Site was down. Oops.

Out of the blue I decided to check the one active email address I have at smushybrain.com this morning. I hardly ever check that particular email account anymore... Anyway, I discovered that my automatic credit card billing didn't go through a couple weeks ago and my web hosting was suspended. I'm guessing that it went down at midnight last night since I was able to post a blog entry yesterday. I would have been so confused if I had tried to post a blog entry today before I checked my email and found out what was up.

Luckily my site came back up within a few minutes of me taking care of updating my CC information and paying my outstanding bill.

Not too much to report today other than that.

I spent a couple hours last night after work going through old school papers, notebooks and folders from when I was at Clarkson that I had no idea I still had. I was surprised at how much junk I had brought home with me, stashed and forgot about. I filled about 75% of my car's trunk with junk to be thrown out. I wish our apartment complex recycled paper other than newspaper since about 90% of the stuff that went in the dumpster was paper.

I did come across some old stuff that I had written and drawn in my notebooks when I should have been taking notes. (Quite a bit of stuff, actually...) I'm thinking about taking a crack at putting some more of my horrible old "teen angst poetry" up on the web again for nostalgia's sake. I haven't had that much personal stuff up on the internet since I took my first domain (atomicnut.com) down off the internet in around 2002 when it was hijacked by a horrible free web host that wouldn't let me renew it and later purchased by someone who tried to sell it back to me for much more than it was worth. (I was embarrassed to tell people my domain name was atomicnut, anyway, because they immediately thought it was a porn site.)

It's kind of weird to read most of what I wrote in those days. It's actually kind of hard to remember what I was thinking and feeling, too. Just flipping page to page in an old notebook makes me think I was almost bipolar. One second it's some crappy, sappy love poem about my crush of the moment and the next it's borderline suicidal sounding. Chalk it up to hormones, I guess...