When is now?

It's almost there, no, really this time, oh, I'm very close, if only you wait a little longer... this, and many other similar utterings, is a recurring theme in my life. (Although thankfully, I'm not getting the full anorgasmia experience from my antidepressants. Mostly a good thing, but it's not doing my chronic fatigue any favours.)

Certain projects are still like this (sorry Clickteam, and yes, dad, I'll get round to your ideas too), but I have several years' of stalled development to catch up on and only so many hours in a day to do it in. This very blog was one of those projects - an idea, floating around in the pool of my consciousness, and a survivor of the tsunami of depression that wiped away much of my desire to actually implement things. Countless thoughts, projects and concepts weren't so lucky; rotting away on a backup CD or buried in my mind, assuming they haven't turned to earwax and been wiped away by now.

Actually, that would make a better excuse for licking my own earwax than my current reason, "I'm a masochist". Besides, my face doesn't really suit the 'scary weirdo' perception; I like to think of myself as more of a 'quirky, lovable fool', mostly because it's really hard to transcribe the gestures people often use to describe me.

The driving force for actually getting this website set up is the feeling that I have stories to tell, and experiences worth sharing (mostly scrumptious cakes, of which I get asked for recipes heartwarmingly often). I think it's a good sign, but we'll see where it actually goes. Worst case scenario, it turns into a LOLotter blog that does its utmost to tattoo your eyeballs with lewd advertisements for uninventive MMORPGs. Unfocus your eyes and the breasts appear to move!

Pornographic magic-eye pictures could be marketed as accurate 'marriage simulators'. Some people seem to get it all the time, but the rest of us frustrate ourselves spending far too long trying to see the concealed nudity, failing miserably before suddenly copping an eyeful and spending the rest of our lives trying to remember what we did to get there. Oh yes, you might be smiling now, young'uns, but that's going to be your fate. Start researching volumetric displays, holographic hyper-porn won't invent itself, you know.

Sometimes I wonder whether looking like a twat is the price I must pay for individuality. Other times, I wonder what would be louder, the noise a monster truck makes, or the sound of a football-pitch-sized sheet of bubblewrap as said truck drives over it. However much that costs, it's worth it, carbon footprint be damned!

I almost feel like a coherent person. You'll see, just wait a little longer...