Today’s “Build a Better Blog” task has something to do with sneezing and my blog. There’s a combination that I never would have come up with on my own.
Clearly, I need to think outside of the box more.*
Back to sneezing.
The instructions are to create a Sneeze Page. Seriously. Who named that one? And what is it? (It’s a page that shows off some of your best past blog entries from your archive.) There are, of course, reasons listed (on the Problogger page) as to why this is a good idea to do. In reading those reasons, I noticed that the Problogger dude said that he spent HOURS, even DAYS, creating blog posts. Um… right… my five minutes a post clearly does NOT compare. I’m so lazy.
I must admit, though, that while reading about this oddly named task, I thought of all of the changes that I ought to make to my sidebar. And then I remembered Websense.
Curs-ed Websense.
This is our company’s software that blocks internet access or locks us down to 15 minutes a day for browsing certain website categories. This is my quota time. This is not related to the dating quota the Bishop expects the men in my ward to meet. Just thought I’d clear that up.
Every time I go to my blog (to post an entry, to reply to comments, to just gaze on its superficial beauty), I must use quota time because my blog is in the quota category “Social Networking and Personal Sites.” See, I think it would be great to take my lunch break today and make some updates to my sidebar information here. However, it might could take more than 15 minutes. And then, I’d be ALL OUT OF TIME TO POST TODAY’S ENTRY OR TO REPLY TO A SINGLE COMMENT.
(Grrr.)
Sometimes, I wish I could tell Websense: “Hey, I’m on lunch so how about if you just give me 30 or 60 minutes of browsing “Sports,” “Shopping,” and MY BLOG? Mmmkay, thanks.”
I want you to know that I used FIVE MINUTES of my precious quota to make a few MINOR changes to my sidebar, including this blog’s VERY FIRST SNEEZE PAGE. How exciting!
*Once, I wrote a really strange poem about some college kid trying to think outside the box and the last line of the poem went something like: “I lay there, staring up at the stars in the sky and thought, ‘where the hell is the ceiling?'” (Pardon the language, grumma.)
Sciolist in the City of Salt and Saints 