The darkness that heralds a storm was crossing the lake and bringing along a strong breeze. Heavy drops fell slow then rapidly intensified. I took shelter behind the thick trunk of a maple tree. The storm passed quickly leaving the woodland damp and misty.
So… these are the lessons I’ve “learned” this week.
- Don’t oversaturate photos
- Writing on images is hard
- I feel like it is significantly more difficult to write than the last time I tried this. The words don’t flow. And the sentences don’t feel coherent.
- I feel like an idiot
- The amount of time it takes me to throw together even the smallest post is incredible.
I’m working on my biking posts. The first one is finished, short, and feels unimportant and insignificant. The second one also feels unimportant, but I’m trying to combine a map in the post. I want it to be awesome, and I’m about to take off on a tangent. A couple years ago I saw a post where the writer walked a trail or something and then wrote about it. It was beautiful. As you scrolled down the screen the map updated so you could follow along. Words would disappear into pictures and back again. It was a perfect example of how to use the web to tell that story. I may have even discovered it somewhere that was using it as an example of the web done right. I, on the other hand, am struggling with using google earth and what I don’t like about it. The alternative seems to be drawing my own map in MSPaint. In other words, my vision far exceeds my talent.
- My vision far exceeds my talent
I stepped outside wondering if I could find signs of the rain I had missed.
I biked through the neighborhood the day after our trip. This is the road that I failed to take. The road that looked too busy. In the spring the crabapple trees that line this street bloom for a week. Their petals shower the sidewalks and float in the air thick with perfume. For a week this street is a magical place.
I don’t know what happened to me. This blog was nothing complicated. There were thoughts that became words that were typed out and became entries. The meta was no more complicated. Just write. Blog. Learn to add photos to blog posts. Learn what works and what doesn’t. At some point, real early too, that went out the window. I became concerned with quality… which leads to shame, which leads to not blogging. Well, fuck the quality! And fuck rules on the usage of grammer and spelling and all that other stuff! (Old me would have corrected grammar-newer old me would have used it to learn how to put a squiggly red line under it so you could see the need for correction as quickly as I did. New me realizes I’m struggling with problems at a much greater foundational level than learning how to insert an image smoothly into a post… and that new old me used searching for some obscure method for modifying blog posts as an excuse to not write blog posts. I mean, new me will try to fix grammatical errors as they occur, I’m not a barbarian (I was going to say I’m not a philistine but I googled that word and I might be one) but new me will firstly focus on (what’s an f word for producing?) writing.
…and like a great sewer my mind will spew forth ideas.
I feel… not creative, maybe the word is productive, or maybe it’s more like a blockage has been removed, and like a great sewer my mind will spew forth ideas. I don’t know what the protocol is here. I have three more entries in my pointless biking series. And they seem ready to write, if not ready to go. I think I’ll avoid hitting publish and just schedule them out. (Why?) And I’ll work on the lesson of blogging. And maybe, I’ll learn the lesson that everything is not for public consumption.
Meghan and I have been planning our ride for nearly two or more years now. It was imperative for her to purchase a new bike, the old one was no longer useful and a rented one she had accused of sexual impropriety. After finding a new bike we procured a new bike seat, new bike lock, new bike rack… always something between us and the ride. I never let it get me down, never took it as a hint that maybe she didn’t want to take a ride. That these were stalling tactics. Nonsense.
We took a short jaunt, basically around the block.
The neighborhood: suburban idyllic / urban upheaval. The timing was rush hour, and even the back streets we took through the neighborhood were filled with cars and trucks heading homeward. Honestly, the traffic was insignificant, but seeing that we hadn’t been out in years it was more than either of us wanted.
She left me in charge of the navigation and every decision I made led to higher traffic. I went over the route the next day… and one of the streets I avoided because it looked busy turned out to be one of the nicest roads on the trip.
When we got back home, she was unhappy because of the ride and I was unhappy because that’s my natural reaction to someone else’s unhappiness.
Sunset at the White St. Pier. This is my second attempt.