Blur
Boys and Girls, 1994.

Sorry to talk about the weather again, but I’m just too damned tired to talk about my day, which was as intense as it was soggy. I was under the seven inches of rain in Greensboro today rather than the four in Winston-Salem. And I mean that literally, as I walked pretty much from one end of UNCG to the other several times.

Mark’s back in San Francisco now, and I’m all by myself again, wishing we could enjoy the rain and the gloom together. Over the weekend, there was pizza in High Point on Saturday (about which I had an interesting post written before it got destroyed), grilled pork on Sunday, and the traditional Monday morning breakfast at the Lighthouse. Mark has also now joined me in PHP-dom following his disgust with iWeb. It’s sad that Apple is doing such a sloppy job with what should be its showcase applications.

I’m pretty impressed that I’ve already migrated over all my journal entries dating back to 2006. I still have some cleanup to do, fixing internal links, etc., but it’s not taking nearly as long as I expected. I should have done this a long time ago.

Of course, things are starting to get a little crazy again now that classes have started. I’m doing the big graduate assistant thing, and have assumed control of the department’s website. I may also take another job working on a digitization project for the university archives if I can get permission. It should be interesting, even if it doesn’t pay much. Slave labor is, of course, the most efficient way to build one’s resume, right?

Speaking of the resume, a quick update this morning before I went to the dentist was apparently enough to secure me this extra position, despite my misgivings. It’s amazing how excited librarians and archivists get when you mention that you have web design experience. Maybe I will end up getting a decent job once all this is done.

Back to work now. The defintion of work gets hazy when you do 90% of it home.

Sex Execs
My Ex (1984).

I didn’t even know there was a video for this song. Wish the video and audio were a little better synchronized, though.

Starbuck
Moonlight Feels Right, 1976.

I used to hate it when bands lip-synched on TV shows. I think this one is a case where it might not have been such a bad idea, though. If you want to hear it like it’s supposed to sound, check this out.

Maybe I’m hopelessly out of it, but when did the London Times switch from a broadsheet to a tabloid ? Almost four years ago, apparently.  I’m surprised I missed that.

Last night was one of those nights where the sleeping was not good. There was nothing really the matter other than the fact that I worked too late and didn’t give myself enough time to gear down before going to bed. Alas, it’s a busy time of the year for me, and I didn’t make things any better by deciding out of the blue that this week was also a great time to re-work this site.

I have a meeting this afternoon in Greensboro on how to be the world’s oldest graduate assistant, and Thursday and Friday are set aside to get prepared for the exciting fall season on MyNetworkTV and The CW so that I can turn my attention to the hubby when he returns on Friday afternoon. No weekend plans as such, other than some nuzzling and maybe playing with our databases.

Randomly in the news:

• Apparently, a collection of college leaders believe that 18-year-olds should be given the right to drink again. I agree, in general, simply because I don’t really understand why 21 is the “magic number” where drinking suddenly becomes OK. If one is an adult for all other purposes at age 18, why not for boozing purposes as well? Yes, I understand the argument that raising the drinking age to 21 prevents some traffic deaths. Raising it to 37 would prevent even more, but no one’s suggesting that. I do not, however, buy the argument that we should do it simply because college students are ignoring the current law; there are plenty of good reasons to lower the drinking age, but that ain’t one of them.
• Some community leaders are pushing to have Winston-Salem ban sagging pants. I’m with them all the way on an aesthetic level, really, but there remain those nagging questions of Constitutionality and appropriateness. As long as we’re banning clothing just because people don’t like it, how about including ugly shoes (a specialty of the current decade) and really stupid-looking facial hair?
• Wow. Imagine this: holding the people who committed the crime responsible for its consequences rather than fining the victims. What a radical idea.

.

Icicle Works
Whisper to a Scream, 1984.

Your exciting new Otherstream. Please try to contain your enthusiasm.

For your reference, particularly the nerdly among you, posts from 1 January 2008 to now are all in the database. Previous posts and much of the rest of the content are still in HTML format, but I’ve constructed a spiffy new page template based on the PHP template, so everything pretty much works the same. Some of the old content will be a bit buggy until I get the whole site transferred over (which may take a couple of weeks or a couple of months). Also, most URLS for pages other than the front page will eventually change.

The “Archives” and “Categories” menus on the right only cover items that have been imported into the database. They’ll obviously grow as I migrate more content.

Otherstream now has a nifty RSS feed and category tags and everything, bringing me completely up to date. 2002, to be precise. I haven’t decided about comments yet.I tried them during Planet SOMA’s brief PHP phase, and the spam outneumbered the legitimate posts by about fifty to one, so I’m not usre how tolerant I can be. Let me know if you have a strong opinion on the subject.

Enjoy.

RSS aggregators beware: Otherstream is about to move forcefully into 2002, leaving the static HTML world behind and transitioning headlong into the world of PHP, SQL, XML, and all those other acronyms. I’ve been avoiding it for years, despite managing numerous oher sites in database format, just because the mere idea of cutting and pasting twelve years of this site into a new format gave me the vapors. But it’s time. More soon.