It has been an interesting year. The last 12 months saw me finish my first year as “boss” in my real existence, and start fresh in my virtual life.

I know many of you from the “place that will not be named.” Tired of unmitigated bullshit; a rigged photo contest, plagiarism, and constant sniping, I ventured forth and started inane ramblings. When logging in causes your blood pressure to rise more than a classroom of Grades 1s, or eating an entire pound of bacon in a single sitting, it’s time to make a change.

I knew nothing about domains, SEO, WordPress, CSS, or PHP. I quickly learned. By some miracle, I found you, my friends, some old, some new, and am now part of a vibrant community. You have made my virtual life as lively as my real one. I no longer feel as isolated as I once did, a world away, a strange man in a strange land.

Things started slow but have picked up. This little blog broke even, and has paid for 2008. Yes, I occasionally pimp out a post, but I have plans.

This year saw my first wedding anniversary, both of them, my slide towards that frightening milestone of 40, much joy, some heartbreaks, many toys, and the realization that my life, although I never thought it would be, is good. I have no regrets at present. As I say this, I know Karma will kick my ass to the curb, just to keep me in line.

Raise a glass: Here’s to continued friendships, good posts, and humorous comments. Here’s to marvelous captures and verbose verbiage. To friends, new and old, to an uncertain but interesting future.

Cheers. May your 2008 be as good as my 2007.

2007
Page Views: 21,348
Posts: 288
Comments: 1154
Alexa: 410.748, with a bullet

With the new year nearly upon us I thought it time to reflect on what once was. Hence, the semi-restored photo of a young, slobbering Stevo. I still drool, but only after imbibing.

Yes, I am reduced to baby pictures. I can promise this: Photographs of cats will never grace these pages. (I’m of the belief that the internet was really created by an evil cabal of cat lovers as a way to share the photographs of their feline companions. Of course this technology didn’t yet exist, they were forward thinkers.)

This was in my desk drawer, something sent by my sister, the keeper of the family albums. I think I’ll make restoring it a winter project.

Bye-bye 2007, Hello 2008. Goodbye Pig, Hello Rat/Mouse/Rodentia. Good luck to my friends and enemies. May 2008 bring peace and happiness.

Friends, Romans, fellow bloggers:

A great misfortune has befallen the Stevo. Somehow, he has been labeled by Askimet, WordPress’s spam filter, as spam. Yes, all my comments on WordPress.com are being stuffed into your overly ripe spam comment box. I don’t often post links to “farm animal sex girl” websites, I don’t understand why this occurred. The injustice! The horror!

I am told it will take a few days for my details to be removed from the Askimet database. The situation probably isn’t helped by the in-progress silly season. For the sake of the Stevo, give your spam comments a look. If I am listed please de-spam me. This will release from the Askimet cage of silence sooner.

What does St. Nic have in his bag? The Santa is not me, I’m working magic behind the camera.
No more Santa photos, I promise.

December 25, 2007, Shenzhen, China.

Why would an anarchist listen to the Queen of England’s Christmas message year after year? A good question. I was in my mid-20s when Lizzie and her December 25th broadcast became part of my life. Back then, the holidays were a break in an insane routine. For two weeks I was allowed out of my cubicle: I saw daylight, and children, and ate meals neither deep-fried or wrapped in paper.

It started one December 25th after watching the kids open their presents, eating breakfast and consuming homemade Bailey’s. The refined and cultured voice of Queen Elizabeth the Second came over the small speakers of the radio. CBC Radio, unknown to me, played her Christmas message each year.

Stevo: Hey, The Queen is on the radio!

Friends: Yes, she is every year.

Stevo: Really?

Friends: Yes. (in a tone that said ‘Shut up, already.’)

I listened as she spoke of the holidays and her family. Her personal strength, her resolve, came through with each word.

Growing up Canadian I knew who the queen was: Some old lady that was marginally involved with my country. As I entered the turbulent teenage years I wanted the old crone’s image off my country’s currency. As I listened to Johnny Rotten call for Anarchy in the UK I flipped a mental bird to the white-haired broad in London. Teenagers, as a general rule, are silly, moronic creatures.

Years later, I saw a biography about Elizabeth, a week in her life, and my opinion changed dramatically. I thought she sat around her castle(s), drank tea, ate crumpets, and did little else. No. She was answering mail from veterans with pension concerns, and traversing the UK visiting the old and opening monuments: The Hardest Working Lady in Royalty. I discovered a new respect both for her office and the place that it held in the history of my nation. When Chinese friends visit my apartment I am inevitably asked if the portrait of the older lady on the wall is my grandmother. No, my wife answers, that is the Queen of Canada.

I listen to HRH’s message each Christmas morning. This year she went digital, her traditional greetings were posted on YouTube. Embedding was disabled. I’m still enough of an anarchist to post the ripped version. No, I’m not flipping Lizzie the bird any more, only a slight hacker’s raspberry.Merry Christmas, Elizabeth. Your family has had its share of troubles. So has mine. Living in a country with few Christmas traditions, your message reminded me of times past, and my far away family.

I dislike being photographed (see above). Former student Thomas and I aren’t shooting each other, but making the Chinese sign for cool. All the boys do it in photos. When in Rome, or China, be cool.