Overhauled the code

 

Thanks to this person for creating this attribution-free image above. I had a brief burst of energy to revisit and make minor tweaks on this blog's html code. Back in the mid-2000s, I taught myself html to create this layout from an existing blogger theme apart from customizing my MySpace. I spent countless hours finding the hex colour that is currently my background: a greyish brownish muted rose (which you can see if you are reading via web view). I still think that this colour represents me. I don't know how to explain why...in the same way that a major7 chord or a chord progression that is reminiscent of a Kalapana song (e.g. "Nightbird" or "The Hurt" (update: I initially included "Dance with Me" but that wasn't a Kalapana song but an Orleans song--I like that too)) are near the bullseye of my essence...soul...constitution...basic unit of operation....am I a variant? We're watching Loki so excuse this very specific pop culture reference of the "variant" who is essentially a person/being who is from a particular time in the universe and has created some fork ("nexus event") in the "sacred timeline" thus veering away from his/her/their/it's predestination.

Perhaps, really, I'm an anti-variant variant and by following algebraic rules we cancel out the last two words and I am just "I'm an". QED. I'm just a common regular ordinary garden variety existence filler. I attribute this uncontrolled train of thought to literature. I'm rereading "Sophie's World" together with "A Grief Observed". Plus I'm reading C.S. Lewis's "The Magician's Nephew" with my little ones. Self-imposed Existential Angst: SEA.

HTML to SEA. 

Come with me 

and you'll be 

in a world of pure imagination...

Why bakit por que?

Have you ever been in the zone of what you needed to do that you become deaf to your surroundings? As if the world is at a standstill and you’re moving at your own pace, laser-focused on whatever it is you’re doing until someone screams your name angrily to get your attention? Then your heart rate accelerates and you instantly become stressed because you may have done something wrong or may have failed to do something right—whichever applies? Then you’re exhausted. But later find your mind so active like a hoarder who is desperately finding something but not really certain of what it is you’re actually looking for? And so you try to make this thing concrete by writing it down hoping that you can get rid of whatever it is that is stuck somewhere in your skull? Then you take refuge in some pseudoscience and you become more confused and not comforted at all?

Telegram from the omniscient

Well, aren't we on a blogger roll today cyberpseudofriends?...

Another nugget of wisdom from today's reflection featuring a poem by St. Teresa of Calcutta:

Nineties flashback and music

Photo by Karolina Grabowska from Pexels

A long time ago during the mid-to-late 90s, it was an "in" thing to be in a band...and join battles of the bands or perform in high school variety shows or rent a cheap recording studio so your amateur band could create demos of covers. If your parents were the cool type, they would give you your own beeper (a.k.a. pager). One would own loads of stationery (scented or made from recycled paper) and different coloured gel pens so you could write notes and pass them during class (preferably in between classes). After periodical exams, you and your friends would go to the nearest arcade and have your sticker photos taken. You would go to the school/office supplies store and shop for pens and more stationery. You owned a boom box and lots of blank cassette tapes or "burnable" CDs...made mixed records and gave them out as gifts. You had graduation photos printed in multiple "wallet" sized copies so you could write dedications at the back and give them to your closest friends. 

This clouded, hodgepodge, mental trip down memory lane is certainly grammatically criminal. So in the spirit of rogue English syntax, I abruptly shift from the second person to the first person then third person...

I would very much like to possess an electric guitar, amplifier, and those special effects pedals that I have never tried in my life. Maybe pretend to be the late Dolores O'Riordan and sing "Linger" with an Irish accent. I'll just entertain the thought and wait for as long as I can until this fixation fades away. Or not. We'll see. One should probably give attention to things or tools that are available...such as the instruments one (I) currently own(s). There are many other important bullet items on the list of what Needs to be done as opposed to what one Wants to do.  

 

I was sermoned

The screenshot below is from https://www.regnumchristi.org/ which is today's meditation on the Laudate app. Before you fully judge me and entertain the thought that I'm virtue signalling (ooh, she's a show-off-meditator-ne'er-do-bad-goody-goody-blah-blah), read it at least. Honestly, this is like eating a salad of unsolicited advice with a side of self-imposed guilt trip--the many ways in which I tell myself that I'm a sinner and require spiritual monitoring and evaluation. Note: this is a Benadryl-induced post. Tis the season of hypersensitivity.