2. One of the reasons why I haven't been writing here as much is that I am trying to wrap my brain around two distinctly different talks I am giving at BlissDom Canada and Salon LGBTQ two weeks apart in October. In one I'm going to be talking about, or at least somewhat about, the dangers of the comparison trap when it comes to blogging, and in the other I am going to be talking about, or at least somewhat about, the gift of being queer at this particular point in history at the dawn of social media.
My heart is fancy dancing bom-bom-bom up and down my ribcage.
3. I'm doing that thing I do every fall where I freak out about my future and become quite certain that I will die penniless and holed up in the back of the only inhabitable room left in my house. I am not sure where I get this idea, because I don't think the Palinode would stand for it. Plus, I would at least have to get up to feed the cats and scoop their litter, because I could never let the kitties wallow in filth like hungry rats. Also, I am quite certain that I like life enough to avoid building myself a people nest out of food cartons and cat hair.
To stave off my clockwork fall- and winter-induced certainty that I will descend into a pitiable old age, I am being proactive and have already started sitting in front of my full spectrum lamp every morning. I won't become a shut-in, at least this winter.
4. I watched 1986's Pretty In Pink tonight, and it turns out that I am now seven or eight years older than Annie Potts' character, Iona, was supposed to be in the movie. It just felt weird to watch this character that I used to think was so old and to see now that she was barely middle-aged at the time, and then also to realize that I graduated from high school way back when Tim Berners-Lee was just laying the foundation for the World Wide Web with the creation of the first web server and, holy crap, I'm old enough to have stories about olden times.
I am not particularly panicked about ageing. Death, mind you, wakes me up in the middle of night with cold sweats, but turning into an old person doesn't worry me too terribly. It's just weird to all-of-a-sudden know it's happening just as you are simultaneously re-experiencing your fourteen-year-old self and feeling like it was just yesterday that you used to flick the elastics from your braces across the table at your little brother while your parents said grace over supper.
5. Last night in my dreams, I linked people together using HTML and fixed up irritating design details in my surroundings with CSS.
I'm sorry, Reality. I'll let you go about your business without sneaking in the back door all creepy like, even if I prefer the walls to be #bfddde rather than #be5171.