I don't know what's been wrong with me, but for the past few days I've been gripped by a compulsion to create stuff. Up at 4 AM. Up until 3 AM.
Thankfully, I've been able to channel this creative burst into mostly harmless and inconsequential activities, like endlessly changing the pixel width of web tables. God forbid I should actually have something to show for it.
Alas, I ran completely out of useless things to do before I was released from the aforesaid grip, so the only recourse - onerous as it was - was to do something marginally productive.
So I turned to this blog. (Since this does me absolutely no good economically, it fits the definition of "marginally productive," so my conscience is marginally clear.)
Naturally, I had to go for a complete redesign of the page first. After I ran out of tables to adjust and page elements to add, modify and delete (repeating as necessary), there was nothing left to do but actually post stuff.
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| IN ONE EAR ... |
I wonder if this is how the great artists felt. Take Vincent Van Gogh, for example. After cleaning all his brushes for the millionth time, he decided to lop off his own ear rather than actually getting down to painting. Now that's dedication. (I, on the other hand, used a nice, safe trimmer to shave my eyebrows - hardly the stuff of legend, much less my Wikipedia bio.)
I hope I'm released from the grip soon. I would hate to run out of marginally productive things and have to turn to - gasp! - things that actually matter ... things like doing my taxes, drumming up paid gigs and fixing the plumbing leak that has given us a wading pool in the living room
That's a fate worse than - well, just ask Meneer Van Gogh.
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