My life is interfering with my blogging.
It’s bad enough I’ve moved my site off Blogger. I don’t get the drive-by’s that I used to through the “Next Blog” button. I’m not sure if I ever made any new bloggin’ buddies that way anyway. Well, maybe I found bloggin’ buddies that way, but nobody ever found me and made me one of their bloggin’ buddies. But at least it pumped up the traffic a little. When I think someone is reading it makes me feel better somehow, although God knows why it makes any difference.
That’s bad enough, but then I have to go and write political stuff half the time, and I guess I know that turns a lot of people off. There may at one time have been conservative readers who were just friendly and curious about my thoughts and my soft-core pornography, but I must have pissed them off and sent them packing long ago. I have no good way to keep track of this kind of thing, of course, so all this is in my mind anyway, but in my mind I am rocking softly in a corner, alone and afraid.
I have been alienated in my real life lately. My job, usually known here as “my crummy job,” has taken so many turns for the worse that I just wouldn’t even know how to explain it in writing, not in anything less than 300 pages. As I’ve probably written here before, it’s just a job I fell into, not a career that I sought. I’ve never been proud of it, but as I keep doing it longer, I have come to resent it. I’m surly with most of my coworkers. Sure, they’re stupid and flaky, for the most part, but they’re just as exploited as I am, so why not be nice to them? Every Monday morning I make some kind of resolution to be more cheerful there, help people when I can, keep it light, but by noon I have turned evil again and I just can’t shake the badness. I need to manufacture a better attitude, but I keep thinking “I hate this place, I hate this place, I hate this place…” and that just overwhelms my good intentions.
And while I am there, making the big bucks, developing ulcers and high blood pressure (maybe), what might have been Real Life is taking place somewhere else, some place where I am not. I am not wearing Dockers in a happy pizza joint with my friends, I’m not driving my new Cadillac and playing basketball, I’m not watching the leaves change in New England in autumn, I’m not playing guitar anywhere, not in a studio, a garage, a bar, not anywhere; I’m not stalking Gwyneth Paltrow or snorkeling in Hanauma Bay, and I’m not keeping up with my blog.
I’ve had a web site since before there were blogs. As soon as such a thing was possible I did it. i sensed that somehow it would be a way to connect with the world in a bigger way than I could do in person, and at the same time in a more intimate way. When I started this blog 19 months ago, I actually began to “meet” people. It was somewhat interactive, but low-key and non-threatening. For the record, I have never felt threatened. I mean it must have been non-threatening to others, because of the anonymity, which is kind of strange because so many of us reveal so much about ourselves in these posts.
But I have become a Bad Blogger. I write once a week or less, and at least half of that is outraged political ranting, which no one wants to read. I don’t get around to comment on others’ blogs, either. So I’ve kind of dropped out.
But so have a lot of my early bloggin’ buddies. I went back through some of my archives yesterday, and let me tell you it was a nostalgic trip. Nineteen months and already nostalgic. Huh.
The nostalgic thing was reading the comments of people who are no longer around. I mean no longer blogging, or no longer in my circle of friends. Maybe they got tired of blogs, or tired of me. I didn’t believe blogging was a fad, like CB radio, but maybe it was. It was geeky enough when “everybody” was doing it. How much of a dork will I be when I’m still writing here and everybody else has moved on?
Anyway, I miss those people whom I never actually met. Adrian, Melissa, Holly, MPH, Red, Kayten, that hispanic chick in Denver, all the rest – you know who you are.
What the fuck. I have issues. Are you saying you don’t?