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Occasionally, there are weeks in which nothing happens.
I often used to complain of those very weeks as a kid. Or, more specifically, I'd complain (quite loudly, likely) of the lack of anything to make happen. This was sometimes a good thing.
Nothing happening or being able to be made to happen meant whinging a lot about it or sitting around staring at a wall, at both of which I'm extremely accomplished.
It also presented an interesting metaphysical state, which I should have been (but wasn't, not having grasped yet Artistotle and Pascal's great fear of the void, and certainly not having read Robbie Boyle's work and still yet to have shown the slightest interest in Oxford) intrigued by for it's philosophical implications alone. I missed that opportunity.
Now, nothing happening includes listening to the calm, even breathing of a loved one, the gurgling of my stomach, the stoppage of the loved one's calm, even breathing, the quick slap of fist hitting the offending stomach, and then the calm, even breathing of a loved one, accompanied by my whimpering softly.
Oh. And the beta launch of supertart happens in weeks in which nothing happens.
disclaimer:
Much like any really good product/thing, supertart has launched. It's really incredibly late, and it's really incredibly not quite finished, but it's launched.
Many people's lives have been ruined as they toiled towards the end goal of this thing called supertart, which was terribly embarrassing for them, telling everyone their email address was something@supertart.com, to the inevitable, "Super what?" Some people's lives (like the designer and two thirds of the programmers') were ended in the course of the project, just because they're new media people, and quite impressively disposable.
We'll have an interview with the chief tart right here, next week.
Wow. Lucky us.
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