The only thing I’ve figured out for sure is that there’s too much to do; but I don’t want this night to end – me, my cousin on the phone, some casual editing, some movies, rain outside. It was pouring earlier, heavy fauceting from the gutters, and the radio was actually interrupted by an Emergency Broadcast Notification beep beep which said that there might be flooding and certainly storms and we should all stay inside beep beep (though it’s all sadly over now). I have never actually heard the Emergency Broadcast Network in action before. It was rather exciting. I feel like the Emergency Broadcast Network should only be written with capital letters but I do not know that for sure.
Someone said to write about the world, but all I can see is what I see; the world is through me, and in me, and in you as well. How can we write about anything but our own subjective self, cut a half-dozen different ways? But people are wonderful, that’s the joy of it, that you’re reading someone’s translation of reality is the beauty of all that’s written. (Do you speak my language?). As the million-mark approaches on Wikipedia I have this urge to contribute, to start articles left and right, which is not something that I am normally prone to (I’m fairly sure I’m not alone; many older contributors are excited, it feels like the culmination of something big, though it’s numerically fairly meaningless). But of course, with a million articles, many things are written about already and I am cudgeling my brain to come up with things that I know about, my own unique corners of knowledge. I have some but perhaps I have forgotten them all; I have many but perhaps none to put down on paper. Commonality is essential in this venture but not too much; it’s findng the right mixture that’s the balance.
What are the things that only you know?