Playing catch-up

Phew, that was close. I thought I might have lost my site there for a second. I tried upgrading MovableType to version 3.3, something went awry and suddenly I had no more access to my blog. Luckily I had the foresight to back up all my entries, but all my templates and comments would have been lost. Thankfully I fixed a few permissions here and a Perl location there and things seem to be hunky dory again.

It's been a busy couple weeks, Christmas, then New Years, then school starting again and all the while workingworkingworking. It's nice to be busy, but always an adjustment after several weeks of a relatively sedentary lifestyle.

I like my classes this quarter. Advanced Desktop Publishing promises to be the challenge that Beginning Desktop Publishing never was. My American Literature survey hasn't seen the most interesting reading material yet—for some reason I haven't ever been able to enjoy Colonial American Literature—but the professor is fascinatingly dorky and ridiculously enthusiastic about the material and is really making class fun. And I'm also enrolled in a wine tasting course, which is already fun and we've barely got into the real meat of actual tasting of different wines yet. I'm really looking forward to actually developing a palate for wine like I have recently for beer.

God, I love the unrestricted elective requirement.

And now for something completely different. Have you ever found yourself feeling almost sorry for the makers of the relics of your childhood, as if yours was the only generation that could experience those things? Also, it's almost embarrasing to find out that they're still being made. For example, did you know that they're still writing new Berenstain Bears books? When I see that I almost feel bad for poor Stan and Jan Berenstain. Don't they know my sisters and I no longer read them? I feel, even while realizing how foolish it is, that there couldn't possibly be kids who actually read Berenstain Bears, that it was strictly a c. 1988-1993 phenomenon. And I'm pretty sure I felt morbidly embarassed for R.L. Stine the exact second I decided to stop reading Goosebumps books.

It's like the first time I saw Jimmy Eat World when I was in high school, before they got on the radio, and I worried that my friends and I would be the only ones in the audience, and wouldn't that be embarassing. Somehow, in my subconscious, my enjoyment of a piece of media is necessary for the continued success of that media. I think this might be a common phenomenon, but then again I might be alone here. If so it probably speaks volumes as to my sense of self importance, and my future therapists will do well to visit this blog.