I pride myself on the quality of my website and that instigates a certain amount of fussiness, but I also recognise
that this is my website and I can do with it as I please. I always planned for it to be a personal website
and to write more personally, rather than so formally. I blog for myself, not for some ‘readership’ that must be
appeased. The more my RSS feed turns away people expecting a neatly formatted and consistent stream of coding
articles, the better.
Since the new year I have been in a blind stupor, as if I've remained trapped in 2009, bumbling through this first
month like one giant melodramatic, comic trip. Secular work has been immensely busy (I had to work seven days on one
week), and this has left me with just fleeting moments of thoughts that provide all the time to think about what I
should be doing in my personal life, but no time to do anything about it. Then I had a week off, in which I
was harassed innocently by the mobile phone so often my nerves were strung as tight as a piano’s strings and I
spent the time doing as little as possible and feeling no benefit.
I was asked, what seems a long time ago now, what it is I valued. An innocent enough question. It took me about a
month to answer it. It’s easy enough to come out with a list of things you like the value of. “I value ice
cream”, one can say, and “I value my music collection” and so forth, but these are no more values than farting
is a right. That is confusing values, and value. A value is intrinsically valueless, yet very valuable to have. I
went through a list of things that I could value, but dismissed them as being answers for the sake of
answering—like a public persona that says what others want to hear. That is not me.
I came to the conclusion that the only thing that I value is my own opinion. Depressing as it sounds, it’s
inescapably true. It may make a good designer, but it does not make a good person. Almost everything else around me
could be changed and it would not change me. Do I value my friends? Not that my actions seem to show. I have no
friends offline, or it could be said that I know many acquaintances that would count me as a friend, but that I am
at a loss to find the times when I have nurtured a strong friendship (perhaps I cannot spot the obvious). I am not
rude, nor offensive, nor disrespectful; I'm well known for being the opposite. I actively avoid socialising because
I have a phobia of it, receiving a lot of attention leaves me extremely depressed and feeling unwell. So, as far as
actions speak, I am happy enough to let friendships fade away because I cannot bring myself to stay in touch.
Online, the situation is different, though essentially the same. How well can I say I know somebody, when for the
majority, they exist only as text that has appeared on my screen? It feels like being in a perpetual Turing
test—no offense meant. There’s only one person I think I can count as true blue online friend who I would miss
immeasurably. The people I talk to online regularly certainly have come and gone over the years, so neither can I
say that this represents a value I hold.
That leaves an over apologetic, self righteous, highly talented (but misguided) manic-depressive sap; who’s
extremely pleasant to know. That is why I have been in this stupor, I should be changing, but I'm lagging like an
Now I don’t have any proper way to end this blog post, in that expected formal way. Only realisations and
pressures. But then, I'm not blogging for you… I'm blogging for me.