Ziked

If you havent realized that Ziked looks a little different, then something is wrong with you. Well i got fed up by the banal look of Ziked and so it got a re-design over this weekend. Here are the updates:

1. New Theme: The problem with the previous theme was that it was was too boring plus the image files caused the page-load time to go up. The new theme was inspired by an amazing girl named Laura Veir (and she helped with the color pallete too). I am still doubtful about the color pallete especially due to the fact this is the first time I have not used black as part of the theme.
2. Framework changes: This is where probably the biggest changes have come. Unlike the basic html-based version, the new site is pure CSS which not only make page rendering faster but also clean up the coding process. Also the new design needs to load only one image file as part of the theme which makes it better. Also the site renders perfectly in the dreaded Internet Explorer 6
3. Archives:The new archives page is like nothing you have ever seen. It’s unique and very few sites on the internet has something as cool as the new archives page. So check it out.
4. Comments: Theres a new comment system in place which is way better the previous comment system. Now you can comment on everything. Also the comments will no longer look messed up. The comments are powered by Disqus
5. No More Ads: I was making about $30- 50 bucks a month from the ads. But the ads were irrelevant (kitchen appliances and ziked have no corrolation whatsover) and I got tired asking people to click. Also i am too big of an anti-capitalist to have ads from big brother Google on my tumble-log. The new monetary model revolves around sponsors . But not just any, only sponsors that are relevant and have good things to offer. (like our friends over at vimeo
6. Mobile Version: Now you can get Ziked on your cell phone. Just point your mobile browser to http://www.ziked.com/mobile to read the special mobile version of Ziked designed for your cell phone. Also iPhone owners should be pleased to know that you can get the full version of Ziked on their safari browser
7. Better RSS: If you are a person who is addicted to their RSS-reader, you’ll be pleased to know that the full content is available at our RSS feed.
8. Audio: Thanks to the update from tumblr, I can now post audio. So expect to see song songs from my iTunes library which has 3127 songs as of now
9. Not a blog; it’s a tumble-log: Seriously, do not label ziked as a blog. It’s a tumble-logA tumblelog is a stream of consciousness. A series of images, links, videos, quotes, and short blurbs that don’t necessarily share a common thread, but can collectively be pieced together to form a personality. If conversations exists, it doesn’t exist on the tumblelog itself, but throughout the entire internet. If I expect to see feedback anywhere, it’s on someone else’s site.

• I lost my first camera on a field trip  Amy had my camera
• i got a new camera instead which takes awesome pics.(but it’s too small for me - i like cameras that are bulky and not-stylish)
• I also got a new internet tablet
• I am going to stop posting stuff for Ziked,stop programming (no visual baisc, CSS or AJAX) temporarily block facebook, stop reading other blogs for the next few months or so ——- because I really have to get my college work done (which I am still procrascinating) and cause I need to catch up on my personal reading list (finish Dharma Bums, Ishmael, Visions of Cody and The Brothers Karamazov by the end of this year) .

Ziked! needs sponsors to keep this tumble-log running. By sponsoring us, you get

• a permanent link on the menu bar (which will be visible for as long as you sponsor us).
• Your product/ service will be mentioned at the end of every post
• If you want we will even do a free review of your product if accomodated.
• sponsor name underneath the title bar

Ziked is a relatively new tumble-log. We get between 20-1000 visitors a day. 97.66 % of the visitors are New Visitors. We are also popular on social new websites like Digg. IF you decide to sponsor, we will send you our Googlle Analytics Report to show our monthly visitor overview. Also each week you will get a new report to see how many people clicked on your link and so on.In addition you will also get a “ziked” email address powered by GMail with over 2 Gbs of storage space.

The rates for sponsoring Ziked! are:

• $7 for a week
• $20 for a month
• $30 for two months
• $45 for three months
• $100 for a year

If you are interested, e-mail me at me at mirzar dot com (without the spaces of course) or leave a comment below if you would like any other arrangements for contacting me. Make sure to leave your name , the site URL and the company name on the message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

Heres a list of all the actual blog posts (written by me) published on Ziked. The reason why it’s seperate from the archives page can be best explained by Ricky Van Veen’s post:Words have relative values. Someone who talks a lot has less value to their words than someone who rarely speaks. But when that quiet person speaks, people listen. When you publish 20 posts a day, your individual posts lose value. And when you finally do have something important to say, it gets lost among the clutter. So heres the list of stuff that were written by me and express my thoughts alone:

The following content was originally written by Albert Camus and is reproduced under a free license:

 The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back
of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless
labor.

If one believes Homer, Sisyphus was the wisest and most prudent of mortals. According to another tradition, however, he
was disposed to practice the profession of highwayman. I see no contradiction in this. Opinions differ as to the reasons why
he became the futile laborer of the underworld. To begin with, he is accused of a certain levity in regard to the gods. He
stole their secrets. Egina, the daughter of Esopus, was carried off by Jupiter. The father was shocked by that disappearance
and complained to Sisyphus. He, who knew of the abduction, offered to tell about it on condition that Esopus would give
water to the citadel of Corinth. To the celestial thunderbolts he preferred the benediction of water. He was punished for this
in the underworld. Homer tells us also that Sisyphus had put Death in chains. Pluto could not endure the sight of his
deserted, silent empire. He dispatched the god of war, who liberated Death from the hands of her conqueror.

It is said that Sisyphus, being near to death, rashly wanted to test his wife’s love. He ordered her to cast his unburied body
into the middle of the public square. Sisyphus woke up in the underworld. And there, annoyed by an obedience so contrary
to human love, he obtained from Pluto permission to return to earth in order to chastise his wife. But when he had seen
again the face of this world, enjoyed water and sun, warm stones and the sea, he no longer wanted to go back to the
infernal darkness. Recalls, signs of anger, warnings were of no avail. Many years more he lived facing the curve of the gulf,
the sparkling sea, and the smiles of earth. A decree of the gods was necessary. Mercury came and seized the impudent man
by the collar and, snatching him from his joys, lead him forcibly back to the underworld, where his rock was ready for him.

You have already grasped that Sisyphus is the absurd hero. He is, as much through his passions as through his torture. His
scorn of the gods, his hatred of death, and his passion for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is
exerted toward accomplishing nothing. This is the price that must be paid for the passions of this earth. Nothing is told us
about Sisyphus in the underworld. Myths are made for the imagination to breathe life into them. As for this myth, one sees
merely the whole effort of a body straining to raise the huge stone, to roll it, and push it up a slope a hundred times over;
one sees the face screwed up, the cheek tight against the stone, the shoulder bracing the clay-covered mass, the foot
wedging it, the fresh start with arms outstretched, the wholly human security of two earth-clotted hands. At the very end of
his long effort measured by skyless space and time without depth, the purpose is achieved. Then Sisyphus watches the
stone rush down in a few moments toward that lower world whence he will have to push it up again toward the summit. He
goes back down to the plain.

It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me. A face that toils so close to stones is already stone itself! I see
that man going back down with a heavy yet measured step toward the torment of which he will never know the end. That
hour like a breathing-space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those
moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is
stronger than his rock.

If this myth is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious. Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of
succeeding upheld him? The workman of today works everyday in his life at the same tasks, and his fate is no less absurd.
But it is tragic only at the rare moments when it becomes conscious. Sisyphus, proletarian of the gods, powerless and
rebellious, knows the whole extent of his wretched condition: it is what he thinks of during his descent. The lucidity that
was to constitute his torture at the same time crowns his victory. There is no fate that can not be surmounted by scorn.

If the descent is thus sometimes performed in sorrow, it can also take place in joy. This word is not too much. Again I
fancy Sisyphus returning toward his rock, and the sorrow was in the beginning. When the images of earth cling too tightly to
memory, when the call of happiness becomes too insistent, it happens that melancholy arises in man’s heart: this is the
rock’s victory, this is the rock itself. The boundless grief is too heavy to bear. These are our nights of Gethsemane. But
crushing truths perish from being acknowledged. Thus, Edipus at the outset obeys fate without knowing it. But from the
moment he knows, his tragedy begins. Yet at the same moment, blind and desperate, he realizes that the only bond linking
him to the world is the cool hand of a girl. Then a tremendous remark rings out: “Despite so many ordeals, my advanced
age and the nobility of my soul make me conclude that all is well.” Sophocles’ Edipus, like Dostoevsky’s Kirilov, thus gives
the recipe for the absurd victory. Ancient wisdom confirms modern heroism.

One does not discover the absurd without being tempted to write a manual of happiness. “What!—-by such narrow ways—?” There is but one world, however. Happiness and the absurd are two sons of the same earth. They are inseparable. It would
be a mistake to say that happiness necessarily springs from the absurd. discovery. It happens as well that the felling of the
absurd springs from happiness. “I conclude that all is well,” says Edipus, and that remark is sacred. It echoes in the wild and
limited universe of man. It teaches that all is not, has not been, exhausted. It drives out of this world a god who had come
into it with dissatisfaction and a preference for futile suffering. It makes of fate a human matter, which must be settled
among men.

All Sisyphus’ silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is a thing Likewise, the absurd man, when he
contemplates his torment, silences all the idols. In the universe suddenly restored to its silence, the myriad wondering little
voices of the earth rise up. Unconscious, secret calls, invitations from all the faces, they are the necessary reverse and price
of victory. There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night. The absurd man says yes and his efforts
will henceforth be unceasing. If there is a personal fate, there is no higher destiny, or at least there is, but one which he
concludes is inevitable and despicable. For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days. At that subtle moment
when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning toward his rock, in that slight pivoting he contemplates that
series of unrelated actions which become his fate, created by him, combined under his memory’s eye and soon sealed by his
death. Thus, convinced of the wholly human origin of all that is human, a blind man eager to see who knows that the night
has no end, he is still on the go. The rock is still rolling.

I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one’s burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity
that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to
him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a
world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.