A note from the headmistress

Remember those hazy, crazy golden olden days of the Internet? When we took pictures with cameras, and felt like gods when we used javascript pop-ups to insert said photos into lively, vaguely anonymous blog posts? Well, I do.

The Sagbottom Home for Wayward Girls was my web home from 2001 through 2009. I had arty-farty photo galleries, English-major-friendly e-cards, all sorts of quaint-by-modern-standards bells and whistles. Through a long, idiotic chain of non-events, I lost the domain to Australian squatters who, for whatever reason, apparently believed they had something worth monetizing. They never sold it — not even back to me, though I did ask — all of which is significant because it rather soundly proves my theory of “any random word can become a kink on the Internet” quite wrong indeed.

Heartsick, I swore off blogging for forever. Hung out on Twitter. Started a novel on which I still regularly slog. Got cancer! And I got better! I started jogging, and working out with weights, and for the love of all things holy who could have ever predicted that? And then, through yet another series of random non-events, I found myself staring once again at my old darling web-home, abandoned by its cruel hijackers, begging for color and throw rugs and knick-knacks and furballs.

Magical things kind of happened. I found years of archived posts, though a few bits and pieces are still hiding from me. Dear reader, most of that archived stuff is cringe-worthy in some way or another, but as I saunter towards decrepitude, I care not. I was pleasantly surprised to see that some links still work, some pictures survived. And oh, I don’t even know. It feels good to be back.

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