Welcome one and all to the brand spanking new [Fill This Out Later]! I’ve migrated from Tumblr to my very own domain, and if you are expecting this blog post to describe all of FTOL’s exciting new features so that you don’t have to expend energy discovering them yourself, TOO BAD, because instead I’m going to complain about how freaking hard it is to build a website when you 1) are worse at technology than a lobotomized tree stump and 2) have the frustration tolerance of a sunburned toddler coming off a coke bender. (The drug or the soda, kids can’t handle caffeine. Or analogy overload.)
I mean, I went into this thinking it was going to be a piece of cake. You start with a template, you pop some cool shit in, you bang out some copy, and then WHAMMO, you got yourself a website. And not just any website, one that people will visit and think, “I need to send this to my friends and mom and boss and wallpaper my house with it and write songs in homage. I will print this on t-shirts and tattoo it on the inside of my eyelids so I never forget the supreme, transcendent majesty that is this website. I will forever tell its story.” Or something like that. You can tailor your praise to your own particular wonderment.
But no, apparently doing things that are wildly outside your skill set is hard, and complicated, and causes you to mutter under your breath like Gollum, cursing Al Gore for inventing the internet and social conventions for barring public shrieking. So I worked on it for a while and then enthusiastically gave up. (A thing about myself, I learned, is that I only like to do things I’m already good at. This is probably why I never got into ring toss.) But then about a week ago, I picked this back up again, and with the aid of coffee, cursing, and furious googling, I got this shit off the ground. I mean, it could certainly look better. I’m not saying it’s impressive or cool or competent or anything. But it’s mine, and I’m not going to work on it anymore, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this rather taxing endeavor, it’s to always try your best to find friends who will do things for you in exchange for liquor. It’s too hard to do things yourself. Old dogs and all that.