Well, it looks like I still haven’t managed to implement the thing that stops me posting to my weblog when I’m pissed. Hey ho though, it’s not the first time.

A few days back, one of my mates asked me what was the advantage of using div tags and stuff over tables, since nested divs in order to get a particular layout was surely just as bad as nested table layout shenanigans. It got me thinking, and I spent Sunday coming up with an alternative stylesheet for my weblog, to show exactly what you can do with a little positioning and z-index stuff. I kinda liked it, and after I’ve checked it out with Internet Explorer (for the mighty IE has it’s own interpretation of the positioning rules, so it might look a bit wonky for the 45% of people that use it to read my ramblings) then I might incoporate some of the ideas into the live site.

The other thing that came about was my re-examing of the code I’ve used to make this weblog, and realising that some of it isn’t correct enough for my liking (the semantics of markup and stuff) – the date, for instance, is in a div by itself, whereas it should really be in a div that spans all the entries for that day. The titles for each posting aren’t in title tags either, which is a big blooper. I’ve been looking at reorganising the order in which things are printed, so it makes more sense without a stylesheet; I managed to show myself that I can display things in any order, regardless of what order each bit is in the markup. And finally, I might get round to putting link tags everywhere, so that Mozilla’s Site Navigation toolbar will work properly. Oh, and having urls for each day, month or year of the weblog working properly. And…

Just as well I don’t have any important exams coming up, or else I’d be in danger of fucking them up. As usual. Being in danger that is, not actually doing that badly.

Every day is so wonderful
And suddenly, it’s hard to breathe

The first mile was the hardest. Except, that is, for the second mile, the third, and what comes after.

You see, my lungs are fucked. I ended up in hospital a few years ago, and they were thus diagnosed. I can’t run for more than twenty metres or so without being reduced to agony.

I ran home tonight.

You are beautiful in every single way
Yes, words won’t bring me down
Don’t you bring me down today…

I stumbled, I staggered, and I collapsed in my room when I got home. But I still can’t take it. Chin up, they say. But I can’t mask the pain. I can’t overcome it. I can’t cope anymore.

Help.

And still there is this emptyness. Lonely, and alone. I had learned to cope, but really I haven’t.

To all your friends, you’re delirious
So consumed in all your doom
Trying hard to fill the emptiness
The piece is gone and the puzzle undone
That’s the way it is