Burningbird
I have mixed feelings on this news.
On the one hand, I think it’s a good idea to focus on one X/HTML path.
On the other, I’ve been a part of the HTML WG for a little while now, and I don’t feel entirely happy, or comfortable with many of the decisions for X/HTML5, or for the fact that it is, for all intents and purposes, authored by one person. One person who works for Google, a company that can be aggressively competitive.
I did continue with my effort on the HTML WG, but I no longer feel either comfortable or welcome in the email list, so not sure what I’ll be doing with HTML 5 from this point.
Chances are, I’ll just focus on preparing a couple of Formal Objections, which don’t require any email communication, other than posting a link. I hate pulling out, as I am concerned about the lack of diversity among those making the decisions about HTML5. I’m still concerned, because there is little diversity, and even less empathy, but I’m a chorus of one: it’s not fun to fight battles when no one is covering your back.
On to other things…
I have a new book contract with O’Reilly. I’ll have more on the subject and title at a later time. Both I and my editor, Simon St. Laurent, think it will be a kick ass book. It really has a great table of contents.
I’m still working on my own self-publishing book, but more slowly, to free up time for the O’Reilly book. I also have an article to write for a popular web design site, which I hope to get finished in a few weeks. All this on top of the work I’m still doing at this site, and my books site. Freeing up time is a silver lining for decreasing HTML5 involvement–though Formal Objections can take a considerable amount of time to create. Less time, though, then reading emails about how mean I am to the HTML 5 guys.
I am a bad, bad girl.
To US folks, Happy 4th of July. To everyone else, Happy 4th of July. Maybe some new photos over at MissouriGreen for you all later.
Car repair is not a linear progression, with incidents sweetly spaced so as to remind us, gently, that nothing lasts forever.
It is an aggregation of aggravation, where one failure begets another, in clumps timed to crest when your wallet is flattest. Unlike that twinge in our side, or that odd pressure in our chests, we can’t ignore the symptoms of pending failure when it is our cars that get sick. No matter how hollow the piggy bank, we can’t disregard that tick, that bang, that odd noise coming from the wheel, or the window that will not raise.
The window that will not raise…once upon a time, before we got clever, whether a window would raise or lower was a cooperative effort between us and car: the car door window would exist, and we would apply our muscle to crank the window up or down.
Now, we’ve shifted all the burden to the car, and expect it to do our bidding when we flick a button. Handy when we’re driving along and need more air; less so when you click the button and nothing happens. Worse, when nothing happens after the window is already down.
Then we’re ripping plastic bag and holding sticky, grimy duct tape—to cover this hole that seemed so small yesterday, but is a veritable cavern mouth today. One puff of wind and the car is suddenly transformed into a Victorian street harlot, pocked with boils.
Cars. Cars free us. Cars take us places. They keep us dry in storms, cool in summer and warm in winter. They help us to get to seaside and forest, to work and home.
They also attach themselves to our bank accounts, like a leech to a vein.
Cars. We wear them down, and they wear us down, in return.
Car repair is not a linear progression, with incidents sweetly spaced so as to remind us, gently, that nothing lasts forever.
It is an aggregation of aggravation, where one failure begets another, in clumps timed to crest when your wallet is flattest. Unlike that twinge in our side, or that odd pressure in our chests, we can’t ignore the symptoms of pending failure when it is our cars that get sick. No matter how hollow the piggy bank, we can’t disregard that tick, that bang, that odd noise coming from the wheel, or the window that will not raise.
The window that will not raise…once upon a time, before we got clever, whether a window would raise or lower was a cooperative effort between us and car: the car door window would exist, and we would apply our muscle to crank the window up or down.
Now, we’ve shifted all the burden to the car, and expect it to do our bidding when we flick a button. Handy when we’re driving along and need more air; less so when you click the button and nothing happens. Worse, when nothing happens after the window is already down.
Then we’re ripping plastic bag and holding sticky, grimy duct tape—to cover this hole that seemed so small yesterday, but is a veritable cavern mouth today. One puff of wind and the car is suddenly transformed into a Victorian street harlot, pocked with boils.
Cars. Cars free us. Cars take us places. They keep us dry in storms, cool in summer, warm in winter. They help us to get to seaside and forest, work and home.
They also attach themselves to our bank accounts, like a leech to a vein.
Cars. We wear them down, and they wear us down, in return.
Anyone under 18 can be eligible? Can’t they get a job during the summer by the time they are 16? Hunger can be a positive motivator. What is wrong with the idea of getting a job so you can get better meals?
Tip: If you work for McDonald’s, they will feed you for free during your break.
Continue reading Offered with no Commentary at MissouriGreen to find out why Keith Olbermann has named Missouri State Representative Cynthia Davis, Worst Person in the World.