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Every once in a while, I like to see what search terms bring folks here. As is often the case, 9 out of every 10 visitors come here by accident. These poor people were led astray by the God of Search Engines (a.k.a. Google). Feeling partially responsible for their predicament, I believe it's necessary to redeem myself occasionally and get them back on the right track. As I did last time, I have kept the queries intact, but have changed the names and places to make this feel more like an informal question and answer session. To the queries...

Alexander B. from Scotland wonders, "what are those devices everyone is wearing on their ears little phones or mp3 players?"

Contrary to popular belief, Alexander, those little devices you see people wearing aren't for talking on the phone or for listening to music. While euphemistically referred to as Bluetooth technology, they are actually the latest in brain seepage prevention technology. If they don't wear it, things can get very messy, very fast. If you see somebody wearing such a device, remember, don't stare or make fun. The individual doesn't deserve your contempt, he or she deserves your sympathy and understanding.

Craig B. from Texas wants to know, "who hit robby thompson in the face with a pitch?"

This is an easy one, Craig. According to this article, the culprit who hit Robby Thompson and broke his cheekbone was Trevor Hoffman.

E. Robertson from Ontario wants to know, "how do i get rid of unwanted pictures in my shoebox".

Here are my Top 5 recommended ways of getting rid of unwanted pictures in a shoe box (mp3), in order of preference:

1. shredding
2. tossing
3. burning
4. burying
5. regifting

Diophantus of Alexandria queries, "shelby has eight fewer dimes than pennies and nineteen fewer dimes than nickels shelby has a total of $3.75 how many of each coin does she have?"

Diophantus, I'm not going to give you the final answer, although I'm sure it's out there on the web somewhere. Instead, I'll quickly walk you through how I would solve it...

1. First, I establish my variables: p for the number of pennies Shelby has, n for nickels, and d for dimes.

2. Next, I write my initial equation: .10d + .05n + .01p = 3.75.

3. Because it will be easier to solve for just one variable, I'm going to write p and n in terms of d. Shelby has eight fewer dimes than pennies. Therefore, p = d + 8. She also has nineteen fewer dimes than nickels (n = d + 19).

4. Substituting these back into the main equation, I get: .10d + .05(d + 19) + .01(d + 8) = 3.75.

5. Now all you need to do is simplify and solve for d and you'll know how many dimes Shelby has. From there, plug the number of dimes back into the two simpler equations and you'll get the number of pennies and nickels.

Carica P. from Mexico wants to know, "words that rhyme with papaya".

Carica, after a deep meditation session, here are my Top 5 words that rhyme with papaya...

1. jambalaya
2. Sanjaya
3. pariah
4. Mariah
5. conspire (with the right mispronunciation)

Garth B. from Oklahoma queries, "looking for a country song with the lyrics swing batta batta swing in it".

Garth, the song you're looking for is "Swing" by Trace Adkins. I wrote about it last year, but I'm afraid the links I included are nothing more than a memory. Luckily, the song's music video is still available on YouTube...

Diophantus, if you're still reading this, Shelby has 17 dimes. And this is why I wouldn't make a good math teacher.

One of the neatest features of my new phone is its ability to send photos directly to Flickr. There is something exciting about the immediacy of it.

It is raw and in the moment. Any sentiments expressed are unfiltered and perhaps more honest than the ones ones put down on paper several hours or days later, after enough time has passed for the mind to reflect on, shape, label, and properly file the moment into the catalog of one's memories.

I must admit that I am somebody who is easily caught up in the moment. When presented with a beautiful view, it is the most beautiful view ever. My eyes don't allow my mind to correctly rank what they're seeing. To do so would be a disservice to the moment.

Then again, how valuable is immediacy? How critical is it to record and share one's thoughts of the moment at that precise moment? Without interpretation, reflection, and perspective, what does the present -- this very second -- mean?

I took the photo above while standing atop Crocker Point in Yosemite National Park yesterday. I was alone when I snapped the shot, but during the few seconds it took to send the photo to Flickr, it felt as though there was a tiny group of people there with me, seeing what I saw. It made me feel connected and strangely disconnected at the same time -- a sensation I wouldn't have experienced if not for one of the neatest features of my new phone.

Five years ago, I started this journal. At the time, I thought it would only last a month at most. But just like anything you expect to be temporary, it has become a rather permanent part of my life.

When it first began, this journal was more introspective. It was tool to pry loose whatever was stuck in my head. It was a clever way to trick myself into saying things I would normally never be able to say in Real Life. When you're a person as quiet as I am, trickery is often necessary.

In a way, I still use trickery to write what I'm thinking. I've just had five years to perfect the technique. Like right now, I'm doing the virtual equivalent of staring at a spot on the wall just above everybody's heads. It's silly, I know, but it works.

Over five years, the direction of this journal has turned more outward than inward; at least I think it has. To me, it has become more about what I see and do and less about what I feel. I'm going to venture a guess and say that's a good thing. Perhaps the best way to defeat one's shyness and self-doubt is to initially acknowledge them, give them their moment in the spotlight, and then yank them off the stage with a large hook before the produce starts flying.

As I said somewhere before, this journal "has been a diary, a scrapbook, a private pep talk and a chronicle of my amusements". I would add that has also become a chronicle of my adventures (mild though they be) and my virtual playground.

Through this journal, I have met so many cool people (both online and in real life). They have been and continue to be a source of inspiration for me and I'm grateful to them. Thank you to those of you have been with me through the years and those of you who have only been here a short time. Stick with me. I can't promise things will get better around here, but I can promise they won't get noticeably worse.

On that note, I leave you with Matchbox Twenty's "How Far We've Come", an upbeat apocalyptic song that really has nothing to do with this fifth blogiversary, but it has been playing in my head for weeks and I needed to let it out...

When the mood strikes, I like to check my logs to see what search terms brought people to my journal. What I've discovered is that if one writes about a wide variety of topics, then one will receive an even wider variety of queries. What I fear people have discovered is that if they ask the interwebs a question, they will be led far, far astray and end up here, which makes me feel awful.

In an effort to get them back on track, I thought I would try to respond to some of these queries and point them in a better direction. Like last time, I have kept the queries intact, but have changed the names and places to make this feel more like a question and answer session. Let's begin...

M. Hamilton from California queries, "update who started the lick fire".

Well, M. Hamilton, by the time it was fully contained, the Lick Fire had consumed 47,760 acres of land and more than half of Henry Coe State Park had burned. According to the Mercury News, a San Juan Bautista woman accidentally sparked the blaze when she attempted to burn a pile of paper plates in a barrel on her property north of the park.

K. Ridder of San Jose asks, "who was the main character in the show called early edition".

Gary Hobson. He was played by Kyle Chandler, who currently stars in a show called Friday Night Lights. Of course, I'll always fondly remember him as the unlucky bomb squad captain on Grey's Anatomy. If he had only gotten tomorrow's newspaper today, he could have called in sick.

Placido D. from Madrid wants to know, "did pavarotti lip sync in torino".

According to one of the guests on this radio show about the great opera singer's passing, Pavarotti only lip-synced once in 1992 during a pop concert in Modena, Italy. I hope that takes a load off your mind, Placido.

Bud S. from Wisconsin asks, "who won the baseball game on august 29 2007".

Bud, taking your question at face value, I would say you're going to have to be more specific. Reading between the lines, though, I would say you obviously meant San Francisco. On that day, the Giants beat the Rockies, 3-1, for one of their rare wins.

Teddy R. from New York queries, "hikers rating the difficulty of panorama trail in yosemite national park".

Teddy, I couldn't find a site that lets hikers rate the difficulty of trails, but for what it's worth, I'll give you my rating. It really depends on which direction you plan to hike the Panorama Trail. If you're starting from Happy Isles and hiking up to Glacier Point, then I would say it's a six on a difficulty scale of ten, based on the steep sections at the beginning (along the Mist Trail) and the end - the last mile or so is a climb. If you're hiking down to the valley from Glacier Point, then I would rate it a 4. There is some climbing involved after Illilouette Falls, but the rest of the trail is downhill.

JanSport389 types, "backpack fetish".

Jan, while I've heard of eyeglass fetishes and foot fetishes, I've never heard of a backpack fetish before. I've never really seen backpacks as accessories that add sex appeal, but maybe I'm just blind. It's surely conceivable that a backpack could make one person appear more attractive, mysterious, and even, dare I say, sophisticated to another person.

Hayden Panettiere? Eh.

Hayden Panettiere wearing an external frame backpack? Hawt!

(I can't wait to see what queries that response generates.)

Please pardon the digital dust around here as I try to figure out what happened to this journal's templates.

I just upgraded to Movable Type 4.0 and everything is looking out of sorts, which is the only euphemism I'm able to muster at the moment.

Of course, if you're reading this via a feed, then you won't notice a difference... hopefully.

So far, the simple refresh and republish technique hasn't worked. I'm now mentally preparing myself for the next logical step: wading through the documentation.

It's going to be fun. I can feel it.

Wish me luck. I'm hoping to have all the bigaleeboos¹ worked out in a few hours.

¹ Bigaleeboos are critters that look like harmless template tags, but are really nasty buggers that wreak havoc on a blog. They also have a tendency to snip at fingertips, which is why I plan to wear gloves.

Every once in a while, I check my logs to see what search terms have brought people to this little site in the middle of nowhere (a.k.a. the internet boondocks). As it is in the boondocks of the real world, most people got here by complete accident. They started out looking for something on the information superhighway and wound up taking the wrong exit.

I thought it would be good to help a few folks out and try to provide them with the answers to their queries (or at least what I think are the answers; some of their queries are rather cryptic).

In order to make this more enjoyable for all involved, this will take the form of a question and answer session. The queries will remain intact, but instead of giving boring IP addresses, I will make up names and places. Let's begin, shall we?

Stephen D. from Vermont queries, "who ran against lincoln in 1864".

Stephen, the answer you were seeking was General George B. McClellan. He briefly led the Army of the Potomac before Lincoln relieved him of his command. Not too long afterwards, he became the Democratic nominee and promptly lost the election to his former boss.

Sly S. from New York queries, "gonna fly now".

Sly, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you're looking for "Gonna Fly Now (Theme from Rocky)". I found a nifty Youtube video featuring the song that you might like. I hope that helps.

Barry B. from California queries, "distance to mccovey cove from home base splash hit".

Barry, the answer you're looking for is 336 feet. It's 309 feet to the right field foul pole and the sidewalk beyond the gate is another 27 feet. At least that is what a San Francisco Chronicle article claims. So, there you go.

Scroobious P. from England queries, "thou shall not make repetitive generic music".

Scroobious, I don't know if that is so much a query as it is an order. Assuming it's an order, I promise I won't make repetitive generic music. I also won't write repetitive generic journal entries. Just in case you were hoping to find a useful link, this one should fit the bill.

Finally, Angus M. from Minnesota queries, "macgyver music note".

Angus, I'm a big MacGyver fan, so I can tell you right away that the show's theme song has more than one music note. MacGyver was handy, but not that handy. You can find the sheet music here. If you want, you can watch Adrian Holovaty play an acoustic guitar version of the song.

That's all the time I have to dedicate to answering what querying minds want to know for now. In a couple of weeks, I tackle another batch.

Gawker recently published an article listing the fifteen most recycled clichés used in blog-media today. I read it with apprehension, afraid they would "out" the unoriginal jokes and references that litter my writing. Fortunately, they overlooked most of my repertoire and only mentioned three I've been guilty of using.

[undesirable counter-example], not so much.
The punchline that ends a thousand million columns and blog posts. Weak as the lightest of lite beers, or the puny farts you get from such beer.

This one cropped up twice in 2003. Once in a title (Running? Not so Much) and once in a post about surfing (My courage… not so much).

[adjective]-y goodness
"Goodness" once might have served as a comical placeholder for sarcastic expressions of positivity, but now it exists in this construction purely to demonstrate the high-lariousness of the writer. A near cousin replaces "goodness" with a noun specific to the context, such as "his sexy backness."

I used this one twice in 2005. Once it appeared as minty goodness (to describe a peppermint patty) and once as crunchy goodness (my interpretation of a statue).

[x] is the new [y].
The unkillable grandaddy of them all, a Protean monster capable of adapting to any topic, discussion, situation, or writer. Has gone through so many levels of irony, sarcasm, and hipster appropriation that it deserves to be captured and dissected so we can finally understand its vigor. There is likely no defense, but fight it as long as you can. Your sacrifice will be remembered.

In 2004, when talking about changing this journal's banner and color scheme, I felt compelled to say brown was the new blue.

To reiterate, this doesn't mean my writing is free from clichés. It only means no one has bothered to compile a list of the ones I use or I haven't been made aware of the list… yet.

• Best. [ultimate thing or experience.] Ever/Evar.
• FTW, O RLY, lol, FTL, OMG, FWIW, btw, PWND, ROTFL, etc.
• [negative experience, situation, or description]; I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.
• [purposefully non-ghetto statement], yo.
• [undesirable conclusion]. Oy.
• [amazed paraphrase of opposing position]. Seriously? Seriously?
• What's next? [outlandish scenario]?
• I'm looking at you, [example of complaint].
• Um, [condescension]?
• [Argument], wait for it, [rhetorical flourish].
• [Undesirable experience] made my [sensory organ] bleed.
• [any word]-gasm

The day was ending. The sky was darkening. The temperature was dropping. Most people were heading home for the night, but a few individuals braved the dark and the cold and sat around a table in a cafe, drank coffee, and philosophized. That they philosophized about gummy bacon, Guitar Hero, or Day of the Ninja is unimportant. What is important is that they ended the day sharing laughs and liveblogging their silliness. Photos from the mosaic can be found on Flickr. The title of this entry is a quote courtesy of Rich.

Last night, at the del.icio.us three-year + millionth-user bash I attended, somebody asked me what I blog about, which I must admit isn't something I'm asked often (or ever). So, of course, I had trouble answering it. I think I said something like, "Well, uh, at the moment, because the postseason just started, I'm writing about baseball, but I also write about hiking and stuff."

I suppose a better response (or at least a different response) would have been, "I write about life in general." If it catches my attention, piques my curiosity or seems worth remembering, I'll write about it.

Since quite a few things happened last night, it's all rather a mess in my head, so I thought the best way capture the parts I wanted to remember was to make a list.

• Last night was the regular blogger gathering at Barefoot Coffee Roasters.
• Elkit, Hank, Silvia, Kevin and Rich attended.
• According to Hank, Casa de Fruta, the monster-sized fruit stand on the outskirts of Hollister, hosts a Civil War reenactment every year. I hope to see it next summer.
• NaNoWriMo is nearly here. Elkit already ordered her NaNoWriMo shirt and mentioned there's even a special NaNoWriMo coffee blend this year. Now, all they need is special NaNoWriMo Skittles and I'm set.
• Due to the less-than-ideal furniture arrangement at Barefoot, a suggestion was made to hold one of the monthly blogger gatherings at the new It's A Grind near the Apple campus.
• Someone proposed a margarita night at Aqui in Willow Glen.
• Kevin highly recommended a podcast by Garrison Keillor called The Writer's Almanac.
• The de.licio.us event took place at the Yahoo! campus in Sunnyvale.
• I met a few friendly people - Andrew, Eszter and Richard - last night. (Since it was a del.icio.us event, I thought it more appropriate to link to their del.icio.us accounts rather than their blogs.)
• Rich and fling93 were also in attendance.
• I recognized some folks in the crowd, either from their blogs or their Flickr accounts, which reminded me of just how intertwined the various social networking sites are. The bees are busy cross-pollinating in this virtual garden.

That sums up my night and provides a relatively fresh sample of what I blog about.

Ever since I upgraded Movable Type, I've been having plug-in troubles and template problems. It has been quite an adventure repairing pages, fixing the "repairs" and then trying to repair what was broken in the first place. If something doesn't appear right (beyond the usual nonsense I write), please let me know. I'll try my best to "work the problem" or, if that fails, simply delete it.

I spent this weekend camping and hiking in Sequoia & Kings Canyon National Parks. It was my third visit to the jointly operated parks in four years. Three years ago, we stayed at Grant Grove. Two years ago, we camped at Cedar Grove. To change things up this year, B and I camped at Lodgepole in the Sequoia half of the park.

Since B had to work Friday morning, we left for the park in the afternoon and reached Lodgepole around 5:30 pm. The late arrival was fine except for the fact that the village showers close early in the fall. For whatever reason, they're only open from 9:00 am to 5:45 pm during the off-season.

Why they keep such short hours is a mystery to me. My guess is the rangers have a secret arrangement with the local black bears. In exchange for not eating visitors, the bears receive hot showers every night. Everybody wins. Campers don't get eaten, rangers don't get bad publicity for eaten campers and bears get hot showers on cold nights. And really, isn't it better to have dirty campers than devoured campers?

I suppose the only ones who really lose are the maintenance workers who have to spend the wee hours of the morning cleaning bear hair from the drains. So, to be more accurate, 98% of everybody wins, which isn't bad if you think about it (and you aren't a maintenance worker).

Considering the cost of a hot shower (minimum three dollars for eight minutes), the tight time constraint turned out to be less of an issue than how to obtain three dollars worth of quarters and not accidentally drop one down the drain (with all the bear hair) when trying to feed the shower meter.

After all that fun, we set up camp, ate hot meals around the campfire and went over the game plan for Saturday's big hike before retiring for the night.

Well, I've been having all sorts of fun tonight trying to upgrade the black box that produces this journal. After a series of errors and botched efforts, I think the new Movable Type 3.33 is finally running smoothly. The latest installment has fancy new features like tags and widgets, but I haven't had much time to sit and fiddle with them. So, if anything breaks in the next few days, you'll know why.

On an unrelated note, Sunday was National Punctuation Day. I would've never known if the Language Log hadn't mentioned it.

1. Lynne Truss. She wrote Eats, Shoots & Leaves, a book that champions proper punctuation.
2. Victor Borge and his phonetic punctuation. He would assign unique sounds to common punctuation marks and then read a brief passage from a story to show the audience how his system worked. The excerpt, no matter how serious, always turned out sounding comical. It's a lot funnier if you see it for yourself (it's a subdued version, but still illustrative). When I saw him perform it live at the Flint Center in Cupertino many years ago, I thought it was one of the funniest (and most memorable) parts of the show. His inflationary language sketch was also hilarious.
3. Allan Sherman. I remember listening to my grandfather's old comedy albums. On one of them, Sherman (the Weird Al of the 1960s) sang "Night and Day (with Punctuation Marks)", a parody of the Cole Porter classic. It wasn't as funny as "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah (A Letter from Camp)", but it was mildly amusing.

I've yet to adjust to the feeling of repeating stories. Whether it's writing it in an email first and retelling it here or writing about it here and then bringing it up in a conversation later, it still feels weird. It's as though whoever hears or reads it first has exclusive rights to it and it would be a betrayal to tell anyone else.

The whole thing is ridiculous. You would think after doing this for nearly four years, I'd be over it, but I'm not. I don't know how many times I have to tell myself that it's okay to repeat stories. I should probably clarify that I'm not talking about stories that are result of personal drama or violate privacy. I'm talking about funny, day-in-the-life anecdotes or observations.

I imagine the best conversationalists and storytellers have no qualms retelling tales, no matter the audience or forum. Every retelling is an opportunity to relive the events and tailor the details and embellishments to suit those listening.

I need to change my perspective on the matter. It should feel weird to recount the story to just one person or in just one place. An anecdote isn't a secret and every retelling isn't a betrayal, but a fresh chance to share and connect with people, tell a better story and be a better storyteller.

After a bit of pondering, I've concluded that blogging is exactly like batting, only with less pine tar. I would have said less steroids, too, but the prodigious daily word count of some bloggers leads me to believe they are using undetectable performance-enhancing drugs.

Sitting down to write is the blog equivalent of stepping up to the plate. Like batters, every blogger has a different stance. Some bloggers like to write in cafes (an open stance), some prefer the privacy of their homes (a closed stance) and some can only write when dressed as a hot dog (akin to Craig Counsell's classic stance). Everyone starts with a different stance, but when it comes to that critical point of producing written thought, putting the bat on the ball, everyone finishes at the same place (even Counsell, as hard as that may be to believe).

Topics are like pitches. Just as batters have certain pitches and locations they prefer (high fastball, inside breaking ball), bloggers have certain topics they prefer because they know it works well with their style. Of course, bloggers are slightly luckier than batters because life usually doesn't throw nasty stuff like Carlos Zambrano and Johan Santana do (or Randy Johnson and Roger Clemens did, for those seeking more recognizable examples).

As with pitches, there are several ways to approach topics. Most bloggers try to be serious (try to pull it), others try to be humorous (take it to the opposite field), some try too hard (aim for the fences), some don't try hard not enough (shallow pop-ups) and some are satisfied to write a sentence and add a link (bunt it down the line).

Finally, like batters, bloggers experience streaks and slumps because good writing, like good hitting, is rooted in practice and good mechanics. What causes slumps? Batters usually attribute their lack of hits to timing, while bloggers usually attribute their poor writing to a lack of inspiration. (And by bloggers, I mean me.) In either case, the only real way to break out of a slump is to keep doing the very activity that is slumping until the timing or inspiration returns.

So, as you can see from this brief (and shoddy) comparison, blogging is exactly like batting (minus the helmet and chewing tobacco).

The purpose of this post is to inform you that the publishing engine that produces the journal you're reading has been upgraded from Movable Type 3.14 to Movable Type 3.2. As usual, the company failed to include an author upgrade with this latest installment.

• Upgraded Movable Type
• set up a Flickr account
• vacuumed the house
• wash one load of laundry
• assemble an arbor (and photograph the assembly efforts)
• read a book outside while the sun is still shining

Have a great Friday (and weekend), everbody!

I wrote the title of this entry before I realized Hank had posted an entry with an eerily similar title on the very same topic that I'm about to post about.

Last night was our First Tuesday of the Month blogger gathering at Barefoot Coffee Roasters. When I arrived, most of the usual faces (along with a familiar face from NaNoWriMo) were already present and crowded around two smaller tables. Before I could even sit down, they decided to move to the majestic round table referenced in the title, which was fine by me as it shortened my walk to the coffee bar by at least six feet. As the night progressed, a few folks slipped away and a couple latecomers appeared.

As usual, the discussion spanned a wide range of topics, from the quality of construction in the Soviet Union under Stalin to the use of AdSense on one's blog for feeding the piggybank to the invention of hovering webcams programmed to follow one's cat.

And as usual, electronic gadgets (unofficial tally: 4 laptops and 7 cameras) and cups of caffeine cluttered the table. For about three blinks of the eye, I thought I saw a slice of chocolate cake on the table in front of Jon, but I could be mistaken.

Just so you know, Elkit and Ealasaid posted real-time accounts of last night's gathering and Rich followed up today with entry of his own.

Looking back on last week, it's quite clear that Blog Sweeps Week for my "blog" was a bust, not in terms of hits, since I don't bother looking at those, but in terms of content.

I should learn a lesson from Rich, who did a great job. The keys to his success (and my favorite entries) were the lists and the guest blogger contributions (which are the blog equivalent of having big name guest stars on a television show).

As for me, the next time I give this a go, I'm going to actually plan and prepare a week's worth of entries beforehand. Otherwise, trying to pull off sweeps week on the fly leads to a predictably disappointing result.

The man or woman snoozing in a chair with a magazine or a book is a person who has been given too much unnecessary trouble by the writer.

Yesterday, during lunch, I came across a review of William Zinsser's book, On Writing Well. Just from the title, I knew I wanted to read it. Five minutes later, I had borrowed a copy from the library across the street. By the time I got home, I had read fifty pages.

It's a book that makes me smile, not only as someone who reads, but also as someone who attempts to write. It's a book about writing that is actually readable because the author follows his own principles. Zinsser urges simplicity and discourages clutter. He champions short words over long ones, promotes direct language over euphemisms and encourages the use of a thesaurus. What he says is obvious and common sense, but he says it so well and with warmth and humor.

It's a book that makes me want to go through everything I ever wrote here, rewrite it, read it aloud and rewrite it again. It makes me want to write more, but with greater thought to how I write. It bugs me how careless I can be with words and sentence structure. I blame it on time constraints and laziness.

I don't want my writing to cause readers any "unnecessary trouble" or boredom and when I say readers, I mostly mean me, since I'm supposedly writing for myself. And while I'm sure we would all appreciate more sleep, I would prefer it if what I wrote didn't induce it.

If I can help it, I also want to avoid writing in what Zinsser calls "journalese".

There is a kind of writing that might be called journalese, and it's the death of freshness in anybody's style. It's the common currency of newspapers and of magazines like People – a mixture of cheap words, made-up words and cliches that have become so pervasive that a writer can hardly help using them.

I'm glad I came across this book. I'm sure I'm the last one to ever hear of it, but for me, it's a find. I can't wait to continue it on the train ride home. I only hope that I'll be able to retain and apply what I read, so that someday, I'll be able to write well, too.

After a long absence, I finally made it to a South Bay Blogger Meetup. Twelve of us crowded around three tables and a couch at Barefoot Coffee Roasters. The place was so packed that getting up to order a drink or dessert was the quickest way to lose one's seat. Speaking of a drink, I ordered an espresso shooter known as the Nutty Irishman, which is a shot of espresso, irish cream and hazelnut syrup, and a dab of whipped cream.

• Natalie Portman - Her hotness, her hair and their correlation. Someone circled her name and drew multiple arrows to emphasize the topic, but I can't imagine who that would be.
• Farscape pins - Hank shared some of his custom-made pins related to the show.
• Intel Apple - Talk about how Apple computers will soon have Intel inside.
• Instant polka reception - Rich told a story of a wedding where the kegs came out and the polka band set up as soon as the ceremony was over, allowing for a seamless transition into the reception.
• KRON Meetup - A local television station is hosting a Bay Area Meetup this Saturday. By all accounts, it will be huge.
• Blogger pick-up lines - Rich came up with a couple lines to pick up bloggers at this weekend's meetup. They were classic, but sadly, I didn't write them down for posterity.
• Baseball cards - Long ago, they were originally included as a promotional item with cigarettes. To market to kids, they were included in packs of gum. Eventually, their popularity grew, so things switched and gum was soon included in packs of baseball cards.
• Enviro engr / terrorists - This stemmed from a joke/question asking if somebody with a background in water resources would likely receive a job offer from terrorist groups. The discussion quickly strayed away from harmful acts to environmental protection, the Colorado River, the existence of Las Vegas, artificial wetlands, the preservation of Venice and the complexities of trying to protect two competing endangered species.
• Cities / trans. - This was about big city infrastructures, like those found in New York, Boston, Philadelphia and Atlanta, and they're differences.

The next meetup happens in a couple weeks. I'll be missing that one, but will hopefully be there for more good times in July.

I am in such a writing funk. I feel the need to break out of this rut or routine. It's as if my creativity has been sitting in the sun too long. It's beginning to fade and peel. I need to add some pizzazz to my vocabulary and add some variety to my sentence structures. I need to use a different set of writing muscles. It's like physical activity, everyone knows that the same muscles used repetitively have a tendency to tighten up, increasing the chance of injury. I need to do some stretching exercises before I strain something. Is there such a thing as cross-training for writing?

As Charlie Brown often said, "AUGH!"

I can't seem to write anything without immediately deleting it or editing it into gooey gibberish. I keep forgetting that this journal isn't a five-star restaurant requiring delicacies presented on the finest china. It's simply a food stand where people expect hot dogs wrapped in silver paper. What I'm trying to say is I don't need to use ten-dollar words to express two-cent thoughts. I need to stop being a blockhead and write already.

On a writing-related note, I recently came across the following excerpt from George Orwell's "Politics and the English Language" that I wanted to quote for future reference:

Before I forget, I should note that this online journal is now powered by Movable Type 3.14 (upgraded from 2.661). It took about an hour to upload and install the new version using my speedy modem. What the upgrade means on my end is obvious. The whole interface looks quite different. What the upgrade means for readers isn't as apparent. As far as I can tell, upgrading didn't make any of my entries smarter, funnier, taller or better looking. Maybe the next installment will fix that.

The rain comes down steadily now. The sky has lost all definition and looks like a light gray sheet draped behind the trees, hiding the buildings beyond. The world seems smaller, feels colder.

I took the train in this morning, riding the rail to avoid the perils of slick highways and crazy commuters. As I stepped from the station and opened my umbrella, a gust of wind came and turned it inside out. I contemplated waiting for the bus, but it was running late due to the weather. I zipped up my jacket, raised my collar and went for a walk in the rain.

I skipped over puddles and kept away from the curb, where passing cars were likely to splash. As I strolled up to the block, I spotted the most inviting cafe and stepped inside. Sitting here, sipping coffee and scribbling away seems like the perfect way to spend the remaining minutes before the workday begins.

Less than two weeks ago, this journal marked its second anniversary. Many months and countless entries later, it still exists. As I sat on the train and wrote the baseball post, I grew nostalgic. It seems odd to say, but many of my early journal entries were born aboard trains or in cafes.

The rain has let up and I will have to walk swiftly if I hope to reach the office on time. Before I go, I wanted to end with a paragraph written a year ago.

"I have come across so many kind and cool people because of this journal. Some I've met in real life and some I've only contacted online, but hope to meet someday. Reading their journals has inspired me and exposed me to so many new and diverse perspectives and interests. I want to thank them for sharing and I want to thank you, dear readers, both known and anonymous, for visiting and skimming these words."

A year later and the sentiment still holds true.

At noon, I went to one of my favorite cafes by Santa Clara University. I ordered a tuna salad and coffee for lunch. The place was rather crowded with business types from surrounding high tech firms. They were busy talking to one another or talking on their cell phones. Just above the din of conversation, I could hear guitar music and somebody singing.

There were a few empty tables scattered about and I eventually found one I liked. As I sat down, I looked up and saw two young men at a nearby table. One was singing and the other was playing a guitar. The guitarist and I made eye contact. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. He smiled lopsidedly and gave me a nod. I smiled, nodded and then buried my nose in a book.

The two weren't performing for anybody in particular. They were there to practice and write music. It was interesting overhearing some of their creative process. I continued to read, but in the back of my mind, it was bugging me that I couldn't remember where I had seen the guitarist before.

My salad finally arrived and I ate it while trying to think. It wasn't until I was sipping the last of my coffee when wisps of a memory drifted across my brain. He had performed at a cafe near San Jose State last year! I couldn't recall specifics like his name or the cafe's name for that matter, but I could remember writing about it in this journal.

As I left, I gave the mystery guitarist a parting nod and rushed back to the office to run a search. And wouldn't you know it? I wrote about Sonny playing at Cafecito nearly a year and a half ago. I was so overjoyed to find that speck of information. Who knew this journal could be such a nifty memory aid?

A few weeks ago, as I traveled ever so slowly on the 101, I was listening to NPR's All Things Considered. They have a segment called Creative Spaces. It explores the places where artists, musicians, writers and actors go to escape, create, find inspiration, relax and rejuvenate. That particular day, Phylicia Rashad talked about finding sanctuary and solitude in the New York Botanical Garden. A few other folks have also discussed their creative places.

It's fascinating how some artists' havens sometimes become their prisons. They find or create this environment that starts out as a source of creativity, but over time becomes the only source. How does that happen?

I suppose some artists would consider the creation of art mysterious, magical or even sacred. For them, the place and time must be fixed and there must almost be a ritual, an established routine to start the process. For others, their approach must be more workmanlike in nature. Clock in and clock out. It doesn't matter where or when. All that matters is that the artist has the appropriate tools to create.

This got me wondering what bloggers, photobloggers or online journalists need to create. What tools? A laptop, a digital camera, a pen, a pad of paper, the margins of a newspaper? Where? Outdoors, indoors, in a cubicle, on a train, at home, in the shower?

I prefer a pad and pen or my Palm V (with keyboard) and someplace outside. My regular weekday creative spaces vary. One of my favorites is the table shown here. To reach it from the office requires a walk over the river and through the (manmade) woods.

The walk is part of the space. It's a warm up. The repetition of putting one foot in front of the other helps my brain shift gears. A walk to the train station, a walk to the park, a walk to the cafe. The form of transportation can affect the mindset.

When I sit with a pad of paper, my inner-editor takes a coffee break (which reminds me, a good cup of coffee can be a critical tool, too) and allows the writing or blogging to flow. The Palm V works like a pad. The small screen doesn't give my inner editor a chance to backtrack and censor thoughts or rework sentences.

The table is a cool creative space. Part of what tickles my mind is how close it is to "civilization", but how remote it feels. It's a secret spot out in the open. I imagine it would lose some if its magic were it to become popular and populated. There is the occasional jogger and cyclist, but they pass through quickly. They're part of the background, like the birds or squirrels (though dressed in tighter and brighter clothing than any bird or squirrel I've seen).

While at Disneyland, I sought out similar creative nooks, attempting to find a moment of solitude, a reprieve from the masses. The fifth floor hotel balcony. The table between the bookstore and magazine kiosk in Downtown Disney. The rocking chair by the rustic fireplace. The bench along the meandering trail behind the Grizzly River Run. The places were there if you looked for them.

And that's true wherever you go. It's only a matter of having the tools, the time and finding a space where you feel safe enough to let your creativity run wild.

Yesterday, I was treated to lunch at Hukilau. I usually have the kalua cabbage, but opted for the loco moco, my second favorite dish, instead. I don't know how authentic it is, but if somebody wants to send me to the islands to compare, I wouldn't mind. The dish would make a good breakfast.

I heard Hukilau has opened a third location in Palo Alto. So, if you live in between San Jose and San Francisco, check it out. The address is 642 Ramona Street. All three locations have live music on Friday and Saturday nights. I can't wait to see what the new one is like.

I rarely post on Saturdays, but thought the randomly curious would like to know that on top of a long Labor Day weekend, I'll be on vacation next week. While away, I'll probably do some writing, reading and photographing. We'll see if I'm able to squeeze in a little fun as well.

Successful humor, I think, requires a delicate touch. That's not true. Humor can be done crassly and with broad strokes. It can be absurd and over the top. It can be pointed and mean-spirited. Humor comes in a variety of blends. As a writer (and I use that term very loosely), I know that I attempt to add humor to almost everything I write. It's a seasoning. Writing something funny for the sake of being funny comes across as forced and unnatural. It's like watching a comedy and knowing the situation presented was ridiculously manufactured or wrought for a specific punch line.

Humor, on a continuous basis, is difficult to achieve. As with any type of writing, levels of success and effectiveness are dependent on subject matter and the author's creativity. It requires making connections between disparate ideas and concepts. It requires astute observation and the ability to articulate nimbly. Finding the humor in a situation requires having a slightly different perspective than everybody else. This is true, at least, if one wants to be seen as bringing freshness to a topic or event.

I think it's funny that a post about humor can be so dry and unfunny.

Ah, the beauty of simply rambling. I wanted to set goals for this entry. Be original. Be funny. Be well thought out. Be articulate. I was about to lay down the law, but had the sudden realization that journal entries, like children, see rules as a challenge, something to defy. They would rebel against everything I told them. I'd set a four-hundred-word curfew and they would break it and try to sneak in a few extra sentences. They would grow up to be multi-paragraphed scribblings that resented their author. So now, I'm just sitting here, letting the entry write itself. The only way it's going to learn is if I allow it to make its own mistakes. The best I can do is to be here to support it. It's called the laissez-faire approach to writing.

Yesterday was my parents' 31st anniversary. To celebrate, they saw a performance of The Producers at the Center for Performing Arts. My sister and I saw it last week (she snagged comp tickets) and we liked it so much, we decided to buy them a pair of tickets. It's Mel Brooks. It has dancing Nazis, a Swedish bombshell, a gay singing Hitler and a chorus line of old ladies with walkers. My parents are conservatives, but they got a kick out of it. It's the best musical I've seen since Les Misérables came to San Jose last year.

I heard part of the All-Star Game broadcast on the radio Tuesday night. I listened as Roger Clemens was shelled by the American Leaguers. He gave up two three-run homers and faced nine batters including Oakland's Mark Mulder, the winning pitcher. The A.L. will again have home field advantage during the World Series. I guess that means San Francisco will have to take the first two from Boston to minimize that advantage. Thursdays are good for making brash predictions.

Last night, we had dinner at Cafe Gibraltar, a Mediterranean restaurant in El Granada, a town just a few miles north of Half Moon Bay. Depending on where one sits, there's an amazing view of the ocean, which probably looks phenomenal at sunset. If you were me, there was an amazing view of the slightly disturbing paintings on the wall. The bread and soup were tasty. For the main course, I had the Gnocchi con Funghi, potato dumplings with mixed mushrooms, which sounded enticing, but was disappointingly bland.

Tonight will conclude my three-day whirlwind peninsula dining tour. Tuesday was Chevys in South San Francisco, yesterday was Cafe Gibraltar and tonight will be sushi at Fuji in the city. To provide balance, next week will probably be a five-day dine-in affair, a home stand if you will, filled with leftovers, Happy Meals, reality television and Netflix.

That last paragraph was noticeably brief, which must mean this entry is nearly tuckered out and ready for bed. After it brushes its teeth (and flosses), I'll attempt to sing it a little Gavin DeGraw, a few lines of lyric expressing how I feel, and then wish it a good night and sweet dreams.

I don't mean to be so strange
But my life just took a change
'Cause I just found someone special
And that's really something special
If you knew me

I have only a moment, over this long weekend, to sit in front of the computer and fiddle with things. What little time I've had has been wasted wisely spent fussing with adjusting colors, which takes much longer than one might suspect. Goodness knows how long I would spend here if I were a talented graphic artist with the ability to transform the whole look and feel of a site. Competence can be a dangerous thing.

I hope everybody is having a wonderful Memorial Day weekend. It's time for me to put on some sunscreen, go outside and play.

By the time Friday came around, the temperature had dropped and the wind had picked up. At four in the afternoon, I was unsuccessfully attempting to accelerate the second hand of the clock in my cubicle telekinetically. I now have a theory that coffee weakens one's ability to move objects by thought alone.

An hour or so later, I was racing out of the door to grab dinner and catch a showing of Van Helsing. I liked the premise and the actors (Jackman, Beckinsale and Wenham) the most. The film felt like a tongue-in-cheek spoof that combined elements of every monster movie ever made. It was silly and fun, but too long, nearly two-and-half hours in length.

On Saturday, I drove to Alameda and met up with a few Rice Bowl Journal folks (also known alphabetically as Arnold, Bon, Cat, Chris, Clara, Dave and Mona). We bowled, had some delicious pizza from Zachary's and then did a little karaoke. It was all worth the drive.

I don't know, perhaps it was the effects of the bottled water, but something made me feel safe enough to "sing" with a microphone to my mouth. That was a first. For the record, "Wherever You Will Go" by The Calling was my karaoke debut. The words first and debut may seem to indicate a likelihood of future adventures in public singing, but I'm not making any threats promises.

Saturday went by too quickly. I spent Sunday with my mom and the family. We had dim sum at Dynasty Chinese Seafood Restaurant and later had dinner at BJ's in San Jose. I wanted to get home early, but surrendered to a great deal of parental pressure to watch the Survivor All-Stars finale and reunion shows. It would be well after midnight before I got to bed.

The last few days have been crazy. I stayed out late on Friday, spent Saturday in Pacifica and hiked in Big Basin on Sunday. At work, it took most of Monday to move into my new cubicle.

Yesterday, stress and a lack of sleep finally caught up with me. My throat started to hurt, my joints began to ache and all I wanted to do was sleep. I crawled into bed around seven last night and stayed there until seven this morning.

Today, I'm trying to take it easy, drink plenty of coffee fluids and take the unusual measure of eating on a regular basis. I also plan to sleep at a decent hour. All I need is some recovery time. I hate that it takes a cold to remind me to take better care of myself.

Time and energy has been lacking. There are replies I need to send and thoughts I want to chronicle. Don't mind me as I play catch up over the next few days. Aren't updates that attempt to explain a lack of updates just grand?

Friday was supposed to end on a happier entry, but I never got around to writing it because shiny objects distracted me.

It seems certain entries are more suitable for certain days. Fridays and Mondays are good for lighter topics, while Tuesdays and Wednesdays are nice for more serious ones. Photo entries fit well on Thursdays where they can break up the monotonous string of words and add a little color. Finally, Saturdays and Sundays are excellent for when you want to say something, but don't really want anyone to read it.

Entry production dropped off in February due to poor time management. Fortunately, I purchased a book on managing my time better. As soon as I get a chance to read it, you should see a noticeable increase in journal productivity.

Whenever an entry is completed and posted, there is never a feeling that it will remain at the top of the page for very long. A day, usually. A weekend, perhaps. Unlike a book, where one would hope to find all of the words in the same place with each reading, an online journal is expected to have new (and preferably interesting) words with each visit.

Unintentionally, I've been away from the computer for a week. The easiest explanation is life happened: family, holidays and more recovery from more ailments. Besides those reasons, this journal probably needed a rest to allow the well to be filled. At least to me, it seemed to be running dry the last couple of weeks.

The unexpected hiatus fit nicely into two weeks of vacation away from everything and everyone. It feels like a "real" vacation. It doesn't involve rushing off someplace or doing anything except recuperate, reflect and plan.

I hope everybody enjoyed the holidays and just in case I take another unanticipated break, here is to a wonderful new year!

Some of the South Bay bloggers gathered at the Mission City Coffee Roasting Company on Wednesday night. Most of the regulars showed up, but a couple were missing in action. If enough of us follow Courtney's lead and call it the Bloggers Meet n' Greet, does that make the name official?

With the exceptions of the open mic Beatles-fest and Jonas fighting punks off from his car, it was a decent venue. At least it was better than anything offered by the establishment. I must confess that I'm a little partial to that cafe. It's only a couple of blocks from my old university and was one of my favorite places to get coffee and cram for classes. Over the last week, I've been getting nostalgic about my college days, but that is worthy of a separate post.

1. Rich now has a photo of Antwon that made his camera investment all worthwhile.
2. I should really consider trying NaNoWriMo.
3. Besides being very bloody, Kill Bill incorporates at least 5 different movie genres and includes references to matadors, Nietzsche and Sun Tzu.
4. I feel awfully low-tech when three people pull out their Powerbooks and all I have is a mocha.
5. We all dressed way too casually compared to Mark.

This journal has been around for a year now. It's amazing how fast time went by since the first entry. It's difficult to tell if my writing has changed over the life of this journal, but it's easy to see that my life has changed since I began writing.

When I first started, I thought I would have this very outgoing and bold online personality. It would be like playing a character on television. Online David would be a cool, clever and charismatic guy, the antithesis of who I am or perceive myself to be in real life.

But there was no sudden or dramatic transformation. When I wrote, no great poet or author emerged. My writing is common and workmanlike at best. The character I drew was not a superhero by any stretch of the imagination. I may be Clark Kent, but I'm no Superman.

I'm glad it happened that way. It made me realize things about myself, like the extent of my shyness. I learned my anxiety isn't infinite, but has limits, which means I can deal with it. I'm not as quiet or mild as I often believe, but I still need to speak up more. I've never been as hopeless or helpless as I sometimes envision myself.

This has been a diary, a scrapbook, a private pep talk and a chronicle of my amusements. It has been a way to share and hide my thoughts, a way to reach out and retreat, a source of motivation and regret.

I have come across so many kind and cool people because of this journal. Some I've met in real life and some I've only contacted online, but hope to meet someday. Reading their journals has inspired me and exposed me to so many new and diverse perspectives and interests. I want to thank them for sharing and I want to thank you, dear readers, both known and anonymous, for visiting and skimming these words.

Because twelve months have nearly passed, this domain will soon be expiring. I've been slowly migrating the archives to a new domain with a name that isn't so mine (thank goodness), but more web-appropriate. When the new place is running, you’ll be the first to know. I just wanted to give everybody a heads up.

Why did I try that coffee blend? How did I happen upon that journal? How did I stumble across this house? Out of random curiosity.

Everyone and everything is like a new trail, a potential path to be traveled. Some will be beautiful and some will be barren. Some will be worth the effort and others will be too difficult, at least for now.

However different, every trail will test and teach me. Each one will start with that first step, the initial risk. It will require picking pathes and knowing I won't be able to get to them all.

I've often been paralyzed by indecision and anxiety. Sometimes I still am, but I’m tired of standing still. I want to learn and experience.

So, I'm challenging myself to explore, letting my curiosity quell my anxiety and choosing random trails to follow. I'll never know, unless I go.

I thought explaining a name would be short and simple. I should know better by now.

A couple of weeks ago, someone planted the idea in my head to redesign. I was hesitant at first, but spent my usual writing time tinkering with the journal's innards. I thought the new name needed to be lighter and maybe hint at a more adventurous spirit. Apparently, the extent of my color coordinating skills is to mix fourteen shades of blue. I just hope everything still works. It wasn't pretty.

On Saturday, I drove up to San Francisco to meet other SF Bay Bloggers. At the corner of Noe Street and Market Street is Cafe Flore, a little place with walls of glass and tables bolted to the floor. It was quite nice, but rather hot. I had a cup of ice with milk and two shots of espresso.

The heat didn't deter us from hanging out and laughing. It was good to meet new faces, from near and far, and associate real people with the journals I read. Typically, anxiety kicks in when meeting a group of strangers, but it helped to have a couple of friendly and familiar folks there. I'm looking forward to the next one, but hopefully it will be a little closer to home.

Since I'm slow, Elke, Courtney and Ealasaid have already written about the blog meetup. Instead of repeating what they said, I'll just throw in a few of observations.

I'm still not sure if the random guy who stopped by completely grasped the concept of blogging or why bloggers would choose to meet over coffee. He looked confused.

Purple monkey dishwasher. I don't know why I remember the phrase. It's just stuck in my head.

In a group of bloggers, it shouldn't surprise me to find at least one or two with the capability to post entries or photos remotely.

I got my complimentary antwon.com bumper sticker, which made me wonder how many people produce blog-related merchandise and just how many people buy such merchandise.

I can't recall a conversation where serious consideration was given to methods of branding a blue whale as part of a web marketing campaign.

Yeah, good times!

To meet somebody who reads these words and whose words I enjoy reading is exciting. When I first started this, I couldn't even fathom such a meeting. It seemed too far-fetched.

But it happened yesterday, when I met the friendly Honeydew. I would blame the iced mocha for loosening my tongue and causing me to be so talkative, but that wasn't the reason. She is just so easy to talk with and be comfortable around, I found myself using up this month's allotment of talking minutes. I had fun, can you tell?

What have I been doing this weekend?

I did absolutely nothing and it was everything that I thought it could be.

I might have seen Office Space to get reacquainted with one of my favorite movies. In between that and doing nothing, I've been enjoying the sun, shopping and packing for a trip that I will be taking in about four hours.

I don't want to reveal where I'm headed until I get back, but what I can say is that I'm extremely excited. The nervous energy and anticipation have been building up over the last couple of days. This will be my first visit and there is so much I want to see and experience. I have this indescribable feeling, almost a premonition, that this trip will impact my life. I'm sure I'll reread that sentence someday and wonder what I was thinking. Perhaps it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If everything goes well, I will be back and posting again soon. Until then, enjoy the silence.

I often wonder if the way I write or what I write gives a clear indication of my age. Don't look!

You looked, didn't you. Anyway, what triggered my curiosity was a word processing application, it-which-shall-not-be-named, that provides two readability scores when "checking" grammar.

One of them is the Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level Score. Based on the number of syllables per word and words per sentence, it provides a school grade equivalent. If this entry received an 8.0, a person with an 8th grade education would supposedly be able to read and understand what I wrote.

I think it's very difficult to ascertain a person's age from only his or her writing. Pop culture references may be useful in narrowing down the age range. Based on reasoning or grammar, one could guess if the author is well-read and highly educated. Emotional responses or insights might be a clue as to the author's maturity level. Yet, intellect and emotional maturity can be completely independent of one's age.

It would be nice if there was an application add-in that could simply analyze a piece of writing and determine the author's age. For example...

"Upon analysis, the author has an intellectual age of 18 and the emotional maturity of a 16 year old. These two indicators, along with the Harry Potter and Blink-182 references, are typical of a freshman in high school."

That would be interesting.

My friends say I should act my age.
What's my age again?

I only meant to whisper, now I only want to hide.
Let some silence fill the time and let the words fade away.
If this journal is a song, it's played pianissimo.
An obscure etude amongst these masterful symphonies.

As this journal persists, two theories about it run through my head.

1. Writing meaningless fluff is good practice for writing even more meaningless fluff.

It's a pessimistic view that believes I will take the easy route in my chronicles and succumb to the trends that dominate more "popular" blogs. It proposes that I will avoid any deep introspection in fear that it will reveal some ugly truths, not only to myself, but to everybody else. It believes I will try to avoid rejection by misguidedly remaining upbeat and digestible.

2. Writing meaningless fluff will flush out my system and allow me to write more meaningful... fluff.

A more optimistic view that believes greater truths can be revealed by publicly working through my thoughts. It assumes watchful eyes will help me remain honest, unlike a private diary, where I could possibly lie to myself and stagnate in self-pity. It relies heavily on the assumption that there are meaningful ideas in my head.

Writing here gives me a sense that while I may touch on certain insecurities, there is a unseen force that won't allow me to remain idle. In this forum, I must hold myself more accountable. I imagine an invisible audience that would like to see this story progress and the main character get off his butt and do something.

Deep down, the second theory also believes "meaningless fluff" isn't really so meaningless. To be so cynical is to take myself too seriously. Plus, it would be denying the part of me that is a complete idiot.

One of my many bad habits is tinkering, especially web tinkering. It's time consuming and highly unproductive. Small changes made one at a time. Over the last couple of hours, I've been fiddling with the sidebar and archives. I made some progress, implemented the changes only to be bugged by something and undoing it all.

At the moment, I'm unsatisfied with the clutter I've created, but I'm unwilling to commit to eliminating anything. I've been diving into CSS and HTML. I know just enough to be dangerous and too little to be effective. I've also been poking around PHP and I wouldn't be surprised if something breaks really soon.

I should probably give up now and get some sleep so that I'm able to make tomorrow's train.

Last night, I attempted to eat a quick dinner while at work. I was hurrying to make it to the Coffee Society in Cupertino. That was where other bloggers from the around San Jose would be meeting. They get together once a month through an informal arrangement on Weblogger Meetup. It was my first time and I didn't want to be late.

Although I tried, I was still late. When I first walked in, I completely missed the sign. I ordered a latte valencia and surveyed the cafe. On my second pass, I finally noticed that I had walked right by the sign, which sat in plain view next to the front door. Typical me.

Anyway, the small group of people I met last night were very friendly. For me, there are few things better than laughing and having great conversation over a hot cup of coffee. It was such a refreshing experience, I’m already looking forward to next month's meetup.

A couple days ago, somebody wrote briefly about online vs. real personas. They wondered if they portray themselves on their site differently than they do in real life. It is something I've asked myself on a number of occasions, especially since I'm still new to online journaling and prone to overanalyzing myself.

I believe I portray myself here pretty closely to how I am in real life. For me, it is more satisfying and just easier. When I read old entries, I don't want the feeling that I'm being phony or playing to an audience, saying things that I think others want to hear or simply aping for acceptance. What good would that do me? I've already done and felt that for such a long time in real life and that wasn't satisfying.

Do I worry that people will think that I'm naive, lead an uninteresting life and have poor taste? Yeah I do, but maybe I am naive and have bad taste. I am constantly seeking to be happier and better. I'm constantly attempting to make my life more adventurous, exciting and interesting. I try not worry and guess what others are thinking about me. I struggle with being so self-conscious constantly, both online and in real life.

The other thing I don't want to do is portray myself as this ultra-cool, ultra-smart or ultra-sophisticated person. First of all, I'm not that smart and not that cool. Secondly, I assume that most everybody else is more sophisticated and experienced and will see right through me. Call it expectation management, but if I were to misrepresent myself and then meet anybody who actually reads this, I would never be able to reconcile the real me with the guy they've read about. That would be unfair to everybody. To show myself as somebody I'm not is self-defeating.

It is all about context. The personality portrayed here is me with a little time delay and slightly better grammar. I reveal some traits here that I may not in real life and there are things that I would only confess to in real life. I bet this is true for almost everybody I read. Plus, isn't it sometimes more revealing all the things I don't say? What you see is just a different angle of the same guy in all his magnificent simplicity.

It is always fun to be up at midnight or 1 AM when I suddenly have the inclination to write something down and my web host service is down for "data migration". I can view my journal but make no entry, like opening my mouth to speak and realizing that I'm mute.

Granted, the ideas I wanted to put down weren't all that amazing. But it would be nice to post them all the same, at the time they actually occur. Real-time thinking. Physical evidence that I have brain activity. Instead, I end up feverishly scribbling them on paper as the thoughts escape my mind like a slow leak and then backfilling entries. Aargh!

What is in a name? I've been meaning to write an explanation as to why I chose "Lonely Sea Light". I thought I should write about it before my original reasoning fades away.

I was looking for something to express a number of things about myself. My terminal loneliness, my love for the beach, my love of music and my engineering profession. There aren't many titles that fit that description without taking up a few lines of text. But in a brainstorming fit, the current one came to me.

I started with the idea of naming it after a lighthouse, like Long Point Light or Portland Head Light. But those weren't very suitable, so I looked to music to find something more appropriate and found a Beach Boys song. Forty-one years ago, Brian Wilson wrote "Lonely Sea", one of the most hauntingly beautiful surf songs I've ever heard.

The lonely sea
It never stops
For you or me
It moves along
From day to day

That's why my love
You'll never stay

This pain in my heart
These tears in my eyes
Please tell the truth
You're like the lonely sea

Taken another way, the name expresses my tendency to temper my sadness with humor and laughter. I may be stranded in the vastness of a dark and lonely sea, but the distant light gives me direction, gives me hope.

Deconstructing a name and the motives behind it is a little too demystifying. I already have pangs of regret for even trying to explain it, perhaps making too much of it. I wonder if the future me will appreciate the time it took for the present me to overanalyze these three simple words.

It would be nice if I could make a decision on how to display the photos I took with my relatively new digital camera. I have pictures dating back to Thanksgiving residing on my hard drive. Thanks to procrastination and need to get the layout just so, they still sit there.

I am becoming aware that I have the annoying habit of writing what I feel and then censoring or revising it. It goes beyond grammar and spelling, which I believe should be done just for readability's sake. The self-editing is my own personal spin control. From here on out, I am aiming for less spin and more truth.

Many of the online journals that I read are catalysts for me. They pique my curiosity to listen to different music (They Might Be Giants or Aimee Mann), read other authors (like May Sarton or Nick Hornby's High Fidelity) and see other movies (I'm really looking forward to Hero). They open my eyes to different points-of-view... well-articulated, funny, insightful points-of-view. Some reaffirm that the doubts I feel are not mine alone, but doubts shared by others as well. I appreciate and admire them all. They are people who are willing to show and share themselves and their lives. They inspire and motivate me.