So then. It's been a while. Cobwebs seem to be the trappings of the .meic webserver, a thin layer of dust upon each canvas in the galleries, rust in the workings of the editorial typewriter, a still-vacant apps section, only the ghosts of the distant past tread these sombre corridors. But wait! Back, returned from a testing term of university, filled to the brim with procrastination and pool (assuming they're not entirely the same thing), come I, progenitor of the mundane menagerie you find before you now. Afire with a new-found zeal for a new-found holiday, it is on this day, friends, that I begin to plot the doom of our Nemesis. They, who represent all that is wrong with this once proud nation. They, who would seek to undo us and our glory. They, the great darkness fallen upon our fine light. They, the blight of the B&Q grout and tiling adhesive isle: UniBond.
Well, routine apologies are in order for my now common-place editorial laxity, but I'm at home now, rather than uni, so with much more free time, I feel far less inclined to fill it with Doing Things. So far today, I have not done much - I woke up [after at least 'several' hours sleep, which is a nice change of pace from my recent tallies of 'little or no'], looked at my ceiling for a bit, went to sleep again, woke up properly at 9 o'clock or so, and found I had post from Sidney Sussex, which turned out to be this week's copy of New Scientist, to which I am subscribed, but they just bunged in my pigeon-hole last term, so I'm a little unsure as to why they're posting them to me this term (hopefully it's because something really big and fun is filling my pigeon-hole at uni, so they can't fit anything else in, though this seems unlikely), after leafing through that I had a hot mint-chocolate, then did a little light maths revision, then had a croissant, then had a shower in which I thought of various things, as I am wont to do, including but not limitted to a witty eulogy for a very much alive friend (goodness knows why) and what follows below. So, today, I think I shall bestow upon the interweb a small collection of gubbins, with no particular rhyme or reason, other than I just thought of all of them in the shower, just now.
Firstly, I think that may be the first time I've ever written the word 'twelfth'. Well, actually, that's almost certainly a lie (it's the day-of-the-month of my birth, after all), but none the less, I did have to stop and wonder if I'd spelled it right. I mean, -lfth isn't the most common of suffixes, so I wasn't sure I'd not made it up. I don't pronounce the f, see, so I was pondering twelth, but that seems too short. Humm. Cambridge Dictionaries agree that it's 'twelfth', but also think the f is pronounced. Ho hum, I bow to the greater knowledge of my academic institution's vast printing press arm. Though I'm not sure how it compares to the OUP. OUP certainly does more medical texts, and the OED's the standard dictionary, and apparently OUP does more philosophical stuff than CUP. I should probably know about compsci books, but, frankly, I've not really read many, and I didn't notice who published them. Hum, of the three I own, only one is CUP, and that's written by a lecturer here (I saw some people get said book signed by said lecturer. I refrained.), so maybe he's obliged to use 'em, or something.
Now, I realise it's been a long time since I last did on o' these here editorials, but I should like to take this opportunity to direct my readership (yes, both of you) to .home section which clearly answers the question "When is .meic?" You were forewarned, and have no grounds for appeal. Welcome to my world. [By which I mean, I am autocrat of .meic, not that I am continually disappointed by the lax updating rigour of various obscure but potentially awesome not-blogs. Just so we're clear.] So, in the gap since I forgot what I was going to say and now, there's been a lot of things I meant to .meicise (.meicate?), but then didn't find time for, and have subsequently forgotten. Again. Ho hum. So, what follows is a tawdry facsimile of what could have been, but, never mind, eh? Better than nothing. Well, maybe. 's probably better than, say, oo, a stroke. The bad kind, I mean.
Oh, stiddleficks. I'd gone and put in the effort and everything. All day, I'd been waiting. Watchful for a notable but mundane event; alert to the semi-private mutterings of any passers by on the street - particularly those with unnerving facial ticks; insatiable, and perhaps unslakable if it's a word, in my quest to find Something To Talk About. And then, quietly, discreetly, and in no way obtrusively, something happened, and some small part of my brain put the memory aside for later use. It would seem, however, that, somewhat inevitably, it has been stored somewhere so safe that I can't remember what it is. Oh, imagine, if you will, my sorrow, my grief no less, gentle reader. I am, I would say, perturbed. Yes, this is definitely perturbing, and, perhaps, irksome, though I would not yet go as so far as to say I am vexed. And yet at the same time I feel sympathy and guilt; I know the bitter, stinging pain of the disappointment you must be feeling now, and I am shamed by it. How eager you must have been, spirits lifted, to see a fifth instalment in the Chronicals of .Me, only to find your mood mercilessly dashed by my diminutive mental capacity.
Uh. Well, I guess it didn't take long for me to get lax in updating this, then. But, in fairness, I've been Actually Quite Busy. I have been undergoing the gruelling process of Education. And pool-in-the-bar. Well. I think I meant to be learning things, anyway. Like, the practical application of physics in putting really effective side spin on the cue ball, or sharpening my numeracy skills by ordering the correct amount of bar snacks as to always end up with a 20p in the change (to further fund my Education on the Table). No, wait, like stuff about impedance and inductance and CMOS and line integrals and Java. Which is almost as fun. !!. Yes, yes I am lying; it's all really quite dull.
Ack. I've done it, then. The blue's bitten the dust. It might come back, though. I'm still all undecided. But, for the moment at least, sandycreamycoffeewhatever colours are the order of the day. If I work out a way of wangling it so you can switch between 'em, that'd be good, as I think I mentioned yesterday. It's serpinktly something to consider. I've also jazzed up the error pages, so they all have header images. Well, 400, 401, 403, 404 and 500 do, anyway. All the pages are formulaic and uninteresting, but at least now they look pretty. Although maybe not quite so pretty as in blue. Hrm, decisions decisions.
Well, it's off to a promising start for .meic with a nice four day space 'twixt the first two entries. Although it does now contain an instance of the word 'twixt, so it can't be all bad. All it needs now it an increase in the frequency of 'gusto' and 'alas', and we'll be all set for a good old-fashioned underused-words-revival-campaign. Spiffy. I'm also quite a fan of 'brillig', but it seems quite hard to slip into conversation
I've never kept a diary, and I don't intend to start now. Which is why I've decided to record aspects of my day in a sort of archive. Contradictory though this may sound, I hope it isn't, or this whole idea is deeply flawed and will just end up as yet another pointless drop in the blog ocean, or yet another empty site on an Internet of wasted space. Y'see, the idea is that I include some detail from my recent life, and then actually talk about it, with tangents aplenty. As far as I can see, this is different from a blog, because my aim here isn't to just chronicle the important parts of my day with no analysis or further input. No, rather the opposite; the important bits of my day I'll probably keep to myself. Because, as a user of this great and glorious Internet, you're no doubt some kind of mentally unstable social deviant who'd love nothing more than to gain some kind of perverse pleasure from learning of the intricacies of my life. Well I'm not going to give you that opportunity, okay, freak? Unless you're particularly interested in things like 'the day I burned my toast'.