I've got about 30% of the old journal diabolicly converted to a sensible modern format: the blog. Once I've survived a prolonged immersion in basic HTML I should be able to display my divine visage atop the header to stare down my pompous imperial nose at you filthy peons.

Right.

I'm just cranky. Let me try that again.

I am a mere 30% of the way through this pathetic and hopeless attempt to impart some pride and worthiness to this..... this decomposed corpse I dignify with the description "my writing." Such a vain effort should be sneered at, debased, humiliated. It should be whipped back into the faceless void whence it came, never to besmirch the internet and shame the English language with its very presence. I am unfit to declare my very existence. Woe unto me, punish me for this idiotic presumption that my thoughts have merit. Do not deign to read furthur, I beg.

Wrong.

Too supplicant.

I blame Wednesday.
6:13 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm