After ten and a half months of operation, the first-ever review of rapidfish.org went online today. In theory, I shouldn't be mentioning this because of the troubles the site hosting the review has had with bandwidth, but I've alluded to the mighty Order before, so I'll just go on.

The review read, in its entirety, "dumbity dumb," which is about how I was feeling about my rooms in the little loft here. The drapes don't match the furniture, there's a big juice stain on the rug, and yet I seem to keep talking about it all. And talking about it. And talking about it! When I'm "in the flat," I talk about nothing else. It's not that I'm the most boring person in the world, or the least creative, really, I'm not. Just before typing this, a new layout popped into my head; with a copy of Fireworks and an HTML style manual at my disposal, there's no reason I shouldn't be able to make something of it. And while sweeping the floor at work, I came up with a little essay about love and frozen hell-holes. So it's not either of those at all. It's just that I have a hard time putting my opinions and feeling (one at a time, or things get confusing) on paper, let alone on a computer or on the internet. Doing anything at home is hard enough, seeing as how I'm living with the family for the summer. How any grown adult can survive living at home--especially when sharing space with younger siblings--eludes me, though my bafflement might depend on my unique relationship with my family. But expressing anything more complex than "yes, the weather is fine" seems so difficult to me for some reason, and has ever since... well, since about 9 p.m. on February 1, 2000. I can fiddle with HTML or Perl all I want; unless I change who I am, the problem will remain: everything's just welled up inside, waiting not to burst out but to be quietly forgotten. And until I figure out how to move beyond this barrier, I, too, will just be quietly forgotten.

It's all rather abstract, and I should probably be explaining this to someone who cares instead of indifferent strangers who now think I'm just another whiny prat, but I'm even worse expressing myself in spoken words, and anyway my work schedule for the most part precludes interaction with ordinary, day-walking humans. So I guess instead I rant to the 'Fish. Blast.

I'll work on redesigning, though, soon. If I can't entertain with my life story, perhaps I can whip up some amusing digital content and a more palatable interface. And maybe, of course, I just don't care about the Internet to do so, as the Internet won't catch a movie with me, or ask me for a ride to Spearfish, or know anything at all about my diff/eq homework. I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow.

It's now 2:44 in the morning, by the way. Hopefully later I will remember I wrote this, and also to spell-check my foolish ramblings first. After all, the 'Fish is "dumbity dumb"--not "dumitie dumm", eh?

Note to self: new slogan, "rapid fish dot org: we're working on it."