Make your own free website on Tripod.com

11.30.98 

"An Answer In The Void"
 

Um...well...

Okay, so life's been really fucking good, and for the life of me, I can't understand why.

Let's go through everything that's happened recently:

  • Interviews with big-name companies for a job
  • I get hired by White Wolf Game Systems to help write a sourcebook for Mage: The Ascension, my favoritest role-playing game ever.  (And before you roll your eyes about that, White Wolf games are interesting, in-depth, they emphasize character, and you've played D&D before, I know it.)
  • I get struck simultaneously for ideas for a web site, a short film, and a feature-length film
  • I'm still gooey in love.
So yeah...things are all right...I can't explain it.  Actually, I can.  It's very simple: I'm listening to myself.  I'm reading what I write, and I'm acknowledging my voice, which I haven't done in ages.  It seems that whenever I trust in myself, things go right.  Funny how that works, huh?

And then there's this.  This meaning this web site, this web thing.

To be honest, I hadn't been giving this place much thought.  I was just futzing around, and besides, no one was reading it anyway, so who gives a fuck, right?  I mean, I'll never be able to produce anything worthwhile that people will read, so it's a nice diversion for when you just have to get things out right now, so it's okay...

...and then someone goes and links to my page.

And I look at the company he put me in.  Lance.  Alex.  Maggy.  You know - all the people that I admire on the Web.

First reaction was to disbelieve it.  

Second reaction was to hyperventilate.

Third reaction was to discover the link targeted the old Geocities page - specifically, a page I had deleted.  So I quickly remedied that.

Fourth reaction was this.

See, it's easy to believe that no one is listening.  I mean, hell, the Web is huge.  Lord knows how many terrabytes of information are sitting on servers, waiting for someone to come along and hit a link that calls a bit of it up for someone to use.  Oftentimes, it's like you're shouting out into the void.  I think that's subconsciously reflected in the design scheme here - just words hanging in a black background, with a think rainbow strip on the side.  

So you go on, and you pound away at your dinky little web page that's sitting on Tripod, along with a million other web pages, and you rant and rave and put up shit and you sit there and wonder if anyone's bothering to even look at what you're doing, and you don't know, because Tripod doesn't give you referer logs, and it's not like you're writing for yourself - I mean, hell, if it was private, you wouldn't be putting it on the Web for the world to see - so you lose interest and wonder if there's any point, because you don't have the awesome design skills of a Lance Arthur or a Derek Powazek, and you can't even get that stupid fucking JavaScript mouseover to work, and you wonder if it's even worth it to try anything else.

And then something comes along and makes you realize that someone's listening.  Someone thinks that what you have to say is good enough to tell other people about it.  It's such a sense of validation - yes, it is worth it.

I believe that people do want to listen.  People do want to hear the good stories.  And I honestly think people want more from their Web experience than online shopping.  This explains my numerous rants about bad, boring, or repetitive Web sites - if the personal Web sites are ever going to be anything more than a novelty stop in the eyes of Joe-Bob AOL Customer, they have to strive for excellence - not just compared to other Web sites, but with other media, with the great works, with the timeless pieces of art that everyone knows and loves.

But the question that comes up is: am I writing this for that one guy who linked to my page?

No.  I am writing this for myself.

And anyone else who wants to listen.

So I thank you, those of you who take the time to swing my space on the Web, for listening...for paying attention...for hearing what I have to say.


 

-- sjc

upstream

downstream
 
 

Home.