Blog Falling In the Forest
So I unveiled my preciousss at work today. To my mild surprise (dismay? subconscious expectation?), the public reaction was less Hollywood premiere and more suitable for Al Bundy's Alante.
Me: Hey hey. I am making a blog!
(pause in IMing. I better provide a better lead-in)
Me: Do you have one?
Vivvles: No.
(even longer pause. Abort! Abort!)
Me: Isn't IMing in italics so classy?
Vivvles: Classy isn't the first thing that comes to mind.
Hmm. Perhaps interest was best generated in person.
Me (i'm floatin' on sunshine, whoa-oh, gonna feel good!): Hey check out my new project!
DarDarBinx (...bait him): What is that?
Me (beaming): It's my blog.
DarDarBinx (...go in for the kill): Why do you have it?
Me (overcast): Um, to write in it.
DarDarBinx (...finish him!): Who's gonna leave you comments?
Me (dark and stormy night): Um, I write for myself.
I wonder if the Bay Bridge guy is still filming jumpers...
But you see, this fine enthusiastically delighted, open-arm reception of FA (Fun Alley, to the uninitiated) oh-so-gingerly scooted me to the realization that this blog may never make it to another person's computer screen. Does the new age equivalent of a tree falling in a forest when no one's around make a noise? What impact do I, my 999 monkeys, and 1000 keyboards have in churning out supposedly "public" journals for all the world to see? In fact, is it even public if no one knows about it?
I pondered this all day and realized that this is further supporting evidence of my Everyone Is Talking To Themselves theory. This Eureka moment freed up my brain resources and I was able to reallocate focus to ancillary activities such as breathing, eating, and occasional thinking.
What is this EITTT theory you ask? (you = imaginary reader). Tune in next time cuz I got me a BART to catch.
Me: Hey hey. I am making a blog!
(pause in IMing. I better provide a better lead-in)
Me: Do you have one?
Vivvles: No.
(even longer pause. Abort! Abort!)
Me: Isn't IMing in italics so classy?
Vivvles: Classy isn't the first thing that comes to mind.
Hmm. Perhaps interest was best generated in person.
Me (i'm floatin' on sunshine, whoa-oh, gonna feel good!): Hey check out my new project!
DarDarBinx (...bait him): What is that?
Me (beaming): It's my blog.
DarDarBinx (...go in for the kill): Why do you have it?
Me (overcast): Um, to write in it.
DarDarBinx (...finish him!): Who's gonna leave you comments?
Me (dark and stormy night): Um, I write for myself.
I wonder if the Bay Bridge guy is still filming jumpers...
But you see, this fine enthusiastically delighted, open-arm reception of FA (Fun Alley, to the uninitiated) oh-so-gingerly scooted me to the realization that this blog may never make it to another person's computer screen. Does the new age equivalent of a tree falling in a forest when no one's around make a noise? What impact do I, my 999 monkeys, and 1000 keyboards have in churning out supposedly "public" journals for all the world to see? In fact, is it even public if no one knows about it?
I pondered this all day and realized that this is further supporting evidence of my Everyone Is Talking To Themselves theory. This Eureka moment freed up my brain resources and I was able to reallocate focus to ancillary activities such as breathing, eating, and occasional thinking.
What is this EITTT theory you ask? (you = imaginary reader). Tune in next time cuz I got me a BART to catch.
posted by dodger | 6:10 PM
2 Comments:
Hey Hey Hey! Your very first comment! Exciting, isn't it? Okay, maybe not, but at least you know someone's been here....and actually read it! By the way, you're writing style is awesome! Totally entertaining! Keep it up and I may return! (thrilling, i know)
Hello from Georgia.
You're a funny writer, and I was glad to see that somebody recognizes the sublime dorkiness of starting one of these things at all.
Most blogs sort of remind me of Emily Dickinson's worst poem -- "This is my letter to the world/ that never wrote to me.."
I've got one that I really enjoy -- with five friends in checking in almost every night.
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