I was going to write about being tired, a recession, flu season, whatever. I know the things I need to do today (country support stuff, 8.2.1 testing, check if the test community needs anything, writing some docs I can't explain in further detail yet, and then there's all the stuff that isn't work) and I know that right now I'm not in any state to do them. I know exactly why I am exhausted, and enumerating something I already know won't help anyone. So I am going to write about beautiful things instead, because writing is a way I lead my mind towards the place I want my thoughts to go.

To start off in that direction: one of the blessings of mailing lists and blogs is that it lets you, when you're too tired to even speak with someone, to just watch and listen in on them being them, and you go "oh! well, they're still there, they're still themselves, that corner of the world's all right." And there's a little bit of comfort knowing that someone you trust is out there, doing what they can.

This grad student fulfilled one of his boyhood dreams. I hope to do the same someday. When I next need another moment where I allow myself to dream, I will make a website for Maker House.

Gary C. Martin sends along this talk by Clay Shirky on "Love, Internet Style" (which isn't about romance, but about passion keeping projects going.) Tthis summary is a good one, if you're a text fan like me.

Our tools turn love into a renewable building material. Best predictor of longevity for anything—do the people who like it take care of it? Linux gets rebuilt every night, by people who don’t want it to wither away.

Earl grey tea brewed in raspberry hot chocolate. Chris Carrick is responsible for my exposure to this wonderful, wonderful thing.

Poetry. It has been a while since I read very much classic literature - I went and inhaled an English translation of Dante's Inferno this weekend, and mmmm. Here's a bit from another one of my old favorites.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Yes, I know this poem is not a happy poem, nor was it intended as a motivational one, but the last two lines there never fail to snap me out of a blood rage or steel me to continue further through whatever I might have to slog through, depending on which one I need to hear.

Another thing I did this weekend: watched a DVD of the Les Misérables anniversary concert. I wonder how it must be to return to a role you played so many years ago - or to play the same role night after night, the same lines, as you change but your character doesn't. Night after night, Javert leaps into the river, Eponine shudders and dies in the arms of Marius, Enjolras leads a hopeless battle, and then the next night, all of them alive again, they sing their stretch of time, and then they die. Night after night. One of the reasons why I'll watch a musical or read a book repeatedly is because it's like riding a rollercoaster - you're tossed about by the story, but you know that it's going to end, and how, and that you'll put the book down and you'll still be there.

Warm blanket, nap, hot tea, and then it's back to face the world again. I had a dream on Friday night where I curled up in a blanket and went to sleep... inside my dream. I usually only dream vividly (and remember it) when I'm extremely tired. And when you're so tired you dream about sleeping...

...well, then, you wake up and you bloody well get back to work, that's what. :)