My little blog is five years old today. Ahhhh. Please excuse a brief metabloggy interlude.
This site started when a friend of mine began blogging and I thought 'that's a good idea. I'll steal it'. So I did, with a dubious design involving unicorns - really, I have no explanation for this - based around Movable Type 2.something. The name 'wongaBlog' came a few days later, based entirely on a short story I'd written in which the main character had a site called 'wonkaBlog', I think because he liked chocolate.
Since then it's become a big part of my life, and I passed 3000 posts last month. It's also, in no particular order::
- briefly bathed in a pagerank of 5
- been banned in libraries for swearing
- pissed off two girlfriends - I think both eventually stopped reading entirely
- been made fun of by the Guardian
- regularly attacked by Russian spammers, which is quite the problem for my webhost but as close as I'm going to get to being in Spooks
- served as a terribly cowardly way to ask someone out (not linking to this one, but it's in there somewhere)
- become the go-to-blog for Googlers of 'wank-a-thon'.
There's lots more, but those are the ones that popped into my head while typing.
I love blogging. It gives me a chance to write, which is pretty much my favourite thing, and it's also cathartic as hell. It helps me stay in touch with far-flung friends, as well as acting as a reasonably decent diary. And the very best aspect of blogging is a cliché, although none the less true for it: it's the people you meet. I found myself in Bloggers4Labour a few years ago (not quite sure how, but I'm glad I did!), and I've met - both electronically and physically - lots of lovely people as a result. The same with various atheist / skeptical sites. It's great, and makes me happy.
I don't remember starting with a blogging goal, and I've never really developed one. Norm's Friday profilees are always asked for one piece of advice to a novice blogger, and a common reply is 'know what you want to write, and who for'. I've never done that - this blog has always been for whatever I feel like at the time, with no plan or target audience - but I can see the attraction. For me the hardest part of blogging is discovering you've been read by people you respect, but don't know personally. For a while it's nigh on impossible not to second-guess yourself and think 'oh god, what must they think of that' every time you click 'post'. I can happily research and write a long piece on the problems of organised religion, say, then follow it up with a post on why I'm scared of women, or a snapshot of a particularly fascinating twig, or something. I've never come close to stopping, but it's the thought of boring the hell out of interesting people that's given me most pause.
I know this is silly. One of the best features of blogging is that it's passive - if people don't want to read, they don't have to. It's why the occasional hate-spewing trolls are so funny. But related, and trickier, is that many, if not most, people I know are by now aware of this site, and often mention it to me. Which is great, but does sometimes complicate things. I've a few posts permanently assigned to Drafts (over 100 at last count) because I never quite had the nerve to post, knowing they'd resonate with particular people. Sometimes it's polite to spare people's feelings when there's no reason to post - I was at a really dull party this evening - but more often it's over ideological disagreements. And it's silly to worry about discussing those.
So my aim for the future is to worry less about what people will think. I shall write whatever I fancy, and if people stick around, great, if not, that's fine too. And as long as I'm not rude and feel I can reasonably back up the more contentious stuff, that'll do too - if I'm wrong, as I often am, people can tell me why.
Ok, enough wankery. I figure a five-year anniversary is an ok excuse, but I promise not to do this again for a long while. Incidentally, I was going to title this post after the appropriate anniversary material, so I hit Wikipedia for the list and discovered that four years is a 'silk' anniversary - how nice is that - while five years is 'wood'. Wood. That's crap. Plus I have no intention of ever typing 'anniversary of wood'.
Finally, just to say thank you to anyone who comments, links to me from their own site, or just drops by and reads anything I write. It's really very nice of you.

Our major digital photography project this term is, roughly speaking, to create images that require a second look. The above is an idea I was playing around with this evening. Something for the workbook, anyway.
Let me see what I have planned for today...

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!
A couple of weeks ago I decided to shaving, just to see what happened. I have grown a beard before, but I kept it vaguely neat and didn't go for the moustache. This time I just left it to its own devices.
It grew for about 10 days, then stopped. The moustache and beard never joined up. I'm not a very manly man, am I.
I didn't think it looked too bad until yesterday. Then I had a haircut, and suddenly turned into a B-movie villain. It's bad. It's going this evening, but I thought I'd record it for posterity, since it's unlikely to happen again. Click below if you really want to see.
This is a fairly long, introspective post, and I don't mind if you skip it
I'm hoping I won't panic in the middle of the night (although apparently it is the middle of the night) and delete it, too...
I've been thinking a fair bit about different kinds of thoughts recently, and I've come to the conclusion that there's a language problem when trying to discuss them. There needs to be a way of differentiating between 'thoughts that just come into your head' and 'thoughts that arise after consideration'. Take the following example: when I see somebody who looks middle-eastern, with a beard, the word 'terrorist' will pop into my head. This isn't something I want to associate with what I'm seeing, and it is not something that I 'think' in any conscious way, but it's what arrives in my mind and there's nothing I can do about it. I obviously do not consider all bearded people who look middle-eastern to be terrorists, and at the same time there'll be 'thoughts' indicating this, but nevertheless the concept of a terrorist is an immediate reaction.
However, if I say 'I saw that guy and thought he was a terrorist' then I sound like a horrible person, so I think there needs to be another word. Maybe there is, and I just don't know it, or perhaps foreign languages have something appropriate. It's not correct usage, but I'm going to use the german word gedanke (plural gedanken) to refer to these 'thoughts that just come into your head'.
Having read a couple of popular explanations of evolutionary psychology, I think it's the case that gedanken are simply the result of associations in the storage structure in the brain. This structure allows the word 'red' to cause gedanken of 'communism', 'apples' and 'Adair', despite these three concepts having no other link. The subconscious is continually processing the environment, and will feed information to the conscious mind, and that's all there is to it.
Why do I bring this up? Because I don't think I ever really figured this out before, and I have a suspicion everybody else did in their mid-teens. I've always been a worrier, but there've been phases during the last five years where it's been extreme. I've latched onto something and the worry has consumed me to the extent that I've become physically ill. After a particularly bad phase, a couple of years ago now, I managed to wrench myself out of it by sheer force of will. I never really figured out why I was worrying, though, I just figured out a way to prevent myself dwelling. Looking back now, however, I can see that the worries were mostly linked to supposed guilt. My lack of self-confidence had morphed into a sense of 'I'm a bad person' over the years and eventually I started with the aforementioned obsessive worrying. Sometimes I would find some insignificant little event (from any point in my life) during which I offended somebody, or lied, or made a mistake, and I'd feel guilty. It was more evidence for the 'I'm a terrible person' box. More often, though, I think that the worry and guilt came from gedanken.
A mild example would be something like this: my neighbour downstairs always leaves cash outside her door for the milkman, and if I arrive home fairly late there are sometimes £10 notes sitting there. When I see them, there's a gedanke that says 'I could steal that'. It's not that I want to, nor that I have any intention of doing so, it's simply that the gedanke is there. That's fairly innocuous, but it's the kind of thing I'd pick up on.
A particularly bad time was when I used to worry myself sick if I ever saw a man and there was a gedanke saying 'that guy's attractive'. Did that mean I was repressing gay tendencies? I could spin intricate webs of how I must be repressing the notion without realising it. It wasn't the possibility of being gay so much as that I'd clearly been lying to myself and everybody around me for years. When this kind of worry is floating around your brain and you find yourself, say, wanting to give another guy a hug for whatever reason, this is more proof! Every little thing becomes an indication of made-up 'suppressed feelings'. These kind of thoughts can result in horrible late-night guilt trips, and it all stems from gedanken.
These may all sound stupid written down, but at the time it was utterly horrendous. When you think you're a terrible person it's not something you want to talk to people about, as then they'll know and hate you...I didn't really understand that gedanken were not and could not be meaningful on their own. If the gedanke of stealing money isn't actually coupled with any desire to do so, then what's the problem? It's simply an observation. A gedanke saying 'that guy is attractive' means nothing unless there's actually some romantic or sexual desire to go with it, which there wasn't (this latter reasoning may have occurred at the time, but my explanation was an apparently superhuman ability to repress such feelings). The reasoning may well come from experience of what women find attractive, or maybe it's entirely possible to judge somebody's physical appearance regardless of sexuality - who knows. Whatever the case, I think it was a major problem for me that I never really understood that gedanken were simply reflexes of association, and not meaningful without some emotional or logical accompaniment.
As a matter of interest, this train of thought was sparked off by an incident yesterday. I attended a ball on Saturday evening, during which there was a demonstration of Latin dancing. At one point the female dancer moved to within half a metre of me, and swayed, shimmied and looked sultry for maybe ten seconds, while wearing a dress that barely covered her very grown-up figure. So what? Well, although you'd never have guessed it, she was 14. It was uncomfortable enough for me, but she was staring at the guy on my left and I heard him remark afterwards that he felt like he should be in prison. In that situation the gedanken are obviously going to be sexual in nature. It's just unreasonable to expect otherwise, in my view. Yet the whole time the conscious mind is saying 'she's 14, this is wrong'. As it happens, the sexual nature didn't particularly affect me. I wasn't turned on - although I have to say I wouldn't automatically condemn anybody who was - I just felt incredibly uncomfortable, and wanted her to move away. It would be extremely easy, however, to panic over the sexual connotations. Without distinguishing between gedanken and normal thoughts, it would be easy to think you'd had sexual thoughts over a 14 year old, which isn't what happened. The brain simply saw something it associated with sex, and said so.
The above isn't as clear-cut as the previous examples, since I think the situation is at least somewhat morally ambiguous, but I'm very glad I no longer have those kind of worries, as that would have been bloody awful.
Geez, I hope the above makes sense, and that you don't all think I'm a total nutjob. It helps to write this all out so I can get it straight in my head, and I think people should talk about this kind of thing anyway. I considered not posting, but if there's anybody else out there who's had similar problems then there's the possibility this may help them slightly. Of course this could all be nonsensical pop-psychology, but it seems to make sense right now.
A genuine conversation I had yesterday:
[while discussing the aforementioned Virgin Digital 75 Bands image]
She: What are these matches?
Me: Where?
She: On the pavement
Me: They're in a shape, aren't they?
She: No, next to them
Me: Are you sure? Aren't they pins?
She: No, I'm talking about the matches
Me: What matches?
She: Your face and my arse!
[cue hysterics from the other sofa as Mum and Dad fall about laughing.]
I'm told it was simply too good an opportunity to pass up
A friend I hadn't seen for months turned to me on Saturday night, and said:
She: Did I tell you who I think you look like?
Me: No...
I can't quite bring myself to put this on the front page...
I feel terribly vain doing this, but I can't resist posting that I was mentioned on the Guardian Culturevulture blog on Tuesday, as part of a post about NaNoWriMo. Only discovered it just now, when browsing through referrer logs. Not that I'm up at 0115 on a Friday night looking at website statistics. Oh no.
Introspection alert. Feel free to skip.
I'm not feeling so hot at the moment. I was half way around today's walk when I abruptly ran out of energy, and it was a struggle to get home. I'm a little shaky and am shivering sometimes, too. The thing is that I don't feel ill at all. It's been one of the worst days emotionally for a long time, and though I've been trying to snap out of it things have just got worse. I can't put it down to anything in particular, but I've been on the verge of tears more than once, and have been feeling really down generally.
I'm just weird. I used to do magic shows in front of my entire junior school and secondary school year group, and later there were children's parties. I'll happily talk in front of large crowds, witter on about my feelings on a website available to anybody with an internet connection, or make a fool of myself before complete strangers, but ask me to sit and chat with a group of people I don't know and I'll be scared for days beforehand. I think I'm getting better, but this last weekend really pushed me as far as I could go. I enjoyed some points very much, but others were a struggle. I far preferred to be on the dance floor than sitting at the side, and when I got back to my room had to actively calm myself down on a few occasions. I went through stages of being happy, then depressed and convinced everybody must hate me, then inexplicably lonely. The life coaching has helped a lot - before I definitely wouldn't have lasted for an entire evening without finding an excuse to leave - and Lynsey being there helped very much too, but bloody hell.
So I don't know whether the weekend is just taking its toll or if I'm sickening for something, but I hope it gets better soon.