Templates baby. Not gifs. TEMPLATES.

I have a confession. I don't know why I work so hard on this site. I keep thinking that if my web site looks good, then my writing will get good. If my writing gets good, then maybe I'll have the energy to tackle this master's project.

With that logic, I might as well crawl in a greasy pothole and wait for summer. It's late again.

My boyfriend's in bed. The cats are playing with my socks and I'm revamping my site for the third time this week. You didn't see version 1. It was ridiculous. Version 2 brought me to tears. But version 3 here, it feels strange. Like climbing a hill that you thought much bigger, I'm surprised by how small the horizon is. How short my breaths are.

I'll be here for a while. Rereading all the freshly formatted files. I'm starting to doubt that the content deserved such hard work. I'm dealing with hundreds of pages here. Hundreds. Lots of blah blahs and yadda yaddas, a couple of birds, a boat or two, and then I start thinking about you. How much trouble I've gone to in order to show you . Will you read it? Can we talk about it one day and laugh at those queer theory notes? Maybe not. That's the nature of this thing, I guess. The silence.