Ed Bilodeau

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This weblog had moved: http://www.coolweblog.com/bilodeau/

# Notice (Oct 19/05): So ends my stay here on Blogger. This morning Google implemented an anti-spam 'feature' that forces me to answer a challenge phrase when I want to post to my own blog. No notice of the change, nothing. Worse is that it doesn't even work! I type the phrase, submit, "An error occured", post deleted. Damn you, Google. Chances are I will revive my blog somewhere else, sometime soon. I'll post the new coordinates here as soon as they become available. (BTW, I'm unable to post anything to my RSS stream, so I'd appreciate it if readers could spread the word and ask people to take a look at this notice)

Update (Oct 19/05, ~noon): After a frustrating few hours (and not just trying out alternatives to Blogger), I've decided that this is a good time to take a break from all this. A day? A week? Who knows. But I need to step away from it before I pass a heavy magnet over the whole mess.

Update 2: According to this post, the reason I'm seeing the CAPTCHA (challenge phrase) is that Blogger has classified my blog as spam. Thanks. User for five years and now I'm spam. I searched the Blogger site, but there is no mention of how to get the spam flag turned off. There is also no way of contacting anyone at Blogger. Wow. Spam they say I am, so spam I must be. Maybe it is time to take a break.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

I've been reading through Jon Garfunkel's New Gatekeepers writings, something that has left me doing more reading and thinking, with less writing. Or rather, less linking. Not the same thing.

It's a recurring thing: the dissatisfaction with skimming, shallow links, that feed... something. I keep coming back to them because they are easy. An illusion of progress, of accomplishment, when really, I've just stamped the paper that came in my inbox and dumped it in my outbox. Next.

These short, no-effort posts have a cost. They reinforce a way of thinking, a way of interacting that is, I believe, harmful, or at least ineffective. A waste of time, if you will.

It has something to do with finding my voice, finding something to say. Opening my eyes and turning my brain on. And sharing.

(My thoughts are always skitting around like this. Sometimes I think I need medication. Mom always said there's a crazy gene in the family.)