One Less Resolution

By the time you read this, I may be in bed.

You may be reading this at four, maybe five o’clock in the afternoon.

No matter.

I will be fast asleep.

I will be fast asleep and will have been fast asleep for hours now.

There are still links that may be broken. Post photos that need resizing.

But I? I am asleep.

One of my New Year’s Resolutions for 2010: Finish what you start.
Another: Never, ever, ever give up.

BFam has cursed me loudly for that last one these past few days.

Hope you guys like the site. Thanks for your patience.

Image: Surrender by *Odora on deviantART

Finding Beauty In Mistakes

You guys.

This has been one rough week.

I could write a list of things that went wrong. Then again, you probably saw most of what would be on that list right here on this site. The next time I wake up one morning and decide I am a website designer, I want you to reach your arms through the monitors of your computers, wrap your loving arms firmly around my neck… and shake me. Hard.

This past week has been the worst in major catastrophes for this site alone, and it is totally, utterly, INEXPLICABLY my fault. I can’t blame faulty equipment. Can’t blame the design forums. Can’t blame my hosting provider. Can’t blame the poor techno-geeks who, after the 5,000th question, surely realized they had an amateur on their hands. I could literally feel their Coke-bottled glasses shaking at me in shame.

I must say I’ve learned a lot about my skills and limitations this week. I’ve also learned that when you think you need to take a break, step back from the computer, maybe stop writing on the site for a while and get your head together, reflect on having turned 32 and all those good things, the craziest thing happens. The universe takes you seriously, makes your site completely unusable, throws your design askew, and then says here. You wanted a break? You got one.

In my time away (aside from the hours, and hours… and more hours spent planted right here in the battleground of PHP, FTP and CSS), you’ll take heart in knowing I missed you guys… the one or two of you that may still be out there. I took lots of pictures, had some great moments that made me go hey! I need to write about this! Then had both kids contaminated with H1N1 (or some form of it), while me and BFam tackled our respective head colds.

Did I mention I turned 32?

Good times. Good times.

More to come in the days ahead. Promise. And to those who stuck around… thanks.

Because Nothing Rhymes With Bossy

If you’re visiting from the land of i am bossy, Hello! Hi! Howdy! W’sup?! Que pasa! Namaste!

Alright, now I’m feeling like the Flickr home page.

Just wanted to welcome any new readers. I took the plastic off the furniture for you. Why, yes, that IS Febreze you smell. Sorry, I forgot to do the dishes. Too busy burning chocolate and what not.

Take a look around. Make yourselves comfortable. If you want a quick and dirty rundown, I can do that for you…

* Here’s a little about me and the site.
* I’ve got a comment policy. If you’re not into negativity or racial slurs then LOOK AT THAT! You’re in the clear. Keep moving. Nothing to see there.
* I Twitter. I Facebook. I juggle fruit while riding a unicycle! Contact me! I’ve lost my mind!
* I’m nice. Really.
* I’m not a mommy blogger. Sorry. I might get mistaken for one but, sadly, no. Wait! DON’T LEAVE! I’LL MAKE YOU S’MORES! I’LL TEACH YOUR CHILDREN THE ALPHABET!
* I write about FEARs. What is that? Why? What’s wrong with you?! Sounds weird. I know. What person in their right mind is scared of that much stuff without being locked up in a padded room somewhere, you may ask. Who’s to say that’s not where I’m typing from? Hm? HMMMMM?!

I love you. You’re awesome. Bossy’s awesome for featuring me. We’re all awesome. (Commenters are especially awesome because YOU’RE ALIVE! YOU’RE BREATHING! I WANT TO SMOOSH YOUR FACE WITH LOVE!)

Let’s all be awesome and rock out, shall we?

Hacked!

I never saw it coming. Then again, who does?

See this picture?


Probably the scariest image of Heath Ledger (God rest his soul) I’ve ever seen. This was the image, along with some other garble about being hacked and nah-nah-ni-boo-boo going on, that met my viewers (and, eventually, me) this past Friday. And I know it’s disturbing and frightening. But I believe that’s how all attackers want their victims to feel.

I am not a Webmaster. As part of my real job, I maintain websites. I update their information and change graphics around. My coding knowledge is limited on a need-to-know basis. This doesn’t mean I don’t have the desire to learn more. I would love to be the master of my own site – design, maintain, code, code, code. I am a closet techie geek. I have techie geek envy. Do I want to give money I don’t have to someone else to do something I can probably do if I had the time? No. I’d love to have a site fully, totally, completely belong to me.

And then, my site got hacked.

In the past 72 hours, I’ve wanted nothing more than to do away with this site. I haven’t wanted to touch it. I’ve wanted to give it to someone else, let it be their problem. I’ve been on the phone with my site provider’s technicians, asking questions I’m not sure I’m asking correctly, getting answers that may as well be in Chinese. Too many times, I’ve prefaced each question with, “I’ve never had this happen before”, or “I don’t know what I’m doing”, or “Hey, did I happen to mention I’ve never had this happen before, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I need you to talk to me like someone who’s not a Webmaster?”

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned about this whole ordeal is this: People are assholes. The other thing: If you have your own domain and hosting provider (that should, please dear God, be available 24/7), and your site gets hacked? Pick up the phone. Call them. Do not conduct a live chat on their website. I don’t care how inviting and cute that little box looks. I don’t care how convenient it might be. I don’t care if you absolutely, positively HATE talking on the phone because you already do it for a living at your Call Center day job. I don’t care. Do you hear me? Call them. I cannot stress this enough. I mean, I can but you don’t want me driving from hick-Ohio all the way to Wherever-You-Are, America because then I’ll be mad AND telling you off. And I’m black. So you know there will be finger-waving and neck-rolling involved.

In the past 72 hours, I have wanted to quit. I don’t quit often. But the timing of this hack has been nothing short of horrendous. I’m already stressed. I’m already stretched thin. And the one place – THE ONE PLACE – I go to seek solace gets hacked. God is trying to tell me something. But I really need Him to speak plain English right about now.

Of course, I’ve sought comfort from my family. My mother’s brain has been amazing because she remembered all but one of the posts I lost from this past week. BFam, on the other hand… *sigh*.

My husband.

God love him. If ever I need instances I married my grandfather, let things fall apart. Let something be broken. Let me just want to die and crawl in a corner. These elements make for a catastrophe. To this catastrophe, his response is to respond in either fashion:
1) Him: Oh my gawd, it’s broken. I can’t do it. It won’t work. All is going to hell. We’re all going to die.
Me: What do you want me to do about it?
Him: Nothing. I was just telling you.

2) Yell at it like a drill sergeant. “HOW DARE YOU?! HOW DARE YOU QUIT ON ME?! DON’T YOU GO QUITTIN’ ON ME, SOLDIER! YOU WILL FINISH THIS SITE! YOU WILL MAKE IT GO LIVE AGAIN! YOU WILL STOP CRYIN’ LIKE A SISSY WOMAN! NOW DROP ON THE FLOOR AND GIVE ME TWINNY, SOLDIER! GO, GO, GO! MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!” I wish I were exaggerating.

The site is live.

I think the coast is clear again.

I think.

I hope.

I’ve recovered every post save for Friday. I may dig in the recesses of my mind and re-write it again. The jury is still out.

I hate being a Webmaster.

I’m not sure why, in a sea of millions of blogs (me being over 2 million in Technorati ranking), I was hit. I’ve come to understand who I am and what’s on my site doesn’t matter. It wasn’t an arch enemy. It wasn’t that mean girl in grade school who spent almost every other week trying to beat the living crap outta me. It was some kid who was bored and wondered if he/she could. Who saw an opportunity and thought to themselves, “Wonder if I could upend the journal of this one no-name person’s life? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

I’m going to bed now. Wake me up next year.