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Personal blog posts

Amelia's blog posts

Thomas Benjamin Wild Esq.

I sorta recently discovered a new artist and I have yet to hear a single one of his that is not somehow a random Brit guy distilling my thoughts into song.

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Nikola Gallery Helper

Nikola can make galleries of images, and it does so pretty competently. But it does require metadata, and the creation of new galleries does not seem to be linked into any of the feed generation. So I made a helper.

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2022-04-04 Frederick Meijer Gardens Trip

I was over at Jamie's place and since the Meijer Gardens were having a butterfly exhibit, we went on a date there. Also there was an excellent temporary exhibition, "Planets in My Head" by Yinka Shonibare CBE, which were amazing works and made me feel lots of things.

Also I took a bunch of pictures! 2022-04-04 Frederick Meijer Gardens trip

RSS (Atom) and Fediverse

So I thought, "Hey, you know what would be neat? If I could post my new entries from the blog and from my fictional works on Fediverse! I see a bunch of people doing that, so surely it must be easy!"


About that.

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Writing is Good, Actually

So I just published the first three vignettes in the fictional universe that has been living rent-free in my head for the last five or so years.

My polycule a few weeks ago goaded me into writing some of it down, and, uh, suddenly I find I have an entire account at Campfire Write filling up with characters and locations and maps and timelines and aircraft designs. I am asking friends questions about fictional-use callsigns for ham radio and aircraft tail numbers, researching the state of the art in generative design, and generally just finding the ideas pouring out of me.

This is fun! Hot damn.

The universe aims to be a hard science-fiction near-future that develops naturally (if, uh, aggressively quickly) from current technology. I really want to make sure that nothing in-universe is magic.

I am also having a lot of fun making these characters. The core three are already nearly as familiar to me as are my IRL friends. Hell, one of my characters has already taken the story in a different direction than I had anticipated at the beginning; that vignette is incomplete at the moment, but I will likely get it published in a week or so.

I am unapologetically releasing these vignettes in the order I write them; the in-universe chronology is indicated in a heading in each post. Maybe eventually Jamie will help me build a timeline generator for Nikola so there is a place where they are sorted in universe time.

Oh, and as we were joking on Fediverse: anyone not in my immediate section of the polycule deserves $100 to a charity of their choice if they guess what TLMC means before I end up revealing it in-universe. Hit me up on Fedi or elsewhere with guesses.

"Hands Held High", A Reflection After 15 Years

Fuck. I just. I was winding down, right? New OT, new Marcel Vos.

Then blammo. This absolutely impeccable live performance of Linkin Park's "Hands Held High" the recently-late Chester uncharacteristically doing the backing vocals, a breathtaking performance. Just devastating. Pile of goo and uncontrollable sobbing for like half an hour so far.

Just thinking about how awful it is that 13 fucking years after that performance in London, every goddamn word is still relevant.

It was 2007. We were so tired of war. So tired of Bush. Apprehensive about...what the hell is life gonna be but just more of the same shit for another 50 fucking years? College was going to be more high school, work (if you could even get it) was going to be more college. An endless dark tunnel stretching out into the future.

Minutes to Midnight came out, and was a good, solid album. And then this song. Not even the closing track, just in the middle as real and raw as a fucking IED.

And it was just the epitome of all our feelings about everything. It resonated with the bitterness and anger and fatigue. It was distilled millennial activist.

And it is a fucking sin it is still relevant to this day. Nothing changed.

Still wrecking me 15 years later. Goddamn Mike, you perfect lyricist.

It was a lot. It immediately flashes me back to that warm fall day, my teacher scrambling to turn off the classroom TV around 9am.

To the awful mid-March evening spent curled up and bawling my soul out on the bathtub floor under the shower as the buffoon in power did what we had feared for a year.

To that afternoon I came home to my folks crying at the TV, watching another American dream break up in the high atmosphere.

To the sickening night at the space, desperate to avoid the news I knew was coming but dreaded, watching the last glimmer of hope drain from Rachel Maddow's eyes on screen.

To a month ago, watching yet again as humanity fails itself. Fails to reach even the barest levels of ascendancy.

Fifteen years. I wish I could hope that fifteen years more we will see a difference, that this song by Mike and Chester will no longer ring true.

I truly, truly wish I could hope that much anymore.

Hashtag First Post

So, hey, welcome, settle down, take a seat. This is my blog. It is little, but might eventually not be little.

It was fun putting it together; this blog runs on nikola, which is super easy to use and work with.

However, and this is a fun story for all you out there: turns out, ls and rm -rf are not the same! Who knew?

Thankfully, duplicity has been dutifully backing this machine up to Backblaze for...a long time, vigourously and with feeling, and so after about half an hour and a pint of ice cream (black raspberry and dark chocolate), I had restored my whole-ass webroot and we are back in business!

So yeah. Bye.

RIP Moxie. 2004-04-08 to 2021-02-22

You were a good cat. A grumpy old lady who tolerated us and the kittens. You met me back in 2008 by sitting on me while Cleo was furiously cleaning my laptop. Jasper rescued you and we eventually brought you downstate to live with us.

There was no such thing as too hard a scritch. You wanted it all.

We did our best, and you seemed to appreciate it.

Making the decision not to fight the aggressive cancer that suddenly swept over you this week was one of the worst I have ever had to make. But at the same time, I knew it was the right choice, for you and for us. You passed away quietly and quickly between us, content and purring.

We will miss you, Moxie.


Ice helps a lot though.