You know how you can put something out of your head and simultaneously forget all about it and swear that you were just working on it a few days ago?
That’s what happened with my website. I look back at how long it’s been since I updated it, and I think, “How is that possible?”
Sure, some of that delay has had to do with Life Changes (blog post about that forthcoming), but mostly it’s just that I spent several years in denial about where my geek cred ends. I’m no codemonkey, folks. I know some basic HTML, but that’s not enough to get somebody through a ground-up WordPress installation. Especially when that somebody is prone to staring out the window, lost in thought about robots and sweaty chests and the limitations of artificial intelligence and whether ghosts know they’re sexy.
“mod_rewrite” and “.htmaccess” are the kinds of terms I like to drop into stories to enhance the general mood of coding badassery. They are not terms for anything I actually understand how to do. It took me about two weeks, a bottle of vodka, and numerous crying jags to get Pretty Permalinks installed. That should have been my warning sign that self-installed WordPress wasn’t for me, but instead I just felt INVESTED NOW, DAMNIT, and refused to give up. Or, you know, work on it any longer, because it made me cry and drink and invent new cuss words.
Now. Back in the day, before the servers were robust and the ice weasels came and we all fragmented to the eighteen nomad tribes of social networking, LiveJournal was awesome. I loved figuring out what my cut text would be and all that jazz. It isn’t that I hate blogging or updating website content. It’s that I can’t do it from the ground up and still have any time or brainspace left over to do things to blog or update about.
So this is my shiny new WYSIWYG jam. I’ll be adding features and content and stuff nice and slow, at whatever rate I can achieve in between woolgathering moments and drafting hours. Once it’s good and pretty, I’ll move it over to my own URL to replace the outdated website lurking there, and no one but you will ever know that I once thought I could code all the things.