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ready for some peace and quiet

THIS is what one guy was selling in ice cream last year a few towns over.

Sparky's cicada ice cream run ends before it began - Columbia Missourian

They're pretty big.

So Scott took that one to the chicken pen, and of course they got all excited, but the first hen that grabbed and ran with it got the shock of her life when it suddenly started vibrating real hard, and she dropped it. The rest of them finally killed it.
- 5:08 pm
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sex is wrong, or coming out of the pandimensional closet

Ran into this article today while I was amusing myself looking up what a brony is. I was intrigued. Telling deep, dark secrets to help fight the war against hate? Heck, I'm game.

I can't imagine what it's like to be a homosexual teenager, or adult. I didn't know at 3 or 4 years old that I was attracted to anyone (much less of the same gender) like some homosexual people do. I didn't know at ten years old what the word sex even meant, although I grew up on a farm and saw constant copulation all around me. I didn't know at 14 what an abortion was, although a few other girls my age seemed to know it pretty well. I didn't know what the heck a pedophile was until I married my first husband. And so on.

I know now that I am a straight pangender asexual. I got that all figured out a few years ago during a big Eddie Izzard fling. I'm strongly attracted to sexually ambiguous people, sometimes men in makeup and female clothing, strong women in fatigues with weapons, androgeny. I'm very strongly attracted to youtubes about Spirk and Merthur because they're amusing or emotionally intriguing, big Xena fan. What I'm not at all attracted to, oddly, is real relationships with real people.

And I know why.

I was born with Asperger's. I didn't acquire it after a vaccination gone wrong. I didn't develop it because my mom did anything wrong. Like Gaga says, I was born this way, and I've never seen it as a personal problem. Along the way, though, I've had to deal with some weird stuff. Like sex.

I don't like being touched or hugged. Touching brings such an overload of sensation that I either seize up into defensive mode or shut down into a headache. Any kind of touching. There are certain kinds of touching I can tolerate and even enjoy, like little kids playing with my hair while I babysit (imagine that), someone squeezing my tired feet (as long as I have socks on), a warm snuggle in big coats on a very cold day outside. But sex? I can barely begin to describe the nightmare. As much as I sometimes crave human contact, I cringe at the million ways all things sexual can go utterly wrong, from the very first eye secks. I have a hard time with looking in people's eyes anyway. But strangely enough, I do like sex. I've been accused of not liking it, but that's not true at all. I have 45 miles of nerves running through my body that make it super difficult to pop into bed with someone (that's why God made alcohol, you say), that's all. Just means I don't share much. I think T'Pol (she's a Vulcan) alluded to this kind of thing, as well.

Likewise, I very rarely drool over anyone. I don't long or pine. I don't wander around aimlessly wondering what is wrong with me because someone doesn't like me. I can't flirt to save my life, usually have no clue when someone is trying to flirt with me. The best I can do is mimic what I see, and I suck so badly at it that everything about sex around me tends to come out rather cartoony. But funny is good. Me and Scott laugh our heads off.

I mostly see sex as an art form. Most of who we are is self created. We 'sell' ourselves all the time. We pass with one group for approval and then play the game and pass with another group for different approval. We ricochet like pinballs through life finding niches we fit into and groups who accept us and people who might even just love us. I feel really bad thinking of people who are so sad inside because they don't find where they fit, and their lives hurt, because I have hurt like that most of my life. It's a hard thing not to feel loved. And you don't have to be on the wrong side of sex for that one, that comes with just about everything that humans make up to take sides over. I grew up with excruciatingly judgmental parents. Everything I did in my life was wrong. Nothing I've ever done has been good enough. And so on. I didn't like it, I don't like myself when I'm like that, so I have spent years changing who I am and how I behave. Funny how a person with Asperger's can learn to do that.

I'm not into whining about what I don't like about other people. Goodness knows I was sick to death of people harping on me over the stupidest stuff. There's one way in life not to be a drag, and that's not to be a drag. Unfortunately, controversy sells. People like to fight. And sex is a biggie. Hey, I'll up your ante. If you say we all have to fit a mold, come with me back to my Mennonite roots. What the heck, lets all wear the same clothes, do the same work, eat the same food, and do the same kind of judging *together*.

I like people. I don't care if they're messed up and wrong. I like them anyway. They're cute and fun to watch, tragic and mystifying, and most of them want to be loved. Sometimes I feel like being born a human myself was a weird mistake, because I have felt since I was a very small child that I don't fit into humanity. I shook my tiny little fist at God and demanded to know why I wasn't born a horse, or a dog. Fortunately, I have kind of adapted and didn't morph into the super villain I had so much potential for becoming, but for awhile there it was pretty touch and go.

I think nearly everyone on this planet is tragically lonely inside at one time or another. I think the depths of being a human agonizing over the absurdity of being is one of the coolest things we have going for us. And I think that relying on any form of governance to define the rights and wrongs of personal preference in the face of the wondrous variety in our cosmos is a cold hard tribute to every kind of hell we humans concoct into our literatures through the millenia. Or, let's get really real about this. I'll take happy gay adults any day over pretender straights doing little kids and paying sex traffickers. How's that?

I like sex. I also like reading everything I can about physics, playing wabble, and raising chickens. Life is too short to sit around being negative on each other. There is too much to do, too much to miss that we don't do because we're wasting our time sitting around being negative on each other. If I've got time to worry about someone else's sex life, then I'm wasting my time not doing something fun or cool.

"Brony 3: I'm gonna love and tolerate the crap out of you."

Just for kicks. Maybe there are other things to think about.

Circumcised and hated it
brain melt

I think I might have Scott's zombie thing figured out. Before his regular doctor pulled him off everything and put him on the prednisone, an ER doctor had him on a really strong antibiotic and he was taking advil. We didn't know anything about vasculitis at that point, and that's when I first heard the zombie escape plan. He hasn't really mentioned it for about a week now, so I'm wondering if it was kind of like how you get fantasy and real life mixed up during fever or something. It's been so awfully hot, and Scott's not the sort to sit around, you can't keep the guy in the house unless he's obsessed with some kind of indoor project, but even then I'll constantly be looking for him outside. Anyway, for now, I'm chalking it up to heat exhaustion triggering the autoimmune inflammation in his arteries and veins. At any rate, he started back to work yesterday, and now he follows instructions to experiment by slowly getting back off the prednisone and seeing if it triggers again.
molten lava cake could also equal love

Scott keeps bugging me. He thinks it's funny that I look so crabby. I told him back off and don't touch me. My uterus wants BROWNIES. The only thing I can think of that equals the word love right now is BROWNIES.

An exercise I've been doing over the 2-3 years that I've blogged privately is some form of bullet pointing, to cut down on extraneous verbage. So here we go with thoughts about this week.

It's not enough that I've been autoimmune since my 20's, now Scott is diagnosed with stuff scarier than mine. The rest of this month will be an experiment in whether he will be able to change his workaholic lifestyle before he croaks himself off.

omg, if we wind up having to sell the house, that means we have to ~clean~ it... You'll understand the horror of that statement only if you understand Scott is a super neat freak and our walk in closet is spotless. I continually stop him from packing everything we own into labeled neatly stacked containers.

The whole plunge into floaty disassociating depression after my gyno pulled me off birth control to see where I'm at with my hormones on top of my regular dr radically dropping my thyroid dose when they found out I went way hyper was a real trip and a half through severe hormone deprivation, so maybe none of this stuff is real. I haven't been sure what's real or not since about April.

So the whole way-past-menopause thing was just another fling from a slingshot and now I seem to be more fertile than ***EVER*** and I'm allergic to everything including condoms and chemicals, and now THERE ARE NO BROWNIES because Scott is on such a big load of prednisone that a half piece of toast spikes his glucose up to 150.

I see my psyche guy tomorrow. I can't wait to tell him about Scott's plans to thwart the zombies. I'm cool with it as long as they can't get into the chicken pens. I just wanna know if vasculitis is a precursing symptom of turning into a zombie, and I'll need written instructions on what to do so I don't mistake him for a cockroach from outer space because my memory lately is just shot.

~breathe~ The anxiety isn't as bad as it used to be, thank goodness, but I still can't watch the water polo events without feeling like I have to hold my breath a lot.
the zombies got sitemeter

And that's even worse when you feel about two months behind in the first place.

To all you poor saps working around the clock at Sitemeter lately, I raise my coffee to you this morning. While little blogs around the net are actually documenting traffic increases every time the word sitemeter goes into their posts because so many frantic surfers are looking for answers, they are still turning to other stat counters in tiny desperation. What happened this time? Massive lightning strike? (http://www.weather.com/) X-class CME pulsing their equipment? (http://spaceweather.com/) Traffic jam during the server move? (pun, ha, I'm so funny at 7 a.m.) I'm just glad I'm not on that end of it. I'll wait it out over here in my little house, because I'm curious. I've been with sitemeter since 2004 and I know all their ins and outs. I've triangulated their tracking system with internal tracking here and a stalker module on another blog when it was bouncing off the walls in 2008. People talk about switching: hey, just add something. If you're getting it for free anyway, just use more than one tracker so you'll have backup. Don't just compare during their worst crisis, compare it year round when your sites are slow.

So here's the deal, since other bloggers are yapping their TMI numbers. My sites were essentially dead, because I had them all closed for two years, some longer. I only recently opened them back up, just in time, apparently, for the epic sitemeter fail. My internal trackers asploded this week, nothing over the top, just busybusy, and it would have been nice to have sitemeter for a tad more accurate info. But I don't have any of that, and after wrestling with it for a couple of days have decided to sit back and ride it out, just watch and see how it gets handled, etc. Every time a host of any kind goes down for 'maintenance', it always takes longer than projected, it's usually handled badly, i.e. making the users feel abandoned without explanations, and then when it's all fixed the host service usually winds up way better than it was before. I went through this with AOL's growing pains years ago and stuck with them when everyone else I know bailed, and I can't tell you how cool the services are now. I've gone through this with xanga multiple times. Look at all the people hanging in there with facebook, even though the grumbling is continual. Webring did a massive overhaul and is trying to get me back. And sitemeter has grown through several glitches just like everyone else. "Gentlemen, we can rebuild him, we have the technology, we have the capability to build the world's first bionic man. Steve Austin will be that man. We can make him better than he was before; better, stronger, faster." I remember when there were no computers for us peons. Now regular bloggers have access to light-speed-up-to-the second information and have all kinds of cows and kittens when servers go down. At least send sitemeter a thank you card for boosting your traffic while you're complaining about them. That's a free service.

Back to my coffee. I've got bigger things on my plate. The prednisone seems to be curing Scott of zombie-itis, and he's feeling well enough to wrangle with some new technology at the break of dawn. We'll have our own server downtime going on if I don't monitor this situation.... *need coffee* (ug, now photobucket is upgrading again...)
- 8:43 am
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I married a zombie

Scott is having one of those interesting weeks where you wind up at the doctor a few times to rule out lots of stuff and everyone is scratching their heads. So he's home on loads of prednisone, twiddling his thumbs, and he starts rattling about all the ways we're going to outwit zombies when the attack finally comes, like building a plank mechanism out one of the upstairs bedroom windows to trick them, as soon as they're on it we can dump them while we watch from the roof, on which we'll have pulled up the extension ladder. Not that zombies have ever been able to figure out how to climb ladders, right, but just in case.

Every time we go in, the doctor runs down the same list, and every time she asks if there is any new confusion it's all I can do not to pop up and say, "Nope, we're ~real~ clear on the plan to wait out the zombie apocalypse on the roof while we bait and kill zombies with a gizmo outside a window."

Today is our 19th anniversary. I'm not entirely sure Scott hasn't already started turning into a zombie. I'll have to think of an alternate escape plan in case he tries to eat my brain or something.
- 10:07 am
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feed me, Seymour

I have to laugh. Some of my sites have exploded (more like bottle rocket, not nuclear) this week and sitemeter has been mostly down for days because they're moving their servers. Go figure.

I've been a blog watcher since before I ever got on xanga, which was 2004. I followed Michael J. Straczynski around on message boards, fought gang wars with Sliders and Xena fans that we though would explode the internet, ran groups and chats, and absolutely flipped out that no one was bringing up how The Lone Gunmen practically showed us how to take out the World Trade Center mere months before it really happened, and then the show just disappeared. I know a guy who hosted a Star Trek marathon wearing Spock ears on our local tv station back in the 80's. We were underground awesome before it was cool to geek out. Before other people ever started blogging, we were like human webcrawlers. Before blogging became a numbers game, we were forming conventions and group emails were flying all over the country.

When the internet got bigger this last decade, I was thrilled. My idea of internet was how cool it will be to have everything ever known to man catalogued and organized for easy access. Instead of laboriously digging through ancient books in old libraries, now we're zipping straight into a Trek-like future where everything ever known is commonly warehoused everywhere you go, and you simply ask a computer for information about *anything*, and ~voila~. For example, how about the movie A Sound of Thunder which came out in 2005. I saw that and was all *omgwheredidIreadthatbook*, because back in the 70's I read the short story. Well, sooner or later Wikipedia is going to have everything, because here it is, Ray Bradbury got it published in 1952. And that's what internet should be, an extension of my brain that helps me keep track of and remember things, as well as interact in a very timely manner all over the planet.

But the sport I love most is blog watching. When I first started blogging I had no idea what was going on, but it didn't take long to figure out, because once everything in media turned into blogging, that became the new interactive gaming for the intellectual. Or psueudointellectual. Or anyone preying on anyone else who can halfway phonetically spell well enough to encourage interchange, because boy have those ads taken over. Blogging is such a huge industry that money magically makes itself every time people flock around media sites. Commenting is the new hamster wheel, generating more and more interaction, and the worth of a blog becomes the sine of the tangent squared of the comments over the pi to the second crap of the traffic which that blog drives to the ads, and anyone can get in on the action now, just like buying and selling stocks over your computer at home.

Once a blog hits a certain threshold, the hits keep coming in with minimal maintenance because other blog sites are busy grabbing and reproducing the posts and linking back to that blog. This has gotten so complex that sometimes I hunt high and low for an original source and can never find it. Once something, however out of context, hits media blogging, it's a throw of the dice if you'll ever find a link back to the REAL original site, because all that is legally required now is to link back to where you're quoting from, and that absolves you of any claim to how real or true what you just reposted may be. I think the only logical thing the comment squabbling goes on about nowadays is whether something might be truly misquoted, but the mangling all that goes through during comments only proves that the more you misquote, the more money you can make. Likewise, opinions have always been weightier than truth, but nothing breathes more life into opinionating than blogging, and blogging is a money machine, so the more opinions spew out, the more money can be generated because more commenting drives more traffic through the ads. The more the world squabbles, the richer someone is becoming...

Lately there is a broohaha going on over Nathan Fillion's response to a request for a photo of him with a piece of twine. Staunch fans who know what the heck is going on are lining up and taking sides, and it's actually kinda funny that right now The Bloggess has actually got more clout to make an impact if she's getting 500 comments over that and he's not...

See, THAT is what the game is all about. How many people can you get to talk about you? If you can get ONE person full of hellbent fans to respond to you like that, you virtually win the game, or you can up the ante and go into high stakes poker with your own hellbent followers. This is what blog watching is all about. That and watching Michio Kaku's twitter get hacked LIVE because I'm up at 3 a.m. watching Olympic feeds on Twitter, and all the trending responses about the hack from Michio's followers were better than watching Comedy Central.

Live response is where I'm at. I'm enjoying the summer so far, watching my twitter feeds during live Merlin filming at Pierrefonds in France, thanks to the fans who were able to hang out there, and live during the San Diego Comic Con, thanks to all the fans and podcasts and actors tweeting their hearts out. Both of those went on for weeks, and I was nearly exhausted by the time it was all over from trying to keep up with the thousands of pictures and videos and blogs being linked.

Now I'm back to watching the entire world fuss back and forth about football coming up, and I'm watching my internal trackers, which aren't that great because I don't get IPs and very good locations like I do with sitemeter, so I'll wave a general hello back just in case some of those footprints happen to be people I know from former glory days. And the rest of you, don't want to leave anyone out.

I believe in our earth being the Magrathean super computer designed by Deep Thought in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and we're all a tiny part of it. The answer to life, the universe, and everything is nearly in our grasp now.
- 3:03 pm
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if there's time to lean, there's time to clean- ug

My mom used to say that her mom used to pretend the Queen (of England, I presume) was coming over as incentive to knuckle down and really clean her house.

That doesn't work for me....

There is no way I can convince myself something that vaguely remote might be possible, given the next door neighbor has never come over in 20 years. My neighbors are rugged individualists with clearly defined property boundaries who spend thousands of dollars every year on their lawns. I'm sure it irks them that we let our grass go to seed before everything dries out, which means we mowed, hang on a sec, lemme check... once this year. While the neighbor nearest us keeps the local hardware store in business with all the chemicals that run off toward our organic chicken house , we spread a little 'zoo doo' on our front yard every 3 to 5 years and do just fine.

Anyway, I don't feel the need to impress anyone.

I think part of my problem is I worked too hard as a kid. My dad is Mennonite and worked a big cattle ranch in Gunnison, and my mom was a city girl who dreamed of marrying a cowboy, and they wound up on a 7 acre nearly self-sustaining farm. I-worked-like-a-dog. Fast forward, my own kids are all grown up and outa here, and I'm tired now.

Another part of my problem is cleaners. I cleaned in a big hospital when I was younger, before wearing gloves was mandatory, and my hands were in and out of the harshest chemicals all day long. I moved on to other jobs and discovered environmentally safe 'green' cleaners and thought How about that, now it's safer for the environment *and* me. But I developed airway restriction while I was using green cleaners on several occasions, and last year had a very abrupt anaphylactic reaction to lemon. Rats. I went back to good old Windex, but I guess over time my immune system had run down and every time I cleaned even a little bit, I felt very weak and sick for a couple of hours. I got to where I had to leave the house while Scott mopped floors. Eventually I did some research and found out that a very concentrated citrus oil solution called limonene is used in all kinds of things, from cleaning supplies to insecticides to candles and perfumes to you name it. Wow. And even if something doesn't contain limonene, I guess something else is affecting me now.

More research. Back to mixing white vinegar and water. Well, look at that, it actually works. Just like my mother used to use when my grandmother pretended the Queen was coming over. And the first thing I noticed was that I didn't feel sick at all while I was cleaning. And the second thing I noticed was that the dread I'd come to know when it came time to clean seemed to be closely tied to that sick feeling I used to get. I thought I just hated cleaning.

So I no longer dread the sick feeling. I just don't want to have to clean at all. I don't hate it, I'm just really tired of doing it.

I've been up and down with illness through my adult life, and I remember when the kids finally got jobs, my youngest brought home some girls on a work exchange program from Hong Kong. I had no warning, and my house was a wreck. Chattering happily in broken English, those silly girls took pictures of everything in my house, including my dirty dishes, my laundry room, my unmade bed, my bathrooms... I'm betting every one of those pictures wound up getting shared, big time. Even though I was really puny that year, that gave me enough incentive to pull it together and at least keep the place picked up. I'm in a pretty good habit of keeping everything picked up now, which is so much easier now that the kids moved out and got married. I'm biding my time till my youngest has kids, and I'm going to pop in for a visit on a rough week and take pictures of every room in her house...

I get a little incentive nowadays in a weird way. I like to Wabble with family online once in awhile, and I've noticed that sometimes one or two of us get so distracted multitasking over videos or facebook or whatever that I wind up sitting around twiddling my thumbs for 20 minutes. I can't sit comfortably for any length of time, thanx to spinal injuries I got rolling a car when I was young, so I've learned to get up after my turn and do a little something, like start a sinkful of dishwater, or get a load of laundry folded. Sometimes a game can last up to 2 hours, and I get a *lot* done. Sometimes all I have to do to get myself up and moving is text around to see who wants to wabble. And that gives me the excuse to sit back down a lot and take little breaks, which works out really well for me since I can't keep my momentum up for very long.

Then there are days when it's just me, I don't feel like playing a game with anyone, and I still need to get something done. I used to at least have a little pride, either do it so Scott wouldn't regret coming home from work to a messy house, or do it because I have standards. That trick works some of the time, but not all of the time, and when you get a week sliding by, you suddenly notice it all built up and dang, now you *have* to do it.

Now my excuse is this oppressive heat. My massage therapist told me she's getting all kinds of calls from other fibromyalgia clients, because this kind of heat triggers muscle inflammation. I have never done summers well since that car wreck, but I never connected that to the heat itself. I learned over the last 5 years that I just simply feel better if I go outside as little as possible in the summer. This year, though, it is SO hot, that even with the AC running, just reaching into a cupboard hung on an outer wall to get a dish is like reaching into an oven. Our 3 story home is more efficient than the neighbor's single story home, and we know this because we were surprised to find out when he complained about his electric bill one year that we use less electricity. We don't have a single hallway in this house, there is no wasted space. We can shut vents and close off rooms, and those rooms become insulators under the attic. The basement temperature never changes year round, being built into the side of the hill. We don't heat or cool it at all. So I'm finding it very noticeable this year that we have heat pockets inside the house, like inside all the cupboards and closets that line the outer walls. My nervous system seems to be acutely responsive to moving through the temperature changes around the house.

So today I'm using a different trick. Stuff piled up again, so I thought I'd bore myself to death writing about it, and in between every paragraph, and sometimes every other sentence, I'm getting up and getting something done. In the time I've written this whole thing I've cleaned two bathrooms, gotten rugs through the wash, put together a homemade soup, cleaned out my refrigerator, and cleaned up part of my kitchen. This is stuff that wouldn't have gotten done if I hadn't found a silly way to trick myself into making it happen. And it'll only work if I actually post this to a blog.

I know, I know, the whole world is watching the olympics right now, so I have an excuse not to even worry about this. And you're not buying this at all, are you? So I'll tell you my *real* incentive. Even though I've got broadband and a great laptop, I'm in a sucky area with a bit of interference, and loading youtubes goes so slow I have to get up and do something. And right now I'm SO BORED that I'm scouring twitter for anything new I can find from fans, and then following whatever wayward links that branch off from there, so stuff like this is my reward for making it as far as I have today, because otherwise I'd have no incentive to be this patient with the internet. So thank you, Bradley James, for being pretty, and thanx to anyasg1 for taking the time to load it 13 days ago. And to all of you who read this far and dig this guy, treats on me. You're welcome.
- 4:20 pm
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on a cicada-free night, you'd think we'd sleep

Tonight has been ~waaaay~ too exciting. Scott and I both woke up around 2 with our eyes oozing, kudos to whatever can still pollinate all night after days and days of utterly wilting heat and drought, and thank goodness there are Olympics on several channels, because tv pretty much sucks at 3 a.m. So I got back on twitter to catch the funny stuff everyone is saying about watching Olympics (general consensus says Ralph Lauren made us look anti-American), but I got completely distracted watching Michio Kaku's twitter getting hacked ~LIVE~... *That* was some funny stuff. Following twitter reactions to that was better than watching Comedy Central, people in general are so witty and hilarious, it was awesome.

And if that weren't exciting enough, Scott suddenly decided, after a year and a half into a total peanut ban in my life, that he was going to break out an old jar of peanut butter he had stashed away for to make peanut butter toast with some cereal, and I'm like *D*U*D*E*, wtcrap?!?!?!?! It's not exciting enough already, you want to risk me having an anaphylactic reaction at 4 in the morning??? omgheissodumb. I can't even let my skin touch the edge of a sleeve that has lightly brushed a suet block for a bird feeder without itching like mad and breaking out in sores and swelling, and he would have kissed me good night later without a second thought...

So this whole night has been one long adrenaline surge, and I've never been the sort who could go back to sleep and get up at noon. And all this is with benadryl. Looks like my plan for tomorrow is to be as lazyasIwannabe.
- 5:33 am
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Is anybody else watching Lost all over again?

I am getting sucked back into Lost on G4, watched the first two eps yesterday on my dvr. That show debuted in September 2004 right around the time my mom was in the hospital for a week with her broken hip, and wasn't long after that I was going through the bankruptcy stuff with my dad and then the bell's palsy, which got so bad it affected my brain. No wonder I couldn't get into it back then. So I feel like I'm getting a second chance to cycle back around through those years and pull myself back together. Me and Lost are on a journey, and this is all part of the whole me I'm going to wind up with. I've been fragmented too long. 8 years of me to patch back up. I spent my 40's plunging slowly into epic face palm starting with a death in the family at the beginning of '04, and by the middle of '07 I couldn't even walk due to back injury, '08 was months of recovery from a nasty CMV infection in my liver and wound up with total disability, '09 was a medication nightmare, and then my mom died. I can't even talk about 2010 up through this year yet, with all the crazy new food allergies being the least of my problems.

My 50's need to be about my rebirth, like a phoenix. Like Lost...

I saw the sixth season when it aired, so going back and seeing the very first season all over is like full circle, all those hints they made, it all makes sense now. I hope life is like that. I want it all to make sense, like the backgammon game John set up on the beach.

Click on John for the wiki page on that episode.

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My first tracker was installed in 2004 and broke several times before moving to a new server, which lost a few months of stats, and then Xanga moved to new servers and I lost more stats for more months before the page came back up, so I've lost a total of about two years' worth of stats. The second was installed 2-22-14 and is considered very conservative by business owners who use analytics, which itself is very conservative, estimates being that roughly one third to one half of hits by real live people aren't even counted, most likely due to javascript discrepancies. Actual hits on several posts here are in the thousands now, and the Lexx Index in the ten thousands. I've got pingbacks turned off, so spam isn't counted at all within the Xanga internal tracker, and most direct post hits can be correlated to my real time linking activity on twitter and other social media. When I did Google Analytics beta testing I got to see how search engine performance compares to tracking. I believe live feed linking sources to various social medias are key to a future where search engines are more about performance than cataloging, which has been confirmed to me by coders who create bot algorithms as I was beta testing paper.li. I've fought hard through redundant age-old stacks to make my way to the google front lines again, so my Lexx work shows up faster on Chrome searches now. This has been a really interesting ride. At any rate, my point is, I can still go back 6 years on my original tracker and I can still see that in 2013 just before the last big blog server move, I was getting traffic like this (and since then, the tracker may have been abandoned, we can't tell). Click the thumbnail to see full size.

My original tracker also still lets me see the latest 500 visitors on a map. I once counted over 80 countries among the total visits. You guys are not alone. Click the map to see it better.

Besides Lexx, the most common search phrases that bring new visitors here are variations on 'huge spaceship'. The most seen post from a phrase search is How Big is the Lexx? My biggest Lexx referrer is Lexx Domain. Most of page views per person count comes from the Lexx tag on Tumblr. Visitors who stay the longest come through URLOpener and are pinged through the Google translator server in Mountain View, CA.

Lexx Index

Lexxperience

Google+