And while I am working on being an evolved, peaceful person, content with the gifts the Universe has given me, when I see someone else do something on a blog or in a book that looks really amazing, I want that. I want it now.
Being the
the little image or picture that appears in the web window to the left of the actual page name when a page is open - FaceBook's little white f on blue, Blogger's white B on orange - I know it has a name - but WHAT?Turns out it's called a FavIcon, or favicon. Favorite + icon. Who knew? Besides Paula, but then, Paula knows and sees all.
Paula even twittered a link, except that the link she put up, while totally slick at creating a favicon, was not able to help me slip a pic with the file extension .ico into my Picasa picture album. Not even stuffing her bra and asking her to wear a slutty skirt (Not that she was asking for it, even if she was dressed like a slut. Ya'll know how I feel about that.)
See, Paula's a Mac girl, and I'm PC all the way, baby! I've stuck to PC because that's what I use at my day job, and I am, frankly, not a techno-geek. Lots of other kinds of geek, absolutely, but starting talking HTML and my brain gets out the butterfly net, and not to post the pretty things as favicons.
Still. Now I had the name, surely I could query Blogger Help and get some answers. I did. Not in English, but I got answers. There was one answerer rated at 3 stars or nerd points or however it works, and I tried his answer, but I might as well have been trying to swim to the moon.
I also got one, good link [cue the Hallulujah chorus here.] Hubpages. They spoke techno-retard. After only about 3 hours of blood, sweat and cursing, I was able to get my little butterfly. (Although, sadly, now that I have it, I have to admit, it ain't real impressive as an favicon.)
Still. I did it. I figured it out all by myself. (With Paula's help, and Blogger's help, and Hubpages help, and...)
I feel triumphant. I feel powerful. I am Blogger Woman!
If I have to, I can do anything. Even add a butterfly as a favicon.
(The audio is unbelievably crappy on this, but it's an authentic live version, not just a lip-synch performance, and I prefer the heart and soul that shines through here to the ones with cleaner sound. Amazing lyrics, even 40 years later.)
Part of me resents having to do this technical BS at all. I'm a writer, dammit! I should just be able to focus on writing, not deal with all this... stuff.
Reality is, if we are not Stephen King (and out of all the possible Writing in Flow readers on the planet, There Can Be Only One,) we don't get to build our own baseball diamond and set our own rules. When/if we become the mighty Casey at the plate, we can afford to pay someone to keep the PR machine rolling. Until then, this is the way the game is played.
Suck it up; there's no crying in baseball.
FYI, if you are having problems, paste your code EXACTLY where these peeps tell you to, in the picture, below. Because that actually works. (As opposed to the creative ways I thought it should work.)
Even though I hated doing it, I am still proud I got it done. I beat up on a butterfly, I rule!
Have you struggled with technology and blogging?
Do you have a "wisdom born of pain" story? Please share.
P.S. The Fabulous Roni Loren of Fiction Groupie (who does, in fact, use her own favicon, as noted above) will be here to share her wisdom born of pain/experience this Monday, July 11. Ya'll come back, you'll be glad you did.
P.S.S. As one of my commenters has pointed out, about 3 days after I write this Blogger came with the feature to add your own Favicon, as part of the Design dashboard. Which is how it usually works - after I have cried and sweated, suddenly it - whatever "it" is - is now available at the touch of a button. Oh well.
P.S.S. As one of my commenters has pointed out, about 3 days after I write this Blogger came with the feature to add your own Favicon, as part of the Design dashboard. Which is how it usually works - after I have cried and sweated, suddenly it - whatever "it" is - is now available at the touch of a button. Oh well.
