chapter for my online book, but I'm very unhappy with it. Very. The problem with reading wonderful writing by truly great authors is that my own writing suffers, dramatically, in comparison. Everything I write lately just sits on the page, flat, dejected, and suffering. If there was such a thing as a gun for words, I would shoot each of mine and give them a quick and painfree end.

I took a break from writing today to interview at two different consulting companies. If all goes well, I should be back in the land of the employed by month's end.

Between company appointments, as I was sitting at the computer trying to think of something less than dismal to write into the weblog, my cat Zoe wanted up on my lap for snuggles. Considering that I always interview in a black suit, I wasn't too happy about her jumping up and getting silvery hairs all over me. I snapped at her, yelling at her to get off my lap.

She left the room and when I went looking for her later, I found her curled up in a small, sad, hurt little ball of fur on my chair down in the living room. What does she know of work? What does she know of suits? All she knows is that I yelled at her just for coming in for snuggles. I felt like such a heel.

She's sitting on my lap now. She says Hi to everyone.

My roommate decided I needed exercise for my painful back yesterday and took me to the Sculpture Park near our house for a gentle walk. Aside from the fact that I was walking somewhat like Frankenstein's Monster (arms rigidly at my side, stiff backed, movements accompanied by occasional non-verbal grunts) and that we were prey to every West Nike infested mosquito for miles, the walk was very pleasant.

The park has several trails, some paved, some rough dirt, each with sculptures appearing in clearings and glades, across streams, forming pyramids. Fascinating, and very peaceful.

As we walked back to the car, a siren started to sound, first in one part of the park, then another, and another, until we were surrounded by the sounds of synchronized sirens. As one siren would soften, another would take up the cry, each echoing around us among the trees. It was probably one of the most astonishing sounds I have ever heard.

And then, as I was standing listening to the sirens, just ahead through the trees at the top of the hill we were climbing, I saw a jet fly past.

"Rob! Did you see that jet!"

"No. Where was it?"

"Through those trees over there", I said, pointing, walking as quickly as I could to the top of the hill, past the trees only to be met with more trees. No airport, no runway.

When I arrived home I went online and searched everywhere for information about the Sculpture Park, the sirens, the plane. I could find nothing other than a description of the park and the statues.

I know there is a prosaic answer to what I saw. The plane was most liky from a nearby airport, its closeness an illusion caused by incorrect perspective. As for the sirens, they're most likely an exhibit at the park or a test of the local emergency tornado warning system. Every question has an answer, a reasonable answer.

However, the experience I had yesterday is made magical by not knowing, not having the facts, and leaving the questions unanswered.

(And if you have the answer for my mystery, keep it as your little secret. Let me have my moment of magic.)

Update: photo of the dangerous West Nike mosquito.

I somehow hurt my neck and upper back along the spine and am unsure of how long I'll be able to stay online. Even laying down, trying to type into the computer just isn't working out.

If you email and I don't respond, I'm not being rude and ignoring you. Same with comments to postings.

In the meantime, check out the webloggers song in the making.

Update: AKMA, I'm not sure why your emails to me are bouncing. If it continues, drop me a note in the comments to this post and I'll see if I can find a problem in my email server. I definitely don't want to miss your emails, and I'm keen to keep up with your important research.

Open question to my Etherworld friends: anyone else's emails to me bouncing?

I was woken up in the middle of the night last night by a loud sound. As I lay in bed, confused, wondering if the neighbor was partying I heard what sounded like the train. For a very, very long time.

Finally, I drifted back to sleep.

Just watched local news -- the train derailed right next to our housing complex. Luckily, no one was hurt. Also luckily, this trip they weren't carrying nuclear waste or dangerous chemicals. Guess the Bird isn't going to be glowing in the dark after all.

But now I have to find a back way to get to my library.

Michael Barrish:

I am alone

Mark Pilgrim:

I am blessed.

Karl

Never tell me the odds.

Jonathon Delacour:

Life is a beautiful dream.

Shannon Campbell

I reap what I sow.

Steve Himmer

How did I get here?

Bearman

I have what I need.

Frank Paynter:

I continue to grow.

Euan Semple:

What I am is enough.

Dorothea Sala

I'll get by.

Will Raleigh:

False risk is almost enough.

Stavros the WC

Somewhere there's a place I belong.

Robert Brown

A work in progress.

And my own story, the story that Michael Barrish says ...we try all of our lives to prove is true and that can be summarized in five words or less?

I am a writer.

Update:

And so the tapestry unfolds, woven from words which come simply and gracefully across the screen from each writer. Whatever the tapestry is called, though, one thing is certain: it sure as heck isn't named "meme".

Sure there are starving people in the world, and war, and a lot of pain and suffering and sickness, but hey! It's time to re-focus back on what's truly important to Americans: Baseball.

I mean, really, stop fretting about the World Summit, and turn off that report about an invasion of Iraq -- tomorrow we could be faced with an act that digs at the very foundation of our society. Tomorrow we could be faced with a Baseball Strike

What will we do? Who will help those poor unfortunate Baseball players, barely subsisting on a seven-figure salary?

Luckily, there is something you can do as discovered by Michael Mussington:

For only $20,835 a month, about $694.50 a day (that's less than the cost of a large screen projection TV) you can help a MLB player remain economically viable during his time of need. This contribution by no means solves the problem as it barely covers the annual minimum salary, but it's a start, and every little bit will help!

Read more, and remember: only you can help a baseball player.

Regardless of the motives, I think that Jamie Lee Curtis' recent photo shoot was terrific. She's showing that in the battle with gravity, gravity ultimately wins. She also shows that it's time to blow the hell out of our fixation on having perfect bodies.

It's easy to feel beautiful when the world looks at you in approval because you fit the perfect mold of what is "beautiful". What a kick to dress sexy, post for provocative photos, flaunt the bod when it's all there. But what happens when it isn't all there?

Being beautiful should be based on something more than just our hair color, tight butt, or ripe, ruby red lips. And being fit should be something we do for ourselves, to feel healthy, and to stay active. We shouldn't have to be fit, or skinny, or have plastic surgery, or dress in certain ways just to meet some vapid person's approval.

I remember when I was much younger, and much more callow, how I would look at older women and think to myself, look at that hair, those breasts, that stomach. Now I look at my own hair, my own breasts, and my less than firm and ripply belly and send a silent and heartfelt apology to every woman I ever maligned in my jejune thoughts.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment I need to keep with the treadmill over at the gym. And when I'm finished with my nice, brisk walk, I'm going to indulge in a nice, luscious, calorie laden mocha Tim Tam to go with my coffee.

The best part of getting up early is watching the sun rise.

Today is for working, it is. Today is for nose down and finishing tasks and making milestones. I've marked out in my mind tasks to accomplish with each new position of the sun. The sun's "here", this is done. The sun's "there", that is done. The sun sets, and finished tasks will lay all about me, littering my desk but not my mind.

No time for play or foolishness today. Politics must wait, and beauty must sit on hold. Because today is for working, it is.

Seventeen straight hours of working with RDF in PHP, Java, Python, and Perl, including working with half a dozen APIs. Writing about same. Reviewing 200 pages of Unix book. Only 800 pages more to go.

The more I work, the farther I get behind. Light at the end of the tunnel? What light? Who took the tunnel?

Got much accomplished, really, and this is a goodness. But my stress level is exceptionally high at this point. Much more so than normal. However, rather than wander about the weblogging world, looking for things to react to (otherwise known as trolling for a fight), I thought I would try something new:

Turn the computer off.

Damn, I am tired. But I'm finally learning, aren't I?

I want to play. Really play, without deadlines hanging over my head. Without holding up long suffering editors. Free. Clear. Really play.

For instance, lots of talk about Jaguar and I want to install this on my PowerBook. And I want to wipe my Dell laptop clean and re-install Red Hat sans the dual boot with Windows 2000. I want to finally make the move to non-Windows (though I'll most likely install Virtual PC and Windows 2k on the Mac).

And I want to finish up ThreadNeedle and the new Here's My List application. Why? Because I want you to play, and me to be finished. Boy, you don't know how much I want to be finished. The code doesn't flow from my fingers; it drips out, line by line.

I want to read the books you've recommended to me, and I also want to read or re-read every book (well, almost every book) on the ALA banned book list, and contribute my part to the Banned Books Project. After all, considering my upbringing, I have a moral obligation to get involved.

And I want to write about my hometown. There's stories in that little town, more than you can see in the New York Times article, though this might give you an glimmer of what one can expect.

I want to write about the bride buried on her wedding day and the gold mine abandoned so quickly, rusted tools are still stuck in the wall. And I want to tell you the tale of the crazy old man who killed my Dad's partner with a shotgun when they went to the shooter's cabin. Or about the fences with signs saying "Trespassers will be shot", posted by people who mean every word.

I want to describe nights filled with the cry of cougars, and the scream of prey. And to tell you about the ghost cat who lived on an island in the lake.

To share with you moments such as walking through fruit trees with my gentle Welsh grandfather, him picking a peach from a tree and cutting slices with his pocket knife to give to me. Biting into sun warmed fruit, juices flowing down my chin as I meet the smile in his eyes.

Perhaps I'll write it as an online book, as others have considered or started. Doesn't this sound like fun?

Okay. Shelley's reached a book burnout moment. Yup, all the symptoms are there.

I'll be good tomorrow, but for tonight, I'm going to bed early and cozy up with the Sportswriter. Oh, and a book, too. To read.

Break time on the book. I'm currently working on the RSS chapters, and haven't I been careful when discussing the history of RSS. I'm also finding that I like the RDF working group's new specification split. Either I'm getting a feel for their reasoning or I'm getting rummy from trying to meet an editorial mark Monday evening. Either way, it works.

You hate cat pictures? Hate really cute cat pictures? Then don't go here (thanks to Head Lemur for heads up). Speaking of cat pictures, I'm still waiting patiently for cat pictures from someone in the community who shall go nameless (but you know who you are).

Dave helped Tara Grubb with a new web site, URL to be announced. I think this was a nice thing to do, but paused over:

As I was putting together the initial blogroll, I decided to link to Howard Coble, her opponent. I wondered how Tara would feel about it. I just walked her through the new site, and when I explained this part she literally shreiked with delight.

Hmmm.

I've started my own process of determing my vote. For senator, I'll most likely vote for Jean Carnahan, though I don't care for the widow rule, myself. However, she's preferable to James Talent, and the Libertarian candidate Tamara Millay is stressing the rights of citizens to bear arms a little too much for my taste (and the balanced budget amendment has no place in the Constitution). Her position on the issues (Tara, you need one of these) has good points, but they seem to lean a little heavily on the side of the Social Darwinists for my taste.

Frankly, none of the candidates is a blinding flash and a defeaning roar. (We'll see how many old time SciFi readers there are in the audience.)

You know, if I lived in one place long enough, I think I'd run for Congress. No, seriously. I'm fairly confident that no party would have me, but I could have such fun in Congress!

Just think of the possibilities....

(And on that note, back to the book.)

I really admire Doc for trying to find a middle ground between Larry Lessig and Dave Winer regardling Larry's rather assertive and bold speech at Open Source.

I agree with Doc: we're all on the side of angels, here. The important thing is that we all work towards something that's important to each of us: Larry is fighting copyright restrictions and Dave's fighting the Berman-Coble bill (by tring to get a Libertarian elected in North Carolina--no small task). It's unfortunate when someone such as Josh Allen seeks an even wider split by highlighting the differences between Larry and Dave rather than any similarites. And while I may agree with Allen in his admiration of Tim O'Reilly's article The Growing Politicization of Open Source, I disagree with him when he says:

How is it that the certain people have time to clone 30 year-old Unix utilities but not enough time to create really new things? How is it that certain people will politic so tirelessly to coerce California into using lousy software, while totally ignoring the individual liberty impacts of DMCA?

BTW, did I happen to mention that Josh Allen works for Microsoft? (Of course, in the interests of open disclosure and fairness, I must mention that I'm a co-author of the upcoming "Unix Power Tools 3rd edition" for O'Reilly. We all have our personal stakes in these conversations.)

I haven't talked much about copyright laws in this weblog because this isn't the fight I've picked. I think it's a good fight, and I would contribute to the EFF if I had more money (sigh), but most of my political energy is focused on preventing a war in Iraq, and on stopping the current administration's violations of the constitution. And if fighting these means voting for someone who might be for the Berman-Coble bill, so be it.

Confusing times when the angels you dance with one moment become devils the next. Why can't everyone just agree with me. Life would be so much simpler.

Just when you thought that we were going to have a typical weblogging Dead Zone (i.e. the weekend), more juicy tidbits pop up.

An open letter from a neighbor to the North: You have become a nation of monsters, America. Hypocrites. Murderers. Fools. And an accompanying MeFi thread.

We in the US are more than aware of what's happening here, and many of us are doing what we can to counter actions of Bush, Ashcroft, and others. Perhaps if Mr. McDougall spent a little more time on the internet, reading, and a little less time writing uncontrolled, vitrolic, and counter-productive rants, he might meet a few of us "Americans" who aren't monsters, hypocrites, muderers, and fools.

(But I wouldn't recommend he start with Metafilter.)

Though posting in the Weblogging Dead Zone is equivalent to a tree falling in the forest and making no sound, I decided to indulge in a little desultory rambling, anyway.

I spent several hours this morning over at the RSS-Dev group, catching up in that world for the RSS chapter of the book. Imagine my surprise when I found out that repeating properties aren't allowed in RSS. Really? They're okay in RDF. Well, color me surprised. However, the working group is considering changing the spec and allowing repeated properties. Yes. Good. Or my Books RSS will become just plain Books RDF.

I also managed to get the Python RDF server Redfoot running, and now I have both Redfoot and Tomcat running off my web server. (Though I fear that if all this additional load slows my separated by birth twin, Stavros the Wonder Chicken's weblog, he's going to get stressed and begin to molt.)

I had several errands this afternoon and the weather is extremely warm and very humid; I was squishy by the time I got home. I'm hoping for a nice thunderstorm, and in preparation, I also visited the library and stocked up.

Most of the books on my to-read list are either at other branches and need to be sent, or are checked out. However, I was able to pick up The Sportswriter, by Richard Ford, The Rings of Saturn by W. G. Sebald (both recommended by Jonathon), and Geek Love by Katherine Dunn (recommended by Denise Howell).

I glanced into The Rings of Saturn at the library, and ended up standing in the aisle, reading page after page, blocking everyone who was trying to get past. I finally had to stop at one point to move back to let one woman past. When I looked up in irritation, I met the placid good natured face of a short heavyset woman with a kindly smile, arms full of books.

"Good book?"

"Yes. Very."

And thank you for reminding me that I now live in a gentler, kindlier area, and that I still have the rudiments of good manners. Needless to say, I didn't glance into the other two books until I got home.

(edited -- removed a section talking about one of my childhood fears, and you all didn't need to hear it and I didn't want to read it.)

Enough rambling. If I continue I'll start talking about my cat and what I had for lunch, next. And I'm tired.

To all whom I've managed to offend, piss off, antagonize, and otherwise singe fully with my firey feathery wings in this last year ('ware the embrace of the Bird--she'll fry you), you can rest assured that tonight the fates are avenging you.

Can't sleep and am in a world of misery with marks of Missouris flora and fauna all over me.

I will never...ever...go walking in dense brush in unknown back woods without first understanding what's lurking in said woods and preparing accordingly ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER again.

Cross my firey little bug-bitten heart.

(Yo, bugs! 'scuse me, you want fries with that?)

Loren from In a Dark Time is off to my favorite place in the entire world, Cannon Beach:

There is something both inspirational and moving about the ocean. As it turns out, I spent my first honeymoon at the beach, but I also drove down to the beach to clear my mind the night I decided to leave my first wife. Perhaps it is the sense of timelessness you sense at the beach that makes it such a good backdrop to make important decisions.

He also leaves a gentle admonishment to me:

...I really don't need to get dragged into someone else's battle now do, I Bb?"

Loren is referring to my posting yesterday where I used both his weblog and a posting by Glenn Reynolds as examples of intelligence and intelligentsia, respectively. The interesting thing about this post is that I wasn't thinking of Glenn Reynolds or the warbloggers when I wrote it; it was actually directed elsewhere. However, in the midst of my war debates, and using Professor Reynolds' quote, I could see why the assumption was made that I was pointing it at the the warbloggers and Professor Reynolds.

Regardless, good point and well taken Loren, but no worries--I've realized how wrong it is to drag another into my battles.

Speaking of Professor Reynolds, he did write something yesterday that I felt was both honest and sincere:

I don't pretend to offer guarantees that American intervention in the region will make life better for the people who live there. I think it will, I hope it will, and I think we should do our best to make that so. But those are secondary objectives. The primary objective is to make clear to leaders that if their country threatens America, they, the rulers, will be out of power at best, and dead along with all their family and friends at worst. Is that "nice?" No. I don't care.

There is no pretense in this statement, and I can respect that, as I can respect Andrew Sullivan's statement (pointed to by Doc) along similar lines:

The far-left notion that this is a cynical war for "protecting American interests in the Middle East" is absurd. Such a war might indeed make the Middle East a safer place, but the war is about protecting America and the West, as well as liberating the Iraqi people from one of the most evil tyrants in history.

I imagine that Sullivan would concur with Reynolds in that freeing the Iraqi people is secondary to ensuring the safety of the West. If I disagree with both on the direction the US should take, I can respect their honesty.

One can talk, really talk, when all sides strip away rhetoric and side issues and focus on true opinions, concerns, and realities.

Speaking of battles and discussions, Jonathon suggests that I focus on debating Steven Den Beste rather than Eric Olsen and Glenn Reynolds. After reading the posts he references I agree with Jonathon. ( Though I think the link to the legal post is inaccurate; should it be this one instead?).

In particular, I appreciate Den Beste's multi-part Ground war in Iraq as a point of beginning discussions. With such a careful and detailed analysis, there is much to respond to.

However, for a discussion on the legality of a unilaterial US invasion of Iraq, I would prefer to focus more on John Chipman's America's Right to Fight Iraq in the Financial Times (through Glenn Reynolds).

I'll work on both posts as I wash all my clothes and vacuum in a vain attempt to rid myself of the Missouri buglife that has decided that I look like MacDonald's Golden Arches. However, from readings on the subject of chiggers that Ben was kind enough to provide, it would seem it was my last foray into the wild that's responsible for my current suffering and that only time will provide me a cure. Unfortunate as there are so many bites on my legs I look like I have the measles.

I have found Dante's missing hell: it's full of chiggers.

(And I'm still trying to figure out what caused the huge bite that's so inflamed--a mosquito couldn't have caused this, could it? What kind of mosquitos live in Missouri--reincarnated fighter pilots?)

There is little I dislike and despise more than the intelligentsia--people who consider themselves the intellectual elite of whatever society they're currently occupying.

Rather than disagree with a statement, they disparage the speaker. Rather than countering an opinion, they trivialize it. And to ensure that all recognize their elevated position they wield the putdown with masterful skill.

Want an example? One of the best, or should I say worst I've seen recently was the following:

The problem, essentially, is that Dave came into this debate late, and he's not up to speed. He's a smart guy, God knows, and as entitled to an opinion as anyone, but a lot of people have been wrestling with these things in somewhat more depth. Vague, general statements about playgrounds and bullies are merely inapt analogies, not arguments.

While I may agree with Glenn Reynolds--the owner of this statement--that Dave should not have resorted to name calling, such a coldy deliberate and condescending putdown could only have been designed to permanently undermine any opinion that Dave might have on this issue. In ivy-covered school terms since Glenn is a Yalie, Bad Form.

Dave's use of name-calling may have been inappropriate, but surely Dave at least deserves respect as a participant in a debate about an issue that impacts him.

Of course, this begs the question: do we have to respect one another? The intelligentsia would answer with a resounding "No!" However, I have found that the respect we give to those who disagree with us is largely proportional to the confidence we feel in our own arguments, and our ability to argue. And this translates into the language we use. For instance, saying "I can't reason with you on this issue", is an honest expression of frustration and implies no underlying disdain of the opponent; saying, "you're incapable of reason" is a putdown, pure and simple.

Contrary to first impression, the intelligentsia has nothing to do with being intelligent or educated or well-read. For instance, Loren from In a Dark Time is all three, and freely shares his love of poetry and books and other forms of writing in his weblog. Loren has the potential to be intimidating, yet when I leave his weblog I don't leave feeling less than what I am because I'm not as well read or as educated as Loren.

The reason why I am not intimidated by Loren's writing is that he has an ability to share greater knowledge without condescending to the reader. This ability not only takes writing skill, but also an empathy with the reader, something Loren has, but the intelligentsia can never have.

Empathy. Empathy is the true delimiter between the intelligent and the intelligentsia. If we're empathetic with others, it becomes extremely difficult to disdain, to trivialize, to putdown.

Gary awakened in me a nostalgia with his compelling description of a cold afternoon and a wait for a ride home:

She's here. One minute early, you smile and grab each other closely by the arm for warmth and then briskly walk off into the crowd telling tales of the day. Before long you'll be home, eating, living, loving, safe. Warm.

Perhaps I'm worn down a bit by the heat and humidity of my new home, but the thought of cold, brisk air appeals to me. Tonight I feel oddly homesick for the home I had in Vermont. For the home I had in San Francisco. For the home I had in Boston. For the home I had in St. Louis before things changed. For Gary's home.

Some updates:

First of all, work is progressing on ThreadNeedle. My first implementation plan had to be scraped when I found that the Redland RDF infrastructure doesn't seem to want to work on my FreeBSD machine. Additionally, the Redland Perl code also overwrote the existing Perl RDF libraries, and broke my content management system. I moved development to my J2EE environment, but I'm finding that this environment might be more of a resource hog than I can afford on my machine (you all might notice slowdowns in access at times).

However, work is progressing on it, I haven't dropped it, it's still important to me.

Second, I started an idea about a weblogging consortium, which received a great deal of commentary. I think the idea is worth at least further conversation and when I'm finished with the RDF book and ThreadNeedle, am starting this up. As per Matt's suggestion I had planned on starting a wiki on this, but a friend has been sending me suggestions for other tools, including Andy's RabbleRouser. I want to check these out, in addition to a wiki solution.

This friend, BTW, is Michael Mussington, a person who's always sending me links to fun and interesting things, particularly when I'm being battered about. If for no other reason, you weblog to meet people like Michael.

(Michel, sorry, but I just "outed" your weblog.)

For those who follow my comings and goings with such passionate interest I have news for you: this is a fact of life. Get used to it. If you have a problem with me taking some time off and taking a break or quitting or starting again, take it up with management. Add your 0.02 to the comments. Otherwise, get off my fucking back.

On to more interesting stuff: warblogging (a particularly tasty, juicy piece), Bob Dylan, XHTML or Rejection.

Today was a totally wasted day trying to get my car registered in Missouri. First there was a trip to the county assesor's to get a "property tax waiver". Next, waiting over an hour at an auto shop to get an ID/OD. Finally, this afternoon, I went into the DMV office to turn in all of the paperwork, only to be told that I need an emission inspection.

But, I told the lady at the window, I was told last week I only needed the ID/OD.

No, the lady told me, I needed to have an emission inspection.

But, I told the lady, my car's brand new.

Tough cookies, babes.

The emissions place tells me that, no, I don't need the emissions inspection; I had moved, not transferred title. So I call the DMV office and speak to a supervisor. She concurs, I don't need the inspection. The person helping me earlier today -- after waiting over 1/2 hour in line -- was confused.

If the people who work in the DMV don't know the laws and rules, how the hell do they expect the rest of us to figure them out?

So, tomorrow morning, with supervisor's name in hand, I go back and get this finished. And then I can return to working on the friggen RDF book, which is due in two weeks.

Take your hands off the keyboard, and back away slowly.

I received this advice years ago in Boston, and it always resonates within me when someone I know makes a conscious decision to spend less time at (pick one) the computer/work/the computer at work, as Jeneane did this week when she went to a part-time work schedule:

I'm worn out. And I'm doing my best to change one part of the equation that's burned out my passion. By going part time I think I can give the BEST of me to work and the BEST of me to myself and my family. It's a start anyway. One change at a time, so to speak.

Though I'm disappointed that Jeneane isn't moving to St. Louis, per a recent suggestion, I'm very glad to see her giving herself more time to spend with her family and, more importantly, herself. Time for a slow walk, a banana split, or a funny movie. Time for a bubble bath.

Everyone needs to have enough time in the day to take a bubble bath if they want. It's as essential an ingredient to living as water, air, moonlight, the scent of lavendar and sea, the touch of silk, sex, and chocolate.

My roommate received a catalog from the local community college and I decided to use some of my own bubble bath time to take a few classes. For instance, there's a class on B & W Photography that includes instruction on using the dark room. That one's a must, as is the day long photography class at one of the local parks.

And then there's the astronomy class that meets four nights at an observatory, spending hours gazing at the moon, the planets, and the stars. If that's not a good use of bubble bath time, I don't know what is.

This week I drove to an isolated park next to the Meramec River, pulling up to the river bank between the trees that overhang the area. I put favorite music into my CD player and opened all the windows of the car, letting in the steamy warmth. Leaning back against the seat, through half closed eyes I watched dragonflies playing catch-me-if-you-can among the bushes as the late afternoon sun painted the area emerald green-gold.

You can almost see the bubbles if you squint at the words hard enough.

It would seem that Sprint screwing over customers is so commonplace, there's a web site focusing on it. I give you:

SprintPCS Sucks

Best of all, good advice at this web site.

In the shallows, in soft, soft sand, you can stand very still and the little fishies will nibble at your toes.

In the shallows, in soft, soft sand, you can look down through clear, clear water and be master of all you see.

In the shallows, in soft, soft sand, you can laugh at tiny ripples of water lapping ineffectually at your ankles.

In the shallows, in soft, soft sand, you are God.

Until a big goddamn wave comes along and sucks you in, and you're pushed here and there at the mercy of energies beyond your control with Big Fishies wanting to do more than nibble at your toes in water that's murky and dark and unknown and scary and you think to yourself, "Holy shit! What just happened!?!", as your only hope is to ride along, follow the current, and stay afloat, looking for an escape...

...back to the shallows, and the soft, soft sand.

The weather is cloudy and cooler and the dewpoint has dropped so I can finally get out for a walk.

St. Louis is a lovely city situated amidst giant rivers and verdant hills containing numerous trails and paths and caverns and wonderous places to explore. As I become acclimated, I'll be able to spend more and more time on something I love: walking. And if the environment is as kind as the inhabitants, I know that I'll grow to love this place.

But I miss my beach. I miss the surf, the smell, the ocean breeze in my face. And I miss my pelicans. I desperately miss my pelicans.

I was hard at work on my newly upgraded server earlier today, installing libraries, creating databases, moving code. It was so nice to have all that room and I wasn't paying too much attention to my surroundings.

Well, my little girl, Zoe, was having none of this. First she dragged her feather in, plopping it down on my feet. When I didn't pay attention, she started clawing at my tennis shoe, batting at the lace. When that failed, she jumped up on my lap. I assumed that she was going to curl up and sleep. Instead, she laid down next to my arm, wrapped all her feet tightly around it, and placed her head across it - snuggling as close as she could get, eyes closed in pleasure.

It's hard to work with a 9 pound cat wrapped around your arm. I tried to move her and she demonstrated her displeasure at my behavior by biting me. Not hard, but with enough pressure to get her point across.

What could I do? I turned on the music and cuddled her close, looking out the window at the birds as she slept in my arms, head nestled into the crook of my elbow.

Don't you wish, when faced with friends and family who are "too busy", that we could crawl up on their laps, wrap our bodies around them, and bite them when they don't get the hint?

I think we lost too much when we got an opposable thumb and started learning how to communicate complex thoughts.

After a week of trying to get DSL setup and having it work for exactly one day; and after a week of Earthlink not returning calls or following through on promised actions, I'm throwing in the towel. Unfortunately, it doesn't look as if any other DSL carriers serve my particular area, though I'll call Southwest Bell/SBC tomorrow and hope for the best.

I guess the next step is to check out cable modems.

On the bright side, the complex where the townhouse is located has a lovely group of white-tailed bunnies, racoons that get stuck in the dumpsters - and a rabid, vicious cricket that trapped me in the laundery room today.

Feeling MUCH better today after massive amounts of sleep time yesterday. I can't remember the last time I felt so tired.

Today is a day of changing addresses at various creditors, as well as getting new cell phone number. Hopefully I'll also get DSL working (I would not have gone with Earthlink for broadband access but didn't have a lot of options in the area).

I joined the St. Louis Bloggers site that Ben maintains - a very nice site. However, I stated that I live in St. Louis directly when I believe I may live in Jefferson county.

Missouri really is a beautiful, green, lush state. I want to begin my acquaintance with my new home by exploring the cave systems in the state, at least until the heat and humidity drop a bit so that I can begin exploring the many, many paths and trails. Hopefully, I can also look into kayaking the rivers.

I don't feel at home in a new place until I've explored it a bit, walked it's soil, tread it's waters, breathed its air.

I arrived in St. Louis last night at dusk to be met with an apartment building surrounded by fireflies. That's something you won't see in San Francisco, and most other places that don't have higher humidity.

One can suffer higher temperature and humidity for a nightly show of fireflies.

Still tired from trip today, though the drive yesterday was pleasant - just too long. Tried to get my DSL setup this afternoon only to find that Earthlink has a major DSL failure in the area. Perhaps the thunderstorm earlier in the day.

All I've wanted to do today is sleep, and since I can't post and sleep at the same time, guess I'll keep this post short. Tomorrow hopefully both the DSL and I will be charged up and ready to go.

Short trip today - Salt Lake to Cheyenne, Wyoming. Uneventful day on the road. Still feeling rough from last week, aided and abetted by memory lane trip yesterday. I look and feel like I've been rode hard and put away wet.

Tomorrow, pushing through to St. Louis. Rah.

So many people have been doing "series blogging" lately, such as Mark Pilgrim's 30 days to accessibility, and Jonathon's World Cup reportage. I thought I would give this a shot by creating a series of postings on one central theme:

The Bird's Tips to Becoming a Good American

No, seriously. In fact, I'd start tonight, but my connectivity is poor and I'll need bandwidth for my first tip: "Verbal Weaponry in the War against Terrorism". No hints other than it will be action packed. Be prepared to take notes.

I hope that Mark and Jonathon don't mind me stealing their series concept. Mark seems cool, and we know Jonathon has a sense of humor - all people who live in a relaxed, squishy world have a sense of humor.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go hang out at Mike Golby's place - he's talking sex.

(BTW, Mike, I looked all over at Phil's for a Sex Fixit FAQ but all I could find was weblogging stuff. Darn.)

I checked and it's only 85 degrees and 20% humidity outside - St. Louis is 91 and 41% humidity. I'm going to die. I just know I'm going to die. I'm going to hit the sidewalk there and my toes are going to curl up and I'll start melting into this puddle of goo, plaintively calling out "I'm melting. I'm melting."

Allan posted a link to a cartoon send up of webloggers. Okay, I squirmed a bit with this 'toon. I must write more in-depth political essays of the essentialness of the American experience, and our war on terror. And must weblog about sex more. Not today, though. I'm tired, and have a headache.

This is fun: AKMA, Wonder Chicken, and Rageboy have been given parts in a re-make of Dune. AKMA stars as Dr. Yueh, Wonder Chicken is Jamis, and Chris Locke is The Beast Rabban. Of course, now that they're all big names and stars they won't be socializing with the little people. We can kiss off the cozy meetings over coffee on Tuesdays, the Saturday socials.

Sheila Lennon writes about a byline strike at the Providence Journal, the Washington Post, Canadian publications and elsewhere. Article writers are withholding their bylines from stories in protest about not having a contract between their various Newspaper Guilds and the publications they write for.

This is an interesting protest because writers like to be given credit for their publications. I support the writers - of course - but wouldn't a better strike be to not write for the publication at all?

Shannon's a Godmother of a new baby girl, Charlotte. Can't ask for a better nanny to sing one to sleep can one?

Hmmm. That last sentence was meant as a compliment. You all took that as a compliment, didn't you?

And chocorate. I like chocorate.

I'm burnt to a crisp and have little to offer. No new whimsey such as the Tim Tam Scandal. No metablogging about journalism. And especially, no fighting the good fight.

(Not to mention that I'm faced with two immediate book deadlines.)

So, Forgive me, but I'm taking a short break.

In the meantime, there are excellent postings that follow through on the weblogger as journalist posting, including Jonathon's: Just Say No and Dorothea's Blogs and Journalism. And a Dave Winer survey.

There's also excellent material related directly or indirectly to the Blog Burst posting (see Allan and Mike Golby).

(Update: Congratulations to AKMA on reaching tenure! Now that you're safe, BibleBoy, why don't you bring in a Navajo shaman to perform a Blessing Way on your office. Take that tenure out for a spin.)

Yesterday, instead of talking about the Blog Burst, perhaps I should have started a Blog Build instead - bringing together webloggers who see no shame in wanting to find the truth, to understand all sides, who aren't interested in fixing blame, and who want to find a peace that's not bought at the end of a gun or within the trigger of a bomb.

Wait a sec. I already have. And they're listed to the left.

When reasonable people remain silent, only the mad and the foolish are heard.

Ta.

AKMA writes on forgiveness:

When I say, "Forgive me," I mean something different from "Let's pretend it never happened," or "It doesn't matter," or "Just drop it." "Forgiving" certainly doesn't entail forgetting, or discounting; it may be the only way to take an offense with adequate seriousness. Forgiving entails recognizing a wrong, looking at it clearly and honestly, assessing responsibility for it, and resolving not to permit that wrong to determine our lives from thence forward.

I'm taking this to heart. I truly am.

Therefore AKMA, I forgive you for not blindly taking my side on the Bird vs. Lemur fight, and for disagreeing with me about realtime blogging when everyone knows that webloggers have cats. Or something.

Just don't ever do it again.

This also from *Jonathon: Norwegian Book ClubsTop 100 books of all time

I was pleased and frankly astonished to realize how many of the books on this list I've read. I don't consider myself one of the more literate members of my virtual weblogging neighborhood. I read constantly, but I don't seem to read the same books as most of my neighbors.

However, it would seem that I do have similar reading habits as the Book Club. I wonder, does this make me more literate? Or them less?

* I almost posted a third link to Mr. Delacour's weblog today, to the Cuckoo story. However, my supply of Tim Tams is running low and if he wants triple linking, he'll have to pay up.

In debate, when your opponent is reduced to attacking your character rather than your words, you know you've won.

I should have remembered this yesterday when I became so angry. Blame my reaction a bit on the move. And the fact that I'm not called Burningbird because I coo like a dove.

I had a note from Sheila Lennon from projo.com, who wrote up a nice summary of the realtime blogging phenomena. I particularly like:

An image arises of tourists who photograph everything but experience little of what they record. They collect the present, rather than create it.

I do not like using technology just to use it. I don't like seeing good technology being badly or inappropriately used. And I don't approve of mediocre technology given prominance because a group of people dance up and down, clapping their little techie hands together in abandoned glee over a new toy.

And when I write about the technology and its use or misuse, and you respond by writing about me, I will always win, and you will always lose.

Coo. Coo.

Today is a lovely, stormy day in Northern California, with enough rain to clean the air and the streets. Dark, forbidding clouds obscure the shore across the Bay, and the sun is just now starting to fight its way through the overcast; glints of gold melting into the pewter pools of water on the street.

Days such as today are built for introspection and reflection.

I am leaving San Francisco. On June 20th, movers will come to my apartment and grab my carefully packed belongings, moving them to a storage unit near my home. Home. At that point this place will no longer be my home.

I will then get in Golden Girl, my trusty metal steed, and ride her into the sunrise; riding into the sunset would put me into the Pacific Ocean and though Golden Girl is a dream on the road, she'll sink like a brick in the water.

When I leave I will spend several weeks on the road, visiting friends in the Pacific Northwest, in New England, and in points between. When the urge to stop finally hits I'll make my temporary residence in St. Louis, staying with my closest friend who also happens to be my ex-husband.

Not many people count on their ex-spouses to help them in time of need. That I can speaks of a relationship that started in love and ended in deep friendship. Though the friendship wasn't enough to sustain a marriage, it is enough to sustain our closeness.

In St. Louis I will continue to write, look for work, and search for new adventures. I think I'll try tornado chasing.

I'll also focus on implementing the tecnologies I've been dreaming of this last year, but haven't completed; being too caught up in life and this weblog and various other assorted things of interest only to myself.

I leave most of my belongings behind me in Bagdad-by-the-Bay. A woman marking her territory; a statement saying, "I will return".

It starts with an Argentinian ant invasion. While I was waiting for the exterminator this morning, I received a phone call from another weblogger. Lovely voice. Witty conversation. Wonderful surprise.

Just as I'm hanging up the phone, the exterminator came and after I showed her where the little buggers were entering my home, I took off to let her do her thing.

Normally I walk along Crissy Fields in the evening, but today was too nice to stay inside. As I was walking along the beach I watched the pelicans fishing just offshore.

Pelicans are my favorite bird. They look as if they couldn't fly more than a few feet, but I've seen them fly into gale force winds with barely a struggle. And their landing! They circle lower and lower, than a quick crashing dive bomb into the water, splashing water high into the air -- absolutely no subtlety in their movements. Fearless.

Pelicans are almost completely indifferent to humanity. They're neither overly impacted by nor all that dependent on us. For the most part, they just ignore us. They're large enough to have few predators, and aggressive enough to ensure they get what they need to survive. A truly beautiful, arrogant bird.

So this morning I walked along the beach with the wind in my hair and the sun in my face, watching the pelicans exhibit their mastery over water and air -- truly king over all they fly.

Damn!

I didn't know sharks got that big in the Bay...

I've had a couple of weblogging buddies ask me where I'm thinking of moving to. The honest answer is, I have no idea. I'll have to give notice at my apartment the first of June, and move by end of July. That's as far as I've gotten.

I'd rather spend my time writing or walking or taking pictures or playing with technology or driving Golden Girl around the countryside. I'm in the mood of leaving the thinking to others most likely wiser than me at this time.

However, I only have a few weeks to make a decision so I need to get going. I could use the scientific method of sticking a map on the wall and shooting a dart at it, but with my luck it would continue hitting San Francisco. Or Antarctica. Or my butt.

Here's a new one for weblogging -- in 20 words or less, where should I go and why? And please, no answers of "...to hell". I did that already when I went through puberty.

Winner gets an autographed copy of the weblogging book when it comes out. See, a prize. Only the best from Burningbird for my friends.

If you've read this weblog for any length of time than you know I'm rather partial to San Francisco.

Unfortunately, it looks like I'll be having to move. San Francisco is now known as the most expensive city in the US. It's also a place where every technical contracting postion has 200+ applicants. These two facts aren't necessarily mutually compatible.

What a bitch.

I could be more eloquent, but "what a bitch" sums up the situation quite nicely.

There is nothing more implacable than a decision waiting to be made.

It can shake you out of sleep, pulling the covers off, forcing you out of bed and to your feet. It can hover around you during your waking hours, beating at you with tiny, subliminal fists of frustration.

As time passes the decision grows and swells and bulges and puffs out and enlarges and stretches and expands. Your attempts to fend it off become weaker as it smothers you in it's soft folds, pushes you against the wall, rolls over you as you try to run.

Poets write of Decision. In The Road Not Taken Frost wrote:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler

The poem ends with "...and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

In this poem Frost sees Decision as noble -- Man choosing to follow his own path rather than following the crowd. Compare this to Dorothy Parker's caustic and brutally direct 'Resumé:

Razors pain you; Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful; Nooses give;
Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

No nobility here -- life as a lesser of evils.

Not all decisions are the same. Whether to choose strawberry ice cream or chocolate is but a moment's thought; after all, one can choose chocolate tomorrow when choosing strawberry today. There are an infinite number of these decisions made in a life; exercise to keep your decision making capabilities from getting flabby from disuse.

Some decisions can only be made after sleepless nights and days spent in thought, little scales in your mind working overtime. To have a child or not. To marry or not. To make this move, buy this house, take this job, follow this path. Or not.

Regardless of the magnitude or its impact, once the the decision is made, you're free of the weight, the monster has rolled on. This leaves plenty of room for Decision's younger brother, Regret.

A couple of things popped up while I was out of touch yesterday.

First of all, my Australia friends sent me some Tim Tams! Very sweet of them and can't wait to finally try these delectable treats. When I receive them, I'll post my review. In addition, the Australian delegation also sent me a card (ala Mr. Delacour).

Thanks guys -- you're the best! What can I say but Australian women are very lucky!!

Secondly, there was an article about weblogging in a publication edited by someone I know. The article is Is there a Blog in your Future, and the publication is Idea Idee -- a webzine geared for techie women (Canadian based, but open for all). Check it out.

In the next few weeks I'm going to be off and on with the weblog, posting erratically. Since I usually am fairly consistent with posting daily, multiple posts in a day, I just thought I would give y'all a heads up.

That's it. Thanks.

According to Dictionary.com, triangulation is:

The location of an unknown point, as in navigation, by the formation of a triangle having the unknown point and two known points as the vertices.

When I studied history in college I had a college professor tell me that the only way to discover the truth behind an event is to read three completely different interpretations of the same event. Somewhere in the middle of all these interpretations, you'll find the truth.

Unfortunately, it's all too easy to only listen to one viewpoint, one interpretation; listening to those who are like minded and speak with one voice is less disruptive than seeking the truth.

Now if you think we're going to have Australia Day without a discussion of Vegemite, you're off your nut.

Ah, that glutinous, shimmery, black ooze of health. According to Vegemite Central, Vegemite is not like peanut butter; you don't want to eat it with a spoon directly from the jar. However, you can make a vegemite milkshake.

Sick. Really sick.

was just joking about Garth being a fan of Starbuck's. As he has said in his weblog -- he's not overly fond of American coffee. Okay, Aussies -- what exactly is wrong with American coffee? Too strong? Weak? Bitter?

Anyway, Garth is another techie who has reverse engineered and tinkered with the technology behind Radio. His Radio weblog tag line is "If Radio is a platform, it's a platform on which typing 'ps' crashes the system entirely". I'll have to try this.

Garth is also getting married to a young woman named Zoe. It sounds as if they may be having a fairly significant wedding (details, Garth, details!)

A little Google snooping shows that Garth is into open source, FreeBSD, and EFF (I knew I liked him). In fact, I'm finding that Garth's weblog is really the tip to this particular iceberg -- to get to know Garth better, look for him in Google.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find a photo. These shy webloggers.

Good Morning Garth! Have a cup of coffee on me!

Australia has six states and two mainland territories in addition to several island territories.

Of the states, Tasmania (home of Allan Moult) is known as the Down Under Down Under due to its location beneath the Australian mainland. Allan, is your home really as beautiful as the photos show? I am green with envy.

Jonathon, Garth, Victor, and zem all live in New South Wales home to Sydney, considered one of the most beautiful Bay cities in the world.

Victoria is in the southern part of the continent and is the home state for Melbourne, a sophisticated gateway to scenic ocean vistas, deserts, and mountains. Tom lives in Victoria.

The other states are Western Australia, South Australia, and Queensland.

I figured with this much to see, when I finally take my long desired trip to Australia, I'll have to stay for at least three months (visa length). What a beautiful country.

Allan's weblog, G'Day Cobbers weblog is a treasure I discovered not long after he started. I was attracted to Allan's photographs first -- he is an extremely accomplished professional photographer -- and then stayed for his humor and his interest in all things eclectic.

Of course, when I found out that Allan was from Tasmania, the Down Under of Down Under, well, I knew this was the beginning of a long and rewarding friendship.

My particular favorite postings of Allan's have to do with Dizzy, the infamous office cat from hell who became Allan's close friend. However, I have also appreciated Allan's Dreamtime Story and the attack of the Spamming Politician among many other toothsome stories.

Allan has published books on gardening, travel, and craft in addition to his photography and web site design. Personally, I think Allan should put his hand to writing a novel. Something based in Australia and sexy ;-)

I would link to a photo I had found of Allan, but I slipped about finding it to him and he must have snuck out and pulled it. Too bad, because I thought it was a great photo of a man with a terrific smile and a love of life and the outdoors. I knew I should have copied it to my web site for future reference...

Say G'Day to Allan!

Tom appeared first in comments, later in a Radio weblog called xio. If you've hung around Burningbird for long then you know Tom and know that he is not the most shy person in the block. No, I wouldn't call Tom shy at all.

As with so many other webloggers I seem to know, Tom is another techie. Snooping around his various web sites, I also found out that he is yet another weblogging cat fan, as witness his photo of Grizzie. You can also see various photos of Tom through the ages at a personal history page. By the way, I liked the beard.

I have never found Tom to add a comment to any of my and other weblogger postings that wasn't challenging, to say the least. In particular, he has very strong views of feminism, including a recent posting at his own weblog on the subject that hints at past experiences with women that haven't been all that pleasant. However, Tom has never been anything but friendly to me. He may not always agree with me, but he never attacks me personally, and always has a kind word for me when I'm a little down.

Interesting fact: One thing I noticed when looking at Tom's business site is how many of "us" within this particular weblogging circle are independent. In fact, I think the majority of webloggers I know either have their own company, work for themselves, or have a business on the side.

Take a moment and say hi to Tom!