Tentacular blogworks

So while I’m the last thing from new as far as Macintosh applications and UI development (going on 16 years now), I’m new to publishing of any kind. Make no mistake, HTML is not about programming so much as publishing. Content-tracking, pulling things in from various places, and making sure that it works on a regular and properly-structured basis is an exercise in organization, not engineering.

I am not the Organizer Bunny.

The commenting system I just shunted in is from HaloScan. I followed directions, as a novice cook might follow a recipe, with no appreciation for the particular chemistry of what is going on. This is un-nuanced business for me, folks. As President Jed Bartlett (from The West Wing) said: “Unnuanced days rarely occur without a body count.”

To which I say, “My blogging day is not yet over, people!”

So commenting comes thanks to HaloScan, SFBayBloggers comes through blogrolling, and page counts & tracking come from SiteScan.

Who knew a humble webpage could have so many tentacles, so rapidly?

And soon, with the help of a gloriously-bedecked HTML editor (I don’t want to see the HTML code) for Mac OS X (I haven’t started looking for one yet…anyone know of a good one?) I shall have an About Box/page: context is crucial and personal comments never arise from nothing.

Eventually, I will bring all this into a MoveableType installation on my G4 Cube (which serves you these pages already), but as the old adage goes, too many degrees-of-freedom spoils the blog. Or is it, “too many aphorisms makes your car bumper look tacky”?

I’m taking this bird-by-bird.

Of course, once I do get MT (or some other standards-supporting backend) running on Mac OS X Server, I hope to speedily develop a blogging client application. Mac OS X only, thankyouverymuch—I have no wish to bust my ass working on a slick application only to have it wearing the tacky, tasteless dress of a typical Windows application.

Did I mention I am a Mac guy?

So…bring on the comments, if you would! I love constructive criticism (let’s face it, loving unconstructive criticism usually comes with a penchant for roleplay and a love of leather-hammocks).

My Father, The Ideal

Remember how in that communion only, beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold not of an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and nourishing true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, if mortal man may. — Plato

Jack, in his capacity as my father, is the ideal made real and the real elevated to the ideal.

It would be easy to say that I never appreciated the fact until I was an adult; however, that would be not only trite, but also untrue. I always got it. Seeing that, that is what has always been easy.

His love, for all of us, remains downright blatant, unswerving. His heart, so genuine it sometimes breaks mine. His genius, a gift not measurable by academics, but obvious within moments. His soul, the soul of perhaps every father who ever was, every grandfather whoever was, inhabits this man.

When he began his role as grandfather, I was 20 years old. The new angle provided by my ringside seat on his fathering skills (as opposed to being directly in the path of it) did not teach me anything I did not already know about him, just that all those wonderful things I did know continued to be true, and that I was right all along.

The core of my humanity comes from this man, and of course, from my mother.

The gifts of the Mother include incisiveness, self-confidence, analytical intelligence. The sole gift of the Father is the reminder that those things can often fail you, but that all is not lost if you hold tight to your own strong sense of place, something defined by the generosity of spirit given and received in abundant exchange by those you love.

I love you, Dad.