Another Holiday Executed

Feb 15th Update!
Love is post-holiday sales. We picked this up for Gigi at twelve bucks, from Kroger. It will last about twelve minutes, but it’s worth it.

10:15 AM Feb 14th
Happy Vday, peoples! I tied a helium monkey balloon to a bag of hot chocolate, cinnamon hearts, chocolate chunks and marshies for my guy.

Now I’m thinking biscuits and gravy!

Before We Were Starz

MSN Communities, a place where I made groups nearly ten years ago (an early bird in the art of direct linking), is discontinuing its service. Knowing that those old footprints were going to be erased forever, I looked into migrating the content to Multiply. Unfortunately, no information was given on how to prep your material for a successful transfer, for example, there is no "make sure every page is public and not private or it won’t work" or "and by the way, indented 2nd level pages won’t make the trip". The biggest thing they neglected to mention was probably "and if you delete the group to go back and migrate again, well, you can’t. You’ll just lose that URL and all progress".

So basically. That sucked.

I started to dive inside the bowels of my old sites, to manually save and transfer data. But looking through all the photos, I couldn’t help but notice how young we all were. How much we’ve changed, and how outdated those memories were. Being the virtual packrat that I am, I stored away more memorabilia than I know any of those photos’ subjects have cared to saved of themelves or of me. I have other people’s missing scrapbook pieces, from when I carefully scanned and copied events I wasn’t even around for, and then they filed the photos away in a mail pile or drawer and have since long lost. I show people hugging who no longer speak to each other. A sports car that I treasured, but was sold by the owner for quick cash in dark times.

It was an untouched, abandoned representation of the past. Fine with me, to leave it there in memory of the laughs and lessons learned. But reviving it? Giving it a new home? It would be for my fuzzy memories, alone.

I don’t have that kind of time to waste, on looking back.