Researchers all over the world are scrambling to push for the immediate commencement of emergency restoration campaigns in lieu of the recent discovery that hosma is, in fact, critically endangered, with only one singular specimen remaining on the entire face of our planet; the question of how they could have possibly taken this long to come to such a blatantly obvious realization remains shrouded in uncertainty.

For those lacking in snow: hosma is a bit of an eccentric oddball, and perhaps even somewhat of a phenomenon. He's lowkey chill as fuck and enjoys making up words and circumlocatory idioms – because there can never be enough of them.

He is a serial N-dash abuser and semicolon misuser; he's somewhat recently taken an interest in punctuation after reading a very British book called Eats, Shoots & Leaves [ISBN 978-0-00-732906-9] at the recommendation of a (now ex-)coworker. He's probably not doing that great a job of it, but it brings him satisfaction to adorn his fancy words with likewise schmancy symbols. He also loathes all the regional disparities, and advises against asking a press editor such things as what the exclamation mark is commonly referred to as in their biz.

Yes: I am hosma, or at the very least I used to be him; if I ever stopped being hosma, that must have been a year or two ago, back when I moved to the then-seemingly-greener pastures of the United Shires of Anglia.

You really wouldn't think so, but there is indeed, as it turns out, such a ridiculous thing as the feeling of being too fatigued to even put in the effort to be someone – anyone.

When 70% of every week of your life is monopolized by harrassment from customers, the commute to work, and the monotonous intermissions provided by the eating, showering, and sleeping thereafter—which, by the way, is further hampered by the shouting and thumping on the other side of what must be the thinnest wall ever built by human hands, but more on that in the future—the entirity of what's left must be spent wisely on, for example, maintaining your long-distance relationship. It gets pretty dog-gone draining, especially if you're too stubborn to give anything up – besides yourself, of course, because you're definitely the least important thing in your life.

Well, some may have guessed already, but my solution to the overwhelming psychological anguish resulting in from the aforementioned situation, you see, has been something called autopiloting, which is the polar opposite of what the young'uns (I'm in my 20s, by the way) call locking in; i.e., I've basically been sleep-walking all throughout the past two years of my life – which really puts the ‘gone’ in the ‘dog’!

I'm still struggling to disengage, but I finally feel ready to try being someone—hosma—once again; wherefore I am returning to this somethingburger of a blog.

I have been longing for a while now to start writing again. I'd kept a physical journal for several short periods of time and, while it was a lot—lot fun to assault the page with the acute tip of my cheap fountain pen, the required effort had unfortunately caused my motivation to ultimately wane soon thereafter. I do plan on eventually returning to the paper, but a digital scrapyard will do me just fine in the meantime.

Many things have changed throughout the years, and they include my attitude towards the web: while I do maintain that any public work should ideally look at least somewhat appealing, I no longer have a problem with the opposite; if you want your creation to look like the most appalling dogshit conceivable, or to be GeoCities-style retro- or even just textslop like this one – awesome, go for it! There is a severe and depressing lack of personality everywhere nowadays, so just bee yourself 🐝 (bzz-bzz) – but seriously, though!

The previous iteration of this site—which I'm sorry for rather Microsoftly promising to be final, by the way, even though we all knew the truth deep down—was indeed pretty and clean, which I still very much like about it, but I've seriously grown to resent the whole SPA thing: it's a bookmarking, archiving, and just all-around navigational nightmare, and it just feels janky as all hell! It's probably the biggest reason as to why I've completely abandoned my website up until now: it felt like a disgusting pain to update anything – so much for convenience!

Indeed, the current version I fancy much more: it's pretty, clean, and for the most part static: JavaScript is just a bit of spice sprinkled on top – as it should be, really. The design is cute and straight to the point, lets me focus on what I actually care about, and has the potential to grow alongside me.

To give credit where it's due, my inspirations have been the austere remains of strata, the enchanting typemanship of 't Satyrwoud, and the comfortable simplicity of Motherfucking Website, Better Motherfucking Website, and Even Better Motherfucking Website.

For the record, I think that The Best Motherfucking Website, in all honestly, really fucking sucks. It's a prime example as to why you never hear of such thing as a quadrilogy.

With all that being said, this new blog shall hopefully serve as an all-in-one CaaS solution for keeping all of my unnecessary autismoblabbering and trauma-dumping in check.

Cheers for reading, and let's see where it goes this time around!

Also: probably the longest entry I've written so far – woo!