Mrs Hg and I have been excessively dutiful and productive race-rats recently and consequently we've been running on empty fuel tanks for the past week or two. Therefore, tomorrow we're dragging our limp, battered bodies to a swanky hotel somewhere deep in the heart of England for a few days of rest and recuperation.

The plan involves lots of sleeping under crisp white linen sheets, restorative walks in the hotel grounds and possibly more than a little time spent in its bar and restaurant. There is also a spa, where Mrs Hg will have her aching muscles pummeled by a suave masseur (no doubt called Roger). In turn, I will be at the mercy of some ethereal, willowy young woman, whose task is to place hot stones on strategically selected parts of my body in order to help me to get in touch with my inner rock.

Once we've regained the use of our limbs, if we can fit it into our hectic relaxation schedule we'll be trying to venture out into the surrounding countryside for bagels and macchiato at one of those rustic Starbucks places. There may even be some taking of photographs.

Looking forward to it immensely. See you soon.

Posted by Hg on Friday 26 July 2002 at 16:02.
Received 6 comments so far.

Prol links to an interesting article on people's attitudes towards those who choose not to have children. As someone who has deferred the choice thus far (rather than actively making a decision), I know I could be accused of sitting on the fence. As ever, the advantage of this position is the opportunity that it provides to view both sides of the debate.

What is not covered in the article - though I'm not putting this forward as a reason why the decision not to have children is at all a 'bad' choice - is the way that children's vulnerability and dependence on the parents is incredibly instructive for many adults.

My own experience of my wife and I looking after an eleven-month old Niece #1 for a week at the age of 26, with absolutely no idea whatsoever of what we were doing, was a complete revelation. It was the first time that the requirement to place someone else's needs before my own was absolutely non-negotiable.

Prior to that, much though I had made slushy, Prince-like "I Would Die 4 U" declarations to my girlfriend/wife, it was a choice. With a baby it's much harder to consider it as a choice because choosing to put your own wishes before those of a clear and present infant takes you several degrees left of heartless into territory that I'm not sure I ever want to discover.

I'm not saying that you can only ever experience that unconditional requirement to put yourself second via contact with babies or children, merely observing that for many people it's the first time that it hits them. Hence why people feel so strongly on the subject.

As ever, it's a case of respecting the other person's point of view. Parents need to respect the fact that their little bundle of joy is not everyone else's little bundle of joy. Also, to understand that their choices are not automatically more valid than the choices of others simply because, by default, they are contributing to the ongoing survival of the human race.

Equally, non-parents need to respect the fact that the parent-child bond is incredibly strong, to an almost primeval degree. To question it - even inadvertently, or by implication (i.e. through not having children themselves) - can provoke an instinctively negative response from the most clear-headed of people, who would probably have no issue with the child-free concept in other circumstances.

Posted by Hg on Thursday 25 July 2002 at 23:02.
Received 2 comments so far.

I've always been ambivalent about the concept of starsigns. I suppose, if pushed, I would say that I don't believe in horoscopes but I'm sympathetic to the notion of astrological cycles.

Not that I think that horoscopes are completely worthless. I read mine regularly and there are particular astrologers whose style appeals to me more than others. I think the principal value of a horoscope is that it provides a random, pseudo-philosophical collection of bite-sized thoughts whose content is generic enough to be applied to most people's lives.

When I read a horoscope saying that an event at work during the middle of the week will cause me to question my approach to conflict, I don't believe that the astrologer has seen a fuzzy picture of myself and a colleague exchanging heated words in his or her crystal ball. If there is any conflict-related event that happens at work in the suggested timescale, I know that its timing is entirely random. However, the horoscope does cause me to think about my approach to the situation.

I guess what I'm saying is that I could just as easily read any of the twelve horoscopes and apply them to my life - the important thing is they prompt me step back and assess something in a more objective way. I observe the circumstances, I observe my reaction to them and I reflect. Not a bad thing.

I'm undecided about astrological cycles. Our planet orbits our sun in a regular pattern. The sun, being a source of energy, has an immense electro-magnetic field. We know that such fields can have an impact on human biology (think of the recent health questions related to living near electric pylons, using mobile phones, MRI scans, and so on).

For me, it's not unrealistic that the electro-magnetic profile at the time that you were born could have an impact on brain chemistry, which in turn affects personality. Dividing these profiles into twelve, based on calendar months, is rather arbitrary, but I can have more sympathy for the notion that people born at the same time of year share similar personality traits.

I first became aware of this phenomenon at college. In our third year, my circle of friends divided itself down into three houses. I was in a house with three other guys and our birthdays were all within three months of each other. The other house of four guys also all had birthdays within three months of each other - exactly six months opposite those of our house. The house of four girls also followed this pattern and two of their three months overlapped with two of the birthday months of my house.

Three of the four people in my house eventually ended up going out with three of the four girls. One couple eventually married (my wife and I) and another pair remains unmarried but still together. The third relationship dissolved slowly and gradually but, as far as I'm aware, they're still friends.

Just coincidence? I have no idea, but I'm certainly open to the fact that there could be something in it.

Posted by Hg on Thursday 25 July 2002 at 12:22.
Received 4 comments so far.

"It is already known that men have fewer connections between the left and right hemispheres of their brain. As emotion is dealt with by the right side of the brain, and speech by the left side, this could explain why men find it more difficult to talk about their emotions."

An interesting theory, though it does beg the chicken-and-egg question of nature vs nurture: which came first, the cultural conditioning that 'tells' men that they don't have to communicate well, or the lack of neural connections that prevents them from doing so?

On a related left-brain/right-brain note, my father is left-handed and he's watching Nephew #2's rather ambiguous manual progress with great interest.

No doubt you're aware that the word 'sinister' comes from the Latin word for 'left' and that the word 'dexterous' comes from the Latin word for 'right'. Right-handed people are therefore skilful, able and adroit (presumably from the French phrase 'à droit' - 'to the right'?) whereas left-handed people are strange, unnatural and evil. 'Ambidexterous' people (who can use both hands with equal skill) are implied to have two right hands.

The English language is fascinating. You have no idea what you're really saying, half the time.

Posted by Hg on Wednesday 24 July 2002 at 12:30.
Received 4 comments so far.

"She may be the reason I survive, The why and wherefore I'm alive, The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years. Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears, And make them all my souvenirs, For where she goes I've got to be, The meaning of my life is she."

The previously internet-phobic person - no, worse: inverted Luddite snob - also known as Mrs Hg now takes great delight in her ability to check flight times online, to explore Flash-enabled sites of huge philosophical significance (Smack The Monkey - it's Zen, right?) and to achieve a higher daily quota of e-mail than her husband.

As in all other areas of the relationship, there is a huge and probably highly unhealthy amount of competition involved. Thankfully the long-suffering husband maintains a quiet confidence in his abilities, based on such arcane arts as the ability to burn CDs, to use e-mail clients other than Hotmail and to maintain a highly organised on-screen desktop with all the little web icons on one side of the screen and all the little music icons on the other.

The husband's weblog is almost never commented on at home, but its address is regularly, proudly, handed out to friends with the oh-so-cool disclaimer "yeah, it's a weblog, he just writes what he thinks." The friends never e-mail the husband to comment on the exquisite writing or the profound insight of his thoughts: clear proof that they have all visited the site.

Yesterday evening, the wife burst into the datacenter - it has shiny flashing lights and multiple operating systems, surely there's no other word for it? - and announced, in a mock accusatory tone, "you never write about me in your weblog." This, from the woman who said six months ago "please never write about me in your weblog."

So, darling, this is for you. I never write about you because even after fifteen years I still don't think that I could sum you up in an entire Proustian novel, let alone a few hastily-concocted paragraphs on a website. You are the most funny, kind, sarcastic, absent-minded, razor-sharp, down to earth, head-in-the-clouds, hard-working, bone idle, stylish, messy, outgoing, annoying, goddam beautiful person that I know. The man who invented the word 'contradiction' would have had a nervous breakdown if he was given the task of describing you.

Your wardrobe has taken over the entire top floor of our house and you've still got nothing to wear. Your taste in music has become impressively eclectic over the past few years, yet you still can't relax to anything other than Lobotomy FM. You live in one of the world's most cosmopolitan cities, yet you have the same Chinese meal every Friday night. You have twenty pairs of identically strappy, pointy shoes, yet you're constantly buying more glossy magazines to keep up with the latest fashions.

None of this frothy nonsense matters, of course. You touch hundreds of lives every day and you fail to realise exactly how extraordinary your gifts are. Your instant rapport with the kids that you teach is enviable - you treat them with the respect that they deserve and it comes back to you tenfold. Ex-students keep in touch because they can't imagine life without you. When your friends or family depend on you, you give yourself willingly and unselfishly. You worry about people because you care, rather than because you think you ought to worry.

You have absolutely no idea what makes you so special, which is precisely what makes you so special. You goof around with your silly voices and your self-deprecation, but you have more power than you could ever realise. You remain the absolute centre of my world - the sun that melts my ice, the light that illuminates my heart of darkness. Frankly: you go, girl. The only pleasure greater than having you all to myself is that of sharing you with others. I just hope I've done you justice.

Posted by Hg on Tuesday 23 July 2002 at 07:02.
Received 9 comments so far.

I had a great weekend (four-word summary: swimming, family, Spitalfields, Terminus), but unfortunately the burglar alarm of the business directly over the road from our house went off at 4am Saturday morning, 6am Sunday morning and 1am this morning, so my Monday jetlag has been more pronounced than usual. Couple that with the fact that this is the first week where I've not had Big Issues to deal with at work and it's hardly surprising that I've been yawning away since breakfast.

It's been a paper shuffling day and, God, did I need it. I don't like writing about work in any detail - believe me, you're not missing out on much - so let's just say that those mentally exhausting, emotionally draining, time-consuming projects or problems that you'd rather only deal with once every month or two... well, I've had about seven or eight hurled in my direction over the past month. Colour-coding the messages in my inbox was all that could reasonably have been expected of me today, quite frankly.

Anyway, the most exciting thing about my Monday was the Alfa Romeo in my rear mirror on the drive home. Its front (I'm sure there's a technical term for it, but the word escapes me at present) looked like Darth Vader's mask, flattened out and sprayed red. Yes, that's about the height of it. Probably a good point at which to stop writing, before you all expire from sheer joy.

Posted by Hg on Monday 22 July 2002 at 20:15.
Received 0 comments so far.

"Can You imagine what Black Sabbath would have sounded like if Ozzy Osbourne, Tony Iommi, Geezer Butler and Bill Ward would have formed the band in the 14th century? Would “War Pigs” or “The Wizard” have been as powerful if played on medieval instruments like lute, fiddle and harp?"

Posted by Hg on Sunday 21 July 2002 at 22:27.
Received 0 comments so far.

Niece #5 is currently around eighteen months old, walking confidently and vocalising enthusiastically, though without any real language as yet. She's a cute kid, but 'cute' in the way that my mother-in-law uses the word, which means roughly the same as its British equivalent with also a hint of intelligence and cunning.

She has a wonderful sideways glance that she does when she knows she's on questionable ground and a broad smile that implies "now, I know this isn't strictly right and you know this isn't strictly right, but look at me - how could you deny me?", which invariably works. She also has the most infectious giggle that I've ever heard in a child. (Remember those chucklebox things? This is worse.)

I love my nieces and nephews dearly. Sometimes I wish they could stay kids forever and at others I'm impatient for them to grow up and venture out into the world so I can see what they make of their lives.

Posted by Hg on Saturday 20 July 2002 at 21:41.
Received 0 comments so far.

Via DOYOUFEELLOVED comes news of the USA's Citizen Corps initiative. I'm wary of commenting on something that I don't fully understand, but here are some generalised thoughts.

Citizenship is a worthy aspiration - if Margaret Thatcher pronounced that there was no such thing as 'society', it's probably safe to assume that exactly the opposite was true - and building and maintaining a community requires proactive effort. An initiative that supports this notion runs the danger of being open to criticism and ridicule, precisely because of the previously discussed caveat that any positive message dissuades as many people as it persuades.

Selfless acts of public service have my full support in principle, if not in the rather hazily-defined patriotic/nationalistic sense advocated by President Bush. However, the Citizen Preparedness Publications have a certain pessimistic and almost entirely unrelated familiarity to them. Duck and Cover, or Protest and Survive, anyone? It's all so damn scared.

Like any right-thinking person, I was appalled, revolted and scared shitless by the events of September 11th. The internal (dis)organisation of the US security forces is now rightly being investigated; lessons will be learned and much-needed changes will be implemented. However, on a personal level I believe that the only real way to assert your belief in your way of life is to pick yourself up and carry on exactly as before. Make changes, restrict individual freedoms, restructure your routine, plan for the worst - essentially, live in fear - and those who attempt to terrorise you have advanced their cause.

Be strong, rather than destroyed.

Posted by Hg on Friday 19 July 2002 at 12:53.
Received 0 comments so far.

The BBC news site has an interesting story on the International Spy Museum in Washington. I was also vaguely aware of this being on in the background on TV this morning while I was scanning the text pages for motorway travel news.

They were showing various items of equipment and just as I pressed the Text button the words 'Rectal Tool Kit' flashed upon the screen, with the well-scrubbed article proudly displayed beneath. Ouch.

Posted by Hg on Thursday 18 July 2002 at 09:14.
Received 0 comments so far.

I realised at the weekend that it's exactly six months today since I started this site. I'd like to do a bit of belated spring-cleaning and clear out the ideas that I said I'd return to but haven't.

I'm sure I've missed some - feel free to remind me. In addition, there have been various things that I've planned but never published. I have around ten drafted items, some two or three months old, where the idea is sound but I haven't yet managed to say what I want to say. You'll see them eventually.

My biggest unrealised project is The Guide To Hydragenic Road Signs - UK road signs gently warped into a parallel universe where philosophy is more important than cars. The first one planned is "Prepare To Align Your Powers With The Forces Of Greater Good." Writing about this, I'm becoming quite enthusiastic about it again - I must try and get my act together on this one.

Posted by Hg on Wednesday 17 July 2002 at 06:52.
Received 4 comments so far.

For the past two or three hectic, work-dominated weeks, I've been sustained and supported by U2's sublime album All That You Can't Leave Behind. Now things are relatively quieter, it's time for a change of soundtrack.

At the weekend I bought Frou Frou's new album, Details. Just as it's entirely feasible to judge a book by its cover, so we can deduce much from this CD's insert. Initially it appears to be rather trendy, glossy and slightly gloomy-looking, but further study reveals a warm, intimate, timeless image with occasional touches of fun.

Frou Frou comprises Guy Sigsworth (former Björk and Madonna collaborator) and Imogen Heap (former solo artist) - this is their first album together. I've only been listening to it since Sunday morning and I must have played it ten times already. If that doesn't sound like much of a compliment, bear in mind that I was at work for most of the weekend.

I know it's somewhat lazy to review an album by comparing it to lots of other artists, but frankly I've had a busy month so please excuse the list of pointers that follows. Fundamentally this album reminds me of the raw, languid folkiness of Beth Orton crossed with the gorgeous swooning and pristine production values of late-period Cocteau Twins (thinking specifically of Heaven Or Las Vegas).

However, it doesn't end there. There are nuances of what Dido could have been, with singing lessons and more adventurous musicians. There are occasional hints of Sinead O'Connor's passion, the prettiness of Alisha's Attic and Björk's off-planet spaciness. Frequently the multi-track harmonies remind me of Abba, the gliding and swooping of the voice is reminiscent of The Cranberries and the glistening sheen of the production brings to mind Moloko's classier moments (for example, The Time Is Now). On more than one occasion I've heard echoes of the only song that I like by The Corrs, What Can I Do? I've also had fleeting thoughts of a less fluorescent Lush or The Sundays on Prozac.

Moving away from these specific comparisons, this is a beautiful July album, full of sunshine, life and longing. The fact that the skewed lyrics are occasionally at odds with the beauty of the music only makes the whole prospect more intriguing. Highly recommended.

Posted by Hg on Tuesday 16 July 2002 at 11:12.
Received 3 comments so far.

I haven't really got into this year's Big Brother show at all. However, The Missus likes to watch the companion show Big Brother's Little Brother while we're having dinner. One of Dermot O'Leary's guests this evening was the wonderfully dry Drusilla Beyfus, a specialist in modern manners and etiquette, brought in to comment on the frequently appalling behaviour of the contestants.

With an apparent lack of irony, O'Leary asked her "So, Drusilla, urinating in the shower - where do you stand on that?" If you can stop howling with laughter for long enough to care, the correct form is that it's acceptable if solo, but not in company.

I used to read her newspaper column. Initially I was very sceptical of the notion of 'good' and 'bad' manners, but I slowly warmed to her precise, good-humoured tone. In the flesh she's considerably less schoolmarmish than I had expected - imagine a more smiley Isabella Rosselini in another decade or two. Excuse me for having a virtually-transgendered Sex and the City moment, but her shoes were fab.

I can't really find much on the web about her, but I was surprised to discover that her daughter (by the theatre critic Milton Shulman) is the editor of the UK edition of Vogue, Alexandra Shulman. It also raised a smile to see that Compaq engaged her to create a guide to PDA etiquette, in which she cautions against poor digital manners as exemplified by nightmarish mobile phone ringtones. Quite, how frightful.

Posted by Hg on Monday 15 July 2002 at 20:10.
Received 2 comments so far.

"Being alive is about shedding. From the moment you're born, you should be shedding. I don't want any of it. Baby clothes? I don't want them. I don't want your pappy baby food. No. Let me be. Leave me to grow and develop in my own way. Repudiate and repel, that's the thing. Stuff all the hereditary shite we're all fed. Let me find my own way."

Dylan Moran, in an interesting joint interview with himself and Conor McPherson in Saturday's edition of the Guardian.

Posted by Hg on Monday 15 July 2002 at 12:15.
Received 0 comments so far.

"When you sell your brains, everybody accepts that. When it's tits and ass that you are selling, people get offended. Everyone feels it's normal to sell your brains to the tobacco industry or to nuclear weapons or whatever. It feels decent. Selling your body is indecent and that has to do with the culture we're living in, a Judaeo-Christian one, a religion that has made sexuality the lowest form of existence for 2,000 years."

The film director Paul Verhoeven is featured in this week's Sunday Times, in an article on that scene in Basic Instinct.

Posted by Hg on Monday 15 July 2002 at 06:47.
Received 5 comments so far.

"Earth's population will be forced to colonise two planets within 50 years if natural resources continue to be exploited at the current rate, according to a report out this week."

I've been reading too many satirical sites recently. I did a double-take when I saw this story and had to check the URL to make sure that I wasn't somehow on The Onion by accident.

Posted by Hg on Saturday 13 July 2002 at 20:52.
Received 0 comments so far.

Three cheers for Prol, who has polished up the Hydragenic logo and smoothed the jagged edges. It took her about three minutes to do this (muttering "one less eyesore on the web" as she worked), whereas it took me over an hour to do the original spiky one.

Trying to impart the logo philosophy to her (pretentious, moi?), I came up with "Germanic euro-precision teamed with American gothic schlock". You needed to know that.

Posted by Hg on Saturday 13 July 2002 at 09:24.
Received 2 comments so far.

"Mayall, again dressed as Hitler, is speeding round his large country estate on a swastika-bedecked 1000cc quad bike, slowing down occasionally to bludgeon pheasants with a heavy BAFTA award. Howling like a banshee and covered in blood and feathers, he roars into the home strait..."

Those bad, baad boys at shiny monkey imagine a follow-on advert to Rik Mayall's ludicrous recent appearance as Hitler in a British anti-Euro (currency) promo.

Also via the same site: rathergood.com. Check out the Blode tales (sound required), on which I think I've just become hooked. Incredibly cute, but with enough weirdness to keep things interesting. T-shirts too!

Posted by Hg on Friday 12 July 2002 at 20:58.
Received 0 comments so far.

"It's difficult to be positive without making people feel nauseous"

A great Jarvis Cocker quote, via the ever-thoughtful exiting winter. The thing I've found about trying to be positive and striving for contentment is that sometimes it can be damn hard work. Maybe if people had more insight into how challenging it can be, they'd be more likely to regard it as something to be admired.

Posted by Hg on Friday 12 July 2002 at 20:14.
Received 1 comments so far.

"High on a mountaintop, in say, the Himalayas, naked fakirs are cross-legged in the snow, eyes rolled back, oblivious to the cold. Meanwhile, 130 feet below the sea off the island of Catalina, a diver has sunk into another kind of rapture. An excess of nitrogen in his blood steeps him in the realm of the gorgeous. The sea is awash with siren's song. It will be the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced."

At the excellent Killing The Buddha, Bia Lowe's powerful and possibly controversial prose (accompanied by a very work-unfriendly graphic) has grabbed my attention in a fairly major kind of way.

Posted by Hg on Thursday 11 July 2002 at 23:35.
Received 1 comments so far.

1am. A dripping tap. A ticking clock. The whir of a hard disk. I love it when it's this quiet. I wish I had time to linger, to read, to think, but the treadmill is only on pause for the next five hours and then it all begins again.

Speaking to colleagues this evening, one spoke admiringly of an ex-associate who had left a secure long-term position to follow his dream of running fishing expeditions. "I'd like to think that I just haven't done that yet," I said, "rather than that the opportunity has irrevocably passed me by." "Done what?" asked my other colleague. "What's your dream?"

You know, it never even occurred to me to quantify it in any terms other than "not what I'm doing now."

I'm always advising friends to work out what they want out of life and to do everything possible to make it happen, starting tomorrow. I'm not a complete hypocrite, I've made many changes to my life over the past ten years or so to get closer to my aspirational notions of where I'd be in my mid-30s. However, I'm starting to realise that I've never really thought about what lies beyond that long-standing collection of medium-term objectives.

I've turned an enjoyable job into a stimulating career and in doing so I've developed skills in areas that I would never have envisaged ten years ago. However, I'm still not sure whether I've found my vocation. If I won the lottery tomorrow and work became more about fulfillment than financial support, what would I do? What's my dream?

Posted by Hg on Thursday 11 July 2002 at 00:12.
Received 5 comments so far.

"In my place, in my place, were lines that I couldn't change..."

Not at all sure what to make of the new Coldplay single. I always found their brand of 'ickle boy, life vewwy hard' Travis-lite rock completely annoying until I heard Gavin Friday's version of Yellow (see comments for download options), which convinced me that they might actually be good song-writers. Then lead singer Chris Martin's appearance on the new Faultline album made me listen to his voice in a different way. When their new album was announced, A Rush Of Blood To The Head, I decided that I liked the title. Putting all this together, I concluded that I've misjudged them.

Now I'm not sure. In one sense the new single appeals, but in another it doesn't. I like the 'sound' of it, but I'm not sure that the world needs another song about being lost and scared. The dominant theme seems very similar to Yellow's "I drew a line for you", but without that song's sense of wonder and devotion.

Also, does anyone else think, every time they hear its opening lines (quoted above), that it really should be "lines that I couldn't erase"? Neatness and tidiness: so important in the art of lyric writing, I feel.

Posted by Hg on Tuesday 09 July 2002 at 18:32.
Received 6 comments so far.

"The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench. A long plastic hallway where pimps and thieves run free and good men die like dogs. There is also a negative side."

Hunter S Thompson, also from Saturday's Guardian.

Posted by Hg on Monday 08 July 2002 at 23:01.
Received 0 comments so far.

"Londoners don't want leadership in the way New Yorkers or Parisians do. They have little sense of belonging to a cohesive urban community. They often feel less attachment to the city as a whole than to their own little corner of it. They certainly don't feel 'top of the heap' or 'king of the hill' just because they are all huddled round the banks of the Thames," writes Alexander Chancellor in The Guardian on Saturday

I'm often in complete agreement with him, but I have to question the above. Maybe he didn't mean it so generally, because he uses it as a preamble to a discussion of the current squabble between Ken Livingstone and the Evening Standard, but I disagree anyway.

I'm making the assumption that Chancellor is a Londoner himself. As an immigrant, I find that native Londoners make such a big fuss about north versus south, east versus west. It's not that I'm blind to the differences, I just don't think that they matter. If you think that south or west London are uncosmopolitan compared to north or east (or whatever your particular geographic preference), you should try growing up where I did.

I do accept that "cohesive" is not the most accurate word for London's urban community, given the diversity on which it's based. However, surely it's the shared acceptance and celebration of our differences that binds us? We don't feel the need for leadership because we're weak, but because collectively we're stronger and we want to be inspired into new ways of living and working together.

Call me shallow (the truth will out), but I do feel special because I live near the Thames. I like the fact that the cityscape behind the national newsreaders is the place that I choose to make my home, it makes me feel - that word again - connected. I'm not knocking anywhere else, I'm just emphasising the fact that I have a sense of belonging in London. Its attraction is greater than the sum of its parts and to discount this area or that is to miss the point.

Posted by Hg on Monday 08 July 2002 at 22:51.
Received 1 comments so far.

I'm entirely aware that blogging about blogging is generally far less interesting for readers than it is for the writer, but I'd like to expand on what Vaughan has written about the concept of online naming.

However we describe ourselves or each other in relation to our websites, there are many ambiguities. If we say we're "Stuart from/of Hydragenic", we're giving our sites a pseudo-corporate air, just as though we'd said "Stuart from The Guardian" (wishful thinking), which is seemingly at odds with the notion of blogs as personal publishing.

If we use "Stuart Hydragenic", we obliterate our family history and turn the creator-created relationship on its head. We gave birth to our sites, but have we really allowed them to nurture us as well?

"Stuart, who writes Hydragenic" is more accurate, but a bit of a mouthful. "Stuart, who is Hydragenic" is probably closer to the spirit of the whole thing in my case, but this doesn't work for certain other sites. "Gordon, who is Something" is factually true but more than a little vague and "Chris, who is DoYouFeelLoved" is just wrong.

Then, finally, there's "Hydragenic Stuart". Again, it works for me, for "Prolific Caroline" and (presumably) for "Troubled Diva Mike", but frankly "Umbrella Stand Molly" is not a woman I'd want to meet in a dark alleyway and "Sashinka Sashinka" sounds too much like a Russian drinking song.

What I suppose I'm aiming unsteadily towards here is the concept that blog names and website names in general seem to contain a fascinating range of objectives. What is "Hydragenic", for example? It's a domain name, a weblog name and a state of mind. It's not a nickname (if I need an online persona, I prefer the mercurial Hg) and it's certainly not a real name.

It's everything and nothing, a word that doesn't really exist but which nevertheless describes a guiding principle on which I try to base every single decision that I make. It's a silly indulgent weblog at times, nothing less than a window on the very essence of my being at others. In marketing terms it's an "identity", a word that seems more than appropriate.

Posted by Hg on Sunday 07 July 2002 at 17:56.
Received 9 comments so far.

Belated thanks to Sakaama for pointing out that my recent Mandela quote is mis-attributed and that it actually comes from Marianne Williamson. I felt that this was too interesting to be left to languish in a comment box. Here's the next part of the quote, in which I've deliberately edited out the Christian references - with no apologies - to make it more universally appealing. If you want to check out the original version, it's here.

"We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? [...] Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. ...as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Posted by Hg on Sunday 07 July 2002 at 17:29.
Received 0 comments so far.

Yesterday afternoon I found myself on the verge of another internet rite of passage: my first blogmeet. I had little idea of what to expect, knowing only that the day was also acting as a farewell party for Luke. I'm generally comfortable meeting new people, even in large groups, so I was a little startled to find that the butterflies present in my stomach since the early morning were turning into full-on panic-attack palpitations as I approached the pub.

Thankfully I saw a couple of familiar faces the moment I entered the function room, was welcomed into the fold and was given a rapid-fire overview of everyone present. The room was very full, there must have been fifty or sixty people at a guess. I recognised names and faces and began to realise just how few of the well-known UK blogs I read.

I had been with friends in a pub up the road for a few hours beforehand, so by the time I arrived I was already more than a little drunk. The combination of nerves, alcohol and adrenaline (again) loosened my tongue and I started embarking on conversation topics that seemed completely reasonable at the time but which, in the cold light of the day after, are actually making me physically blush. My recurring motif of the night seemed to be one of agonising over never having read the blog of the person who I was talking to.

If I managed to hold a stimulating, witty, interesting conversation with you, I'm pleased - that was the real me. If it was more of an outrageous, rambling stream-of-consciousness that included many inappropriate comments, metaphors and allusions... well, that was the real me too, I guess - trying too hard to make a connection, forgetting that sometimes less is more.

Whatever. If you're here now because we met last night, or because you clicked on a link from someone who I met last night, welcome. The timing is unfortunate because I'm probably not going to be able to update much during the forthcoming week, so try the 'Highlights' links in the top right-hand corner; if you like what you see, there's plenty more in the archives.

Posted by Hg on Sunday 07 July 2002 at 13:35.
Received 7 comments so far.

Charisma Carpenter is the actress who plays Cordelia in Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel. Realised this morning that her name is also a pretty good summary of Christianity's Unique Selling Point.

Started thinking about other actors or actresses - genuine or fictional - who could represent major world religions. So far I've only come up with the fictional Serenity Corpulent, for Buddhism. Any more, anyone? I've discounted Jason Orange as a possible embodiment of Hare Krishna, before anyone suggests him.

Posted by Hg on Friday 05 July 2002 at 15:02.
Received 5 comments so far.

By the way, my home DSL connection is now almost totally down. If I'm really persistent, I can get it to work for about 30 seconds every hour - just long enough to send a small selection of queued "help, I'm stranded in a pre-web world!" e-mail messages. In addition, the phone itself is now out of order (but from the caller perspective it still seems to ring), which means I can't even fall back to dial-up. If any of you Real Life people are trying to get in touch with me or The Missus, use the mobile numbers instead.

I never cease to be amazed by the incompetence of a certain British telecommunications company. Not only has it done absolutely nothing about this fault since it was reported on Monday, not only will it refuse to do any kind of investigation until I commit to a home appointment (even though it may not actually need to enter the house), but its call centre operatives tell me that DSL is "different" and "tricky" and they need to allocate engineers from a specific (and currently over-worked) team to handle it.

All this, despite the facts that it regularly promotes this service in the media, that the service runs on the same copper cabling as traditional phone lines and that the British telecommunications company even sells a self-install version to the general public that doesn't require an on-site visit.

Posted by Hg on Friday 05 July 2002 at 08:59.
Received 0 comments so far.

If life is going to be like this for the next few weeks, I have to do things differently. Without being too control freakish, I'm going to have to take arms against a sea of troubles and, by opposing, end them.

Accordingly, I'm reviewing my armoury at the moment and wondering which of my weapons to deploy this morning in a pre-emptive strike. SMART, SOSTT, SWOT, WWWHWW or 7S? Such shiny toys.

Posted by Hg on Friday 05 July 2002 at 08:40.
Received 0 comments so far.

Driving home on the motorway last night, during a spilt-second moment of insanity I actually wanted to crash my car very hard into the one in front just to see how loud the noise would be. (Naturally all of the drivers involved in the resulting pile-up, plus myself, would have emerged completely unscathed - carnage couldn't have been further from my mind.)

Adrenaline is a very dangerous drug, especially when acting on a hyperactive, curious mind. Time to slow down.

Posted by Hg on Friday 05 July 2002 at 08:22.
Received 0 comments so far.

Did I really say "the next fortnight or so"? How cute. I really believed it too.

Posted by Hg on Thursday 04 July 2002 at 17:23.
Received 9 comments so far.

Abnormally busy at work. Home DSL connection too flaky to be usable. YACCS comments system down at time of writing. Everything broken. Abbreviated sentences. Back Friday?

Update: YACCS is back, DSL improving, so here I am again, briefly. I can't talk about work in any detail, so let's just say that my organisation has a habit of going through a regular pattern of radical change every couple of years and this week it's all starting again. This is inevitably going to have a significant call on my time for the next couple of weeks and I'm under no illusion that I'll be having any kind of a life for the next fortnight or so.

It's all good stuff though. I have a low boredom threshold and I thrive on change. In a few months' time, when I look back on early July I have a feeling I'll be viewing it as one of those periods that sets the tone for the next year. My horoscope says that I'm in a position of considerable influence right now. Horoscopes are bullshit, of course, but I'm pushing that to the back of my mind at the moment. This is one prophecy that I intend to fulfil.

Posted by Hg on Tuesday 02 July 2002 at 21:24.
Received 3 comments so far.

I've removed timestamps, seeing as Blogger Pro seems to have trouble remembering whether I am: a) in London; b) hovering several hundred miles off the west coast of Ireland, or; c) based in a small village somewhere in the Andes, with only a skinny white goat and a brightly coloured rug for company.

Note to Pyra, developers of Blogger: please start charging people a reasonable rate (maybe $5/month) and use the money to hire staff; freeze development till the bugs are ironed out; implement a proper scheduled maintenance programme (publicised more than a few hours in advance); pay more attention to customer communication when there are problems. In short: time to come out of beta - fund yourselves properly, do less, but do it better.

Posted by Hg on Monday 01 July 2002 at 22:19.
Received 8 comments so far.

"...when I was a kid and heard my parents discussing various local women who were well endowed, I thought it meant they came from a very wealthy family. You live and learn."

Sashinka explores women's underwear. I hope she'll forgive a second quote (it's a long-ish article) from the Gossard spokesperson who advises that "Lots of women don't want huge breasts throughout the day but do want them in the evening." Plenty of men too, probably.

Posted by Hg on Monday 01 July 2002 at 17:01.
Received 0 comments so far.

Warchalking is a fascinating lo-tech/hi-tech phenomenon. I like the link with hobo signs (known as gypsy signs in Europe) - last time I heard of them was in an Enid Blyton book when I was young, as far as I remember.

Posted by Hg on Monday 01 July 2002 at 16:53.
Received 2 comments so far.

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