There was lunching with Lizards and Jais today! We went to the Bear Tooth and had burrito things, and *wow* does Liz look fantastic. She’s down to her high school weight and seems really happy. Yay! So it was a lot of fun. *beam*

And tomorrow night her family is having a Christmas party to which we are invited and should go!

Oh, I forgot to mention the weirdly alarming dream I had this morning wherein … well, it was complicated, but one of the particularly weird bits was that I seemed to be having a love child with Miss Parker, from The Pretender. Later she turned into Buffy, but we still had a two year old girl child. It was extremely bizarre.

I also dreamed that my cousin Rory was terribly swamped and that I swam out to rescue him, which made me feel like I should email him when I woke up, so I did, and indeed, finals at law school end next week, and he says, “Your dream is my nightmare. I am swamped with work.”

I also dreamed about my Uncle Hughie, who died in March. He was sad. It’s the first time I’ve ever dreamed about one of my dead friends or relatives and they’ve been sad. I think he missed us. I don’t think he was ready to die.

Well, Anthem launched (you don’t have to go look, it’s not very exciting. pretty, though), against all odds. My coworker Barbara (whose page I would like to if I knew where/if it existed (I suppose I could ask her, couldn’t I?) (ah, here we go: spideyblue.com, although Babs says it’s a mess)) is to be vastly commended, for she did the whole damned site in under three weeks, bug fixes and all.

I think I’m going to lunch today with Jai and maybe Liz. That’ll be nice. :)

I wish I knew what the hell was going on with my email. It’s — sure, now that I’ve said that, it appears that the mizkit@mizkit.com address is working pretty well, and it appeared that kit@mizkit.com was also getting to me. Nevermind. o.O

anyway! My eskimo.com address is going away as of Saturday! Do not use it anymore! Email me at mizkit.com! Thank you, and goodnight!

My first usenet post:

From: fscem1@acad3.alaska.edu

Subject: ElfQuest

Newsgroup: rec.arts.comics

Date: 1991-03-11 23:18:05 PST

I just went through the entire list of titles in the rec.comic thinger, and from that, I must assume there are no other screaming ElfQuest fans running around. I’m not a big comic reader, although I pick them up sometimes – ElfQuest is my downfall. Is there anyone else out there who’s with me????

I cringe, or something. :) There are simply some things that should not be recorded for posterity. :)

It is very frustrating to be unable to create what your insides want you to create.

I’m very good with words. I’m passable with drawing. I’m bearable with web design. I was good enough at photography to get both a scholarship and a professional job for it (although the linked stuff is nothing but snapshots and I don’t consider it to be Real Photography).

So why does it make my chest hurt with frustration when I look at Powazek.com or NoahGrey.com or JimFormation? (And why are virtually all the sites I admire designed by men?) Maybe it’s not the design. Maybe it’s the content. Maybe they’re doing something I want to be doing. Maybe this is related to the Web Design Weight Loss Plan. Maybe my tiny little brain thinks that if I could come up with the Perfect Design, I would suddenly have the content and projects and photographs that I envy at other sites.

Well, okay, I’m not lacking in content. It’s the projects (Fray, SF Stories, Photo.net). And the photographs. These are people I want to be like (even if Trip thinks the Fray is pretentious. He’s probably right. I’m not sure that’s the point, though. I think the point is that one way or another I find these sorts of people to be inspiring, but then I flail uselessly and fail to be inspired in any sort of *useful* direction).

I dunno. Maybe I need to work more extensively on On Your Left, which is currently malingering, as is every OTHER thing I should be working on. Including my novel.

In other words, get my head out of my ass and actively work on my stuff instead of making a lot of excuses. *wry look*