I have a sprawling website that's filled with everything from ancient static content (a cobwebsite, really) to "live" updates every few days that are not archived (unlike a blog, which I have as well).
What I found is that when I'm blogging, I'm conscious of making it good enduring stuff (the curse of being a writer)... but nobody 3 years from now is going to care that I'm spending this week ordering boat
goodies online and clearing out my lab so it can be properly insulated. So I post to the live page
with fleeting ephemeral details about what's happening now, and use the Nomadness blog
for commentary that is worth saving
In addition to those, I archive more substantial articles in their own collection
, and one can wander off into all sorts of arcane directions, some less relevant than others, from the front door
that is still named after my previous boat project
(There is also a category of real-time stuff, which will go live when the on-board linux
server flickers to life sometime in the next few weeks. This will include a mirror of the webcams, a few dozen data-collection points, twitter-like annotations about what's up, the GPS
tracker, and so on.)
Annoyingly, some of this is feeling like a bit of a liability... it all has to be maintained, even when voyaging. Unless I can find a base office manager who can pretty much do everything, I'll probably still be hand-coding HTML and fiddling with FTP and SSH sessions via insanely expensive satellite
links or tenuous connections to shore over an arcane lash-up of beams and WiFi
widgetry. Sometimes I just want to shut it all off, go dark, and slip away with a minimum of blinkies!
But the Inner Geek wouldn't be satisfied.
Cheers from the nomadhouse,