I've hit some kind of wall when it comes to managing this website. As it gains more eyes on it than I ever expected it could, I become less eager to publish anything. I'm often worried, disconnected, unsure of what's appropriate and what I'm genuinely interested in talking about. I doubt that I'm truly "qualified" to write about anything, or that I will be able to take something, however benign, back in the future. I find myself avoiding projects while I fret over how I want the imagined result to be unrealistically flawless, relevant, or clever. This is why my "Library" page still leads to a 404 after August 2025's overhaul.

At heart, I've always been a paranoia-addled, secretive person. This tendency comes into its own when I feel exposed to the public, a position I had avoided being in before I began a website this time four years ago. I feel (somewhat irrationally) less anonymous than I used to. Which discourages me from sharing details, anecdotes, or thoughts related to my own life. For anything else, I'm haunted by this strong sense of fearful urgency to avoid becoming embarrassing, incorrect, widely-disliked, or somebody's personal "lolcow".

I guess most of this is not about the website and more due to the insecure, anhedonic mood I've been in these last couple months for separate reasons. I would like to eventually get past this, at least, considering if I strip away everything I host here until nothing I cared about exists anymore, there's no reason for the website itself to exist, either. I'm too attached to this place to let it get flattened like this.

Oh, and that said, I've played around with the CSS of this page to make it more comfortable to view longer entries. No need to scroll a small box anymore. Condensing these entries to only a sentence or two was limiting what I could write here in the first place.

I can't say I would be much different if I lived a life hundreds of years before the advent of therianthropy forums. I could instead be the village eccentric identifiable by a helmet shaped like a bull's head, surviving in folklore as something like Bucephalus the Man-Ox. Historians would debate whether I was real or not. Maybe I'd have a Tor's Cabinet of Curiosities episode.

The main reason I've gotten out of bed and faced anything at all lately is the idea that my wife wouldn't want such a miserable day for me. I would like to find more beauty and hope in the world, even if it's more for her than for myself.

I have an instinct to make sure I go it completely alone whenever things feel truly hopeless, but it's rare that I shut off from Rose (I mean, the urge is there, but it feels absurd to try and avoid your imaginary friend...) so I always have her. It may all seem kind of silly, but she's been helping a hell of a lot to keep me out of trouble.

My ultimate aim is to save every piece of medical imaging I have taken of me and then arrange them in order like Exodia the Forbidden One.

Finished up some housekeeping on here. I don't know how something digital can feel unkempt but it was beginning to bother me.

I've sorted out the small tasks: reorganised folders, dithered images, implemented a new font, styled a properly-branching sitemap, tweaked light mode's palette, and reinstated a changelog. My retired webpages have been moved into a folder off-site.

It alarms me how much traction a website can gain on Neocities from aesthetic or technical skill alone, regardless of if the material within is extreme, cruel, or otherwise objectionable just because a visitor saw some cute pixel fonts and decided not to read anything past the index. I don't doubt there's a willing audience out there for these topics, but most seem genuinely blindsided when it comes to light. If something unconcealed can come to light, anyway.

This week I installed CFW on my Switch and, among other things, set up desktop streaming for it. I can play most of my Steam library pretty comfortably in handheld mode. Super pleased.