Going Away

Things might get quiet around here for the next two weeks, unless I somehow find high-speed Internet access and the time to blog while I'm on summer vacation. Yes, that's right: once a year, my husband finds the will to break free of his job so that we can get away--or at least pull as far as the company leash will stretch. We still have to provide them exact details on where we will be staying and how they can contact my husband, just in case something big happens and they need to reel him back in, non-refundable tickets and endless hours of vacation planning be damned.

So everyone keep their fingers crossed for us that nothing big happens.

Hopefully I'll have something interesting to report when I get back. I better start packing. Have to leave in a few hours.

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Ripples

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Consumed by Marriage

Yesterday, while having lunch with a bunch of girl friends, the conversation turned to chick lit. I've disparaged the use of the term "chick flick" in the past, for its illogically negative connotations; I am not offended by "chick lit." Why? Perhaps because I think the limiting sound of it fits the writing style.

Before any chick lit fans start rolling their eyes, relax, this is not a bashing post. I'll be the first to concede that I probably haven't read widely enough in the genre to form a fair and accurate opinion. So any chick lit related comments that follow are based solely on what I have read to date.

My main problem with chick lit is that it seems to paint women with very narrow brush strokes. And this is what I stated at yesterday's lunch. I explained that in my limited chick lit experience, the female protagonist's desperation to get married always seems so disturbingly extreme. You know how they say men think about sex every seven seconds? Well, the books I've read would have us believe single women think about marriage at an equal frequency, with expensive footwear and/or losing weight dominating the intermittent seconds.

Anyhow, around the table came varying responses. One friend professed to having never heard of chick lit. A few said that they enjoyed the genre (but as a somewhat fluffy, guilty pleasure). Then, a lady who I'd only met that day smiled at me and asked, "Are you married?" I said yes, and her smile widened knowingly as she assured me that that was why I couldn't possibly understand the appeal of chick lit. She then added that she and her fellow single sisters were indeed thoroughly consumed with thoughts of finding that special man and could readily relate to chick lit characters.

Is this truly how the majority of women feel? If so, why? Because of the security marriage brings? But a husband could die tomorrow. Or meet a woman and think, "Oops, actually I think maybe this one's the love of my life." Sometimes I wonder if human beings were meant to pass such an extended amount of time in the exclusive company of one person, or even a handful of specific people. For example, if we're forced to spend more than two weeks together under the same roof, my family begins plotting ways of killing each other.

Then why did I get married? Before I met my husband, I'd been dead-set against it--mostly as a result of long-term observations, and thanks in part to my dad's enthusiastic accounts of his own friends' marriages in all their gory detail: infidelity, resentment, abuse, loss, and not a happily wed pair in the lot. If I found a nice guy, wonderful; but marriage was to be avoided if I had any sense of self preservation. Unfortunately, I never foresaw the obstacle called Japanese immigration. But that's another story.

On the other hand, at one time or other, many of my single friends have admitted concern that they might never get married. And I sympathize. I do remember what it feels like to be single. But while my views on marriage may be a bit extreme (and outright hypocritical now, given my marital status), I'd like to think that the woman at yesterday's lunch wasn't entirely correct, that not all women are wholly consumed with the Quest for Man, and that most realize that finding a guy is only one of life's many satisfactions. And maybe I don't want to believe that real women can actually relate to the chick lit characters I've encountered.

Am I being an insufferable, arrogant married lady again?

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Been a Mad, Mad Girl

A strange sickness has overwhelmed me, compelling me in the direction of manic domesticity. This evening, in between fielding emailed questions and requests from the office, I baked a sourdough banana cake, mixed up two batches of sourdough bread (one extremely wet dough and one dry; I'm experimenting), washed all the rugs and carpets, vacuumed the apartment, got down on my knees and wiped every inch of floor, gave the shower room a thorough scrubbing, I've got chicken marinating in the fridge for tomorrow's lunch, and as I type this I've got a rejuvenating face mask on. All I need to complete the picture are cotton balls between my freshly painted toenails.

I realize this may be a "So what?" moment for some people. But you have to know me. Have you ever lived with a person who could drop, say, a sock or magazine on the floor and happily ignore it until it fossilized and melded with the linoleum? I do that. You know that thing called "making the bed"--what is that about? And although I do the dishes fairly regularly, I have to make little deals with myself, like, "You want a cup of tea? Not until you wash that mug in the sink." It's rather sad, but I've learned to live with myself. Unfortunately, my husband, who is something of a neat freak, hasn't had nearly as much time to come to terms with this slob called wife.

Just a second--time to take off my mask and turn my doughs.

Okay, I'm back. Wow, the dough that I made extra hydrated is looking like a milkshake puddle on the kitchen counter while the firm dough is standing a little too stiffly at attention. I hope I didn't go overboard. I'm feeling pessimistic because the banana cake I baked earlier came out gross. YES, there is such a thing as over-overripe bananas. I guess the mist of fruit flies drifting over the blackened lumps should have given it away... I'm kidding. I am. But you know what alarmist bananas are, going from Spring Green to Diseased Bumblebee overnight. Since there was still yellow visible, I thought they were doing okay. But, blech, you can smell and taste the over-overripeness of them in the cake. It's actually bitter. Very disappointing.

Anyhow, this unnatural desire to clean and tidy up (yes, I even picked up the sock petrifying on the floor; no, I did not make the bed), to be an admirable and organized homemaker, all these weird feelings will mercifully dissipate, most likely by tomorrow. Or now.

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Tanabata

A few weeks ago, all over Tokyo, leafy bamboo branches festooned with paper wishes began appearing in public places for Tanabata, or the Star Festival. This special day all began with a Chinese legend about a girl called Vega, whose only fault was that she was a little too into her weaving. In a rather weird unfatherly move, Vega's dad actually got worried about his daughter and hooked her up with a cowherder named Altair, another workaholic. But the two crazy kids took one look at each other and promptly forgot all about cows and weaving. Which you'd think would make Dad happy, right? Sigh. Suddenly there was too much lovin' going on and not enough weaving and herding. And that made Dad mad.

So he separated the two youngsters by a deep river (a river that could possibly have been the Milky Way, and these characters may have been celestial beings, but as is the case with legends, who knows?) and only let them meet once a year, which has since become the day of Tanabata. Talk about cruel and unjust. I mean, whose idea was it in the first place to play matchmaker?

Anyhow, originally, people would hang little colored strips of paper on bamboo branches, praying that it would not rain, because if it did, the river would flood and Altair and Vega wouldn't be able to meet. Well, time passed and people seemed to forget about the lovers and started hanging up their own personal requests instead. From what I can tell, this seems to have evolved into something of an event for children, who write their wishes on hand-made paper decorations and fasten them to a communal bamboo branch.

In our park, the most common wishes came from the more career-minded toddlers--"I want to become a lawyer," wrote one. Another child seemed to have his or her heart set on becoming a dango, which is essentially a ball of pounded glutinous rice. A third child asked to be allowed to eat limitless amounts of ice cream--good one.

There are different ways of celebrating Tanabata in different regions of Japan. In some areas, there are large festivals in the streets. Some people even end the day by throwing the decorated bamboo bough into the river, in the hope that any bad luck will be swept away by the water.

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Hidden Depths

Is this not the most homely plum (yes, that's what you're looking at) you've ever laid eyes on? For the first two years that I was in Japan, these ugly little dudes received nothing but quick, disparaging glances from me before I toted my shopping basket to prettier produce pastures. But finally, frugality overpowered my shameful skin-color prejudice, and I ungraciously decided to give the soldam plum a chance. In all fairness to myself, when I tried to find out the English name for this fruit (in Japanese, it is pronounced so-ru-dum) through Google image search, the few results that bore a close resemblance took me to articles on plum disease. Seriously!

But that day a year ago, when I bought my first pack of soldams, it took only one bite to win me over. Not, in truth, because of the flavor but because of this:


I assure you that the real thing is even more stunning. I couldn't believe the lushly colored flesh that had been hiding beneath that grungy, mottled exterior. It was such a fun, lovely discovery that I slowly devoured the rest of the fruit with my eyes almost crossed, concentrating more on the jeweled hues than the actual flavor.

Truthfully, there's nothing extraordinary about the taste of the soldam plum: a sour skin and the usual sweet plummy interior. I mean, it is nice and juicy and all, but really I buy it for the fun factor. I don't know why I should be so dazzled, but it seems my head is easily turned by showy little flashes of scarlet and tropical punch. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm a total sucker for garishly colored foods--seasonal Oreos, kueh lapis, blazing yellow turmeric rice. Natural or chemical, there is a place in my heart for them all.

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Reassessment

I received such nice, bolstering comments in my last post--thanks, you guys! Hearing from you really made me feel better. But I'm beginning to think that perhaps Oxfam is not for me.

I know the overall response was "Don't be too hard on yourself," but the truth is that I'm really not. I'm much too easy on myself most of the time, which is why I live an extremely carefree life--a life that I do love. But it's a selfishly wonderful existence, and when I'm not savoring it or wondering with dread how long happiness can stretch uninterrupted, I know it's not right.

I didn't explain myself well in the previous post however. The reason I felt so down about my unwanted forum was not so much a matter of putting all my eggs in one basket--rather, the forum was the only egg I had in the basket. I did also try to help out with public relations--an area I was told could do with more people--but I have no experience in PR and I was not exactly stunned when my attempts to contact the Japanese media were flatly ignored. The bald fact of the matter is that now that my forum idea has crashed, I cannot think of a single way to contribute any further. I've mentioned to the volunteers that I'd be willing to offer my assistance to anyone who needs it, but the Oxfam volunteers are a competent, rather independent bunch. Everyone is encouraged to create their own projects, and it is nobody's fault but my own that I find myself floundering.

And realistically, even if the forum had gotten a positive response, it wouldn't have required that much more effort on my part to develop it and keep it running. It wouldn't have required a huge, long-term commitment on my part.

So I guess I'm a little too...er...uninspired to be a part of the Oxfam Japan family. I need a more structured, less solitary environment (and maybe a touch of feverish desperation for help, any help, on the part of the organization). I'm certain there's something out there! There must be loads of opportunities in a city the size of Tokyo.

Plus, I never really got my feet wet, so being a quitter easing out of Oxfam and taking my rather unvaluable self elsewhere surely won't be too hard. There, I've talked myself into--or, rather, out of--it.

Back to square one.

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Sob Story

On the volunteering front, though the last time I wrote I'd been feeling optimistic, my fledgling hope has since been kicked to the curb. For a while, I'd been happily challenged with my bulletin board project, confident that an online forum was exactly what the volunteers at Oxfam Japan needed to unite our scattered troops--weeks after joining, most of the volunteers out there remain silent faceless figures, doing their independent thing. Which of course is great. I mean, sure, I read The Power of One when I was a young lass and had, then, felt ready to take on the world single-handedly (and to also take up boxing on the side). But now, fully entrenched in stodgy-hearted adulthood, I'm more inclined toward The Power of More-Than-One, especially when the goal is to make a significant difference.

Unfortunately--or fortunately, as most people would likely agree--it would seem that Oxfam Japan only has one uninspired sap who needs the crutch of others to accomplish anything. My online bulletin board has not met with much enthusiasm. While I’ve been imagining long, active threads where we volunteers would exchange ideas, offer feedback and criticisms, and get motivated, the reality is that my fellow volunteers have been doing just fine without any help; while I've been dithering about online, everyone else has been out there, getting real things done.

Sorry if this is a bit whiny, but I feel so discouraged. It seems my initial reaction of doubt about my ability to do much for Oxfam Japan was well founded. I was right: I lack the necessary qualities for this particular environment.

I’ve always been a background support kind of girl. I adored singing in the choir but performing solos made me nauseated. When our drama class did a production, I was in the sound effects department, not up there on stage. Though I’m too proud (and foolishly so) to be a follower, I’ve never had the heart of a leader. I hate giving orders as much as I hate being ordered, and I'd be a hopeless, floppy mess if I tried to gather people together for a rousing rally or fundraiser. So when I came upon the idea of a bulletin board, I felt charged with a real purpose. I thought I could do something that, if not loud and proud, might at least have indirect, long-term benefits.

When I check in on my message board from time to time, the lack of response from the other volunteers feels like a personal failure. In some ways, volunteering can be more intimidating than any regular job, because you are offering your self on a fundamental level for something more important than personal satisfaction or gain. You’re forced to ask yourself: What is my value? What can I do for a community, for a human being, for an organization that needs help?

I may not have initiative or creativity, but—at the risk of sounding like I’m at my first job interview—I’m a hard worker. I feel like somewhere very close by, parallel to my own path is a whole other road that I should be on, doing something more, giving something more of my self. And I would, if only I could find the connecting lane. Sometimes I get so wound up because it feels like every second I spend living is wasted. Some people depend upon religion to give them the reassurance that there is more to life, more than life. I’ve never cared or worried about what comes after. For me, only life now matters and we are free to use it or let it be snatched out of our hands like litter dangled out of a speeding car’s window. I guess this kind of thinking could lead to insanity. But anyone who’s read my blog long enough probably can tell, this restlessness and dissatisfaction sweeps in and out of my life--self preservation, I guess. Because at the core, I'm essentially a selfish person. Don't ever let these little blips of conscience make you think otherwise.

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Life's Little Updates

Wow, so many things to share, all of them trivial or mundane, but I'll write about them anyway--because when have I ever let the inconsequential quality of my life stop me from blabbing endlessly about it?

In no order of importance, since none of them hold any:

• I actually baked the fruitcakes I'd vowed to bake and write about months ago. But, I never got around to the "writing about it" part because this suddenly transformed into something I should do, like homework, which instantly made all desire to record my Fruitcake Odyssey vanish. Poof. Gone. Anyhow, due in part to my painstaking preparation of the various ingredients, the cakes were absolutely scrumptious, straight hot out of the oven. But, contrary to my understanding of the logistics of fruitcakes, they seem to have deteriorated over time, rather than aged and improved. What's going on? In a word: overboozed. I just did what everyone told me to do--a spoonful of liquor dribbled over the wrapped cakes every few weeks. Now, some six months of brandy basting later, taking a bite of my fruitcake makes me feel like a firebreather in training. I am literally transformed into a leaky and hazardous gas stove, and am certain that if a match were lit near my mouth, my whole head might ignite or possibly implode. I feel a bit sad. All that time invested and hope culminated...



• I finally caved and bought the long-coveted Soie, to rid my forearms of "those unsightly hairs." I'm not a beast or anything, but there's just enough hair there that I've been bugged by it for quite some time. Sorry, is this rather personal topic making you uncomfortable? I grew up in a family that thrived on inappropriate discussions, with bonus points if you brought up offensive subjects at the dinner table. Anyhow, Soie is a handy little electric hair plucker--yes, you know you want to know more--with a special head that simultaneously applies pressure to the skin as it yanks hair, supposedly to minimalize pain. I suppose it's true what they say, that having a hair plucked feels like an ant bite. Except it's not really comparable because using an electric epilator is really more like have a little contingent of ants steadily nipping their way across a large expanse of your skin--remember when Barbarella found herself overpowered by those jaw-snapping dolls? Or am I thinking about the dainty little pecking birds? Too long ago. Anyhow, the user manual claims the pain will reduce over time. Perhaps the nerve endings, after extended attack, eventually break down and die. Whatever. The important thing is that my arms are now silky smooth. And I'm totally weirded out by this. Have you ever worn braces? Well, looking at my now hairless arms reminds me of the day I got my braces removed after three years of having a metallic grin. My reaction then had been one of utter dismay, for I'd transformed from Jaws into Rocky, but without the annoying squirrel cuteness. My teeth looked gigantic, overexposed; I refused to smile for days. Well, I'm not going to hide foolishly behind long sleeves, but my arms so do not look right.
  
  Soie actually comes with a smaller epilator for removing hair down there--no, not your legs. I don't think I should be embarrassed to admit that the thought of trying it out makes me want to flail and shriek like a big scaredy girl. I wonder what women think after having a Brazillian wax for the first time. I bet the shock factor of all that southern exposure would be double that of naked teeth or arms.

Oh dear, so many updates not yet recorded, but morning has arrived, and I actually have to wake up in a few hours at the ungodly hour of 9am to go to the office. So I shall continue with my stories tomorrow, if possible. I'm really going to try to write more regularly from now on.

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Star Wars, Episode III

This weekend I saw "Star Wars, Episode III." Didn't really want to. Would've rather watched "Batman Begins"--no, not because I want to stare at Christian Bale. I happen to think the story sounds very... Hey, look, there's no shame in wanting to stare at Christian Bale. In addition, Roger Ebert wrote, "This is at last the Batman movie I've been waiting for... Bale is just right for this emerging version of Batman. It's strange to see him muscular and toned,...but he suggests an inward quality that suits the character." I trust Roger's judgment. Roger and I are always in perfect accord--though admittedly "strange" is not the first adjective that comes to mind in conjunction with a "muscular and toned" Christian Bale.

My husband, however, is a huge fan of "Star Wars"--due in part to the portion of his childhood in Portugal when the only thing he could watch and understand on TV were the family's "Star Wars" videos--and so the decision was made.

I admit that I really liked the old "Star Wars" trilogy, with Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher. They were plain good, adventuresome fun. Unfortunately, the most recent two episodes left me disappointed for the reasons everyone has already complained about (took itself too seriously, too much reliance on computer graphics, shallow characterization, etc.). But what aggravated me the most was the sulky, mumbling West Coast teenager, who we were expected to believe, in a single episode, was suddenly going to start articulating like James Earl Jones. I know Anakin was supposed to be young, but why did they have to cast someone who looked like any minute he was going to stomp his foot in a hissy fit before taking off on his skateboard?

I figure that anyone who really cares about this movie must surely have seen it by now, but just in case: spoilers coming up.

To be fair, "Episode III" was definitely the best of the new trilogy. Though I wonder if my judgment was slightly softened by a sense of sentimentalism (it doesn't take much; I'm a sentimental sap) that the movie stirred, especially at the end, when you see the two babies in their new adoptive homes. I also thought Ewan McGregor did a good job as the gentle Obi-Wan, and his confrontation with Anakin at the end of the movie was rather moving (no, no, not the cutting off of limbs part, but the "You were like a brother to me. I loved you." part.).

This time round, I was most exasperated by Natalie Portman's character: a dithering, tearful girl, perpetually distraught in uncomfortable-looking nighties. I have no idea what the point was of making her a senator. Well, "A young, powerful Jedi knight and a wimpy crybaby" doesn't have quite the same impact as "wimpy crybaby senator." Since her only purpose seemed to be that of mothering Anakin's kids, I guess she had to be a good little broodmare with strong lineage.

Anakin was no slouch in the annoying department, but, on top of it all (quite literally), he was also sporting a maddening hairdo. I know this may seem like a ridiculous thing to zero in on, but in a movie that paid so much attention to detail, what was the deal with Anakin's long hair being all limp and plastered to the back of his head? I kept hoping a good, stiff intergalactic breeze would come along and fluff it up a bit. But no go. Needless to say, it was a distraction.

All those petty details aside, what baffled me the most about Episode III was Anakin's abrupt leap from "Must save my darling Padme!" to "I want to rule the universe!" It was a total huh moment for me, and made his transformation into Darth Vader that much more unnatural. What the heck was he so angry about anyway? I wish the character was given more reason for having all this supposed darkness inside, or at least given more chance to exhibit said darkness, rather than what appeared to be nothing more than teen angst.

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Can't Help Myself

I just wrote a post trying to stand up a little bit for Blogger, but here I am, back again at the bitching post. I know I shouldn't even be using Blogger's spell check to begin with, but I do. Oh, stop looking at the screen incredulously. Anyhow, what I wanted to ask is: Why doesn't the spell checker for Blogger recognize the words blog and Blogger, for Pete's sake? And for that matter, who was Pete? What kind of man was he, that his name is now interchangeable with god, goodness, and heaven?

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How to Create a Message Board (For the Clueless, From the Clueless)

Poor Blogger--I'm sure there isn't an online service out there more simultaneously maligned and employed to such a comparable degree. Even I have been guilty of bitching about Blogger with one hand while posting on it with the other. And it's inexcusable. Well, maybe a little excusable, when things go horribly, horribly wrong, as they are wont to do on Blogger from time to time--look at me, already doing it again, bitching.

But when have I ever sung Blogger's praises? When did I ever express my appreciation for how easy it made setting up a blog? For the exhaustive list of tips and tutorials under Blogger Help? For the unlimited space offered. And back again to just how gosh-darn easy it is to use? When? Never!

And I'm not alone. Blogger has been slandered, abandoned, and taken for granted, and frankly, I believed the abuse to be justified. Until this past week, when I tried to create a message board for my volunteer group. Holy buffet of deep-fried crap, Batman! Have you ever tried to create an online forum? Have you?! Well, I thought--I do not know why--that it would be easy. I thought, hey, I can change the background color of my blog, I sure as hell can put up one dinky little bulletin board. That is what I thought. And that is what I volunteered to do.

As any good little Internet child will do, I started my project with lots of searches. Lesson one: creating a board sometimes requires the forking over of money. I refined my search with the addition of "free." Lesson two: most free boards do not mention, while urging you to register with them, that they will foist garish banners and even pop-up ads on your board. I further redefined my search: "no ads." Initially, a no-ads board seemed an impossible concept. Many supposedly ad-free boards had apparently caved. Finally I came upon one that required only the use of text ads--Forumer.

This is when the first challenge presented itself: phpBB or IPB? Huh? Back I went to Google. I'm a pragmatic girl, however. I didn't really need to know what these two types of boards were; I just needed to know which one was better. What did I learn? After much time lurking around places like anime forums, I learned this: no consensus. But, what repeatedly came up was that phpBB was "user friendly" and IPB had more advanced features. What was obviously yoohooing me in the face was that phpBB was for me and IPB was for people who actually knew how to use words like SQL, BBCodes, safe mode skins, and permission masks (I still don't know what any of these things are, but as administrator of a forum, I think I'm supposed to). But because I love to waffle and add unnecessary stress to my life, I had to give both a chance--"Because what if I go with the easy one, then become this total Message Board Master down the road, and realize I missed out by not going with IPB?" With all the wisdom hindsight doth bestow, verily I say, "Message Board Master? Bwahahahaha!"

So I signed up for one of each: phpBB (BB stands for bulletin board, and that's all you need to know) and IPB (Invision Power Board). This is where, although blog and bulletin board are distinctly different animals, I cannot help but draw comparisons between the services. With Blogger, seconds after I had my own blog, I was posting; and not long after, I was happily exploring, playing with my template, getting useful tips from the Blogger Help pages. Registering with, say, Forumer happened relatively quickly, but once the page opened and I was faced with my brand-new board, I ran smack into a big fat blank. I spent one full evening trying to figure out the Admin CP (administration control panel)--it took me ages just to figure out that it was the Admin CP I needed to figure out--for my Invision board. During this time, I came as close as I've ever come to wanting to snatch my head bald from sheer rage and frustration. I can now empathize with those pet parrots who rip out all their feathers and require therapy sessions with an animal shrink. Anyhow, I really did try. And then I gave up.

On to Forumer's phpBB. This was supposed to be the easy one. It also turned out to be the extremely limited one. Another evening went by, and just as my deranged state had my fingers once again inching their way ominously toward my vulnerable mane, I happened upon something. Something called FreeBB. With its childish logo communicating this was closer to my level of [cough] expertise [cough], the promise of an idiot-friendly control panel, and no ads to boot, this time I did not ignore the yoohooing voices. With about four (or five? I've lost track) bulletin boards somewhere out there, registered in my name, what was one more?

Like all the others, FreeBB has no help documentation. You're not going to find a page that says something like, "So, you've got yourself a bulletin board. Lost? Confused? Don't worry, keep reading and we'll tell you, step-by-step, exactly how to set up your board!" However, after a bit of experimenting, I was able to add categories, change the template of my board, and even adjust the colors to match the Oxfam website. If you're curious as to what even an idiot can produce through FreeBB, here's the board I created. Now I just have to convince my fellow volunteers at Oxfam Japan to use the damn thing. They're a bit shy--or that's what I'm telling myself about all the participation that's not going on so far.

The sole form of support for bulletin board administrators are the member forums, so my advice to fellow newbies is to take advantage of them, but try not to wail and use lots of exclamation marks, even when you're at the end of your tether. I can't believe how many people write as the subject title: "Heeeeeeelp Meeeeee!!!!!!!!" Yeesh. Oh, one thing I wish somebody had explained to me: Registering for your own message board doesn't automatically register you for the connected support forum; you have to register separately for this. I couldn't understand why I couldn't sign in to the support forum with my board's user name. You have to create a separate user name--rather lame, if you ask me.

One other important thing to keep in mind. I did find that Invision board forums were not for the new and ignorant. As I said before, the people who use Invision know what they're doing and they expect you to as well.

I realize this post won't interest many people, but since I wasted invested so much time learning about the creation of message boards, I'll offer what limited resources I gathered, and hopefully someone, as clueless as I, will get something out of it.


Free Bulletin Boards
FreeBB
-this is the only free bulletin board I found that is 100% free of any kind of ads
-hands-down the easiest board to work with, of all the different boards I tried
-being fairly new, the support forum is still quite small, but people are quick to respond

CE7.net
-offers boards powered by phpBB 2.0.16 and IPB 1.3
Pros: text-only ads
Cons: no support forum

Forumer
-phpBB 2 and IPB 1.3
Pros:
-text-only ads
-promising to upgrade to phpBB 3 "some day"
-good support forum
Cons: phpBB board not customizable

InvisionFree
-well-established support forum

Additional Resources
phpBB - downloads, mods (same as hacks?), styles, templates, and support forum
phpBB Hacks - hacks, templates, downloads, and support forums

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