Happy Anniversary Blog-gy, Got You On My.... Mi-hind

With apologies to the Little River Band, one of the more underrated bands of the 70s, this day marks Bloggy's first anniversary. My, how time flies. It was one year ago that I started this online extrapolation and fundamentally changed the lives of all three of my readers. (Just kidding. I think I have something like six readers now.) I want to wish Bloggy a very happy first anniversary (Oh yeah, you can expect some HOT lovemaking tonight, Bloggy). And for you, dear Reader, who have come aboard and stuck with me this past year, I wish to relate a few blog-related observations, based on my first year of blogging.

1. I really love to hear, read, write, discuss, re-read, think about, and obsess about my own opinions. Sure, maybe you're all sick of hearing what I think, maybe you all need a few weeks off from me, but no matter. I just LOVE venting, getting it all out, flexing my opinion muscle, and exercising my free speech. It's not only cathartic when it's happening, but if I'm having a crappy day, my opinions are always there to lift me up and make me feel better. All I need to do is log on to Bloggy and start reading a few entries. Over and over. Ahhhhh. Like a warm bath. Sigh. My opinions.

2. Most commenters respond to my discussions about personal shit, rather than my opinions about global shit. Okay, that first thing on the list was a little tongue-in-cheek. Fact is, I like getting comments from people. Makes me feel a little less like Tom Hanks in Castaway. I've come to learn that comments make this a far more enjoyable and interactive experience, which is one reason I do this. If a tree falls in the forest, blah, blah, etc. I've noticed that if I get any responsive comments at all, they are usually in response to a personal story rather than an opinion about world events or grandstanding about some sporting event. Could it be that no one gives a rat's patootie about my views regarding the latter two subjects? Could it be that people prefer a salacious diary to an opinionated rant, or sports-related taunting? Mmmm, quite possibly. But my original intent with this blog was to keep it engaged with current events and not just have it turn into an online diary, as fun as that would be. There are other problems with the diary angle. If I really wanted to go that way, I would have to reveal much more personal information, which I cannot do for the reasons stated in Item #3.

3. I really envy the anonymous bloggers. Some of the best blogs that I read are the anonymous ones, the ones where incognito bloggers go into detail, sometimes graphic detail, about their sex lives, fantasies, drug experiences, enemies, and dysfunctional lives. Dang, that makes for good readin'! When people don't know who you are, you can really be free to write whatever the hell you want and reveal as much as you want, without fear of social embarrassment or economic repercussions, i.e. getting fired. When you are semi-anonymous, however, as I am, and you've got family, friends, co-workers, etc. who read what you write, you must take pains to decide how much, and what, to reveal. Alas, self-censorship, no matter how tepid, really sucks. That's probably been the biggest downer of this blogging thing for me. There's a lot more I'd like to write but can't. I've thought of starting another, anonymous blog, but I have only so much time available, and it's been difficult enough to keep regular posts going here. But I may still do it, we'll see.

4. Donde estan los psychos? You know, on occasion, I rant some pretty liberal crapola. I really thought I would get more psycho-fascists responding to it and maybe even a stalker or two. Preferably a rabid right-winger who looks just like Sarah Shahi. I figured there were more lowlifes out there scouring the 'Net, ready to bite at the slightest provocation. But they haven't come. The worst thing I got was an email from a gay guy in Texas who took my entry about Dana Perino in entirely the wrong way. I'm not complaining, I'm just a little surprised. Guess I'm too small potatoes or just not radical enough. Fine with me.

5. My Luddite parents have not read a single entry I've written. This is a two-edged sword. On the one hand, they don't really need to know my business, and if I feel like raising a ruckus with them, I can easily do so over the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, or on one of their respective birthdays, when I sometimes venture back to the Shire. On the other hand, there is the little kid in me that would like my parents to partake of this and perhaps drop an occasional comment. It's not that they don't have a computer. Sister T., Sister J., and I bought them a laptop two years ago for Christmas. Not that they know how to use it.

No, the problem here is Dad's too fucking cheap to spring for broadband. So the dust-ridden laptop sits on the corner of the bar in the downstairs living room, tethered to the telephone like a useless appendage. Now to be fair, Dad did take advantage of that elusive, free trial AOL CD for awhile. You know, the CDs AOL sprayed around like confetti about five years ago. I must have gotten ten of those damn things every week in my mailbox. I even found one in my underwear drawer. How the hell did they get in there???

I'll bet you didn't think anyone actually used them, did you? Oh, but you're wrong. My father did. And for three precious months (or was it six?) in 2005, he had himself some free Internets. Via dialup. DIALUP. Anyone with a working knowledge of a remote control knows that loading a page by dialup takes away three years of your life. Most people don't have the patience to wait for it and quickly break down and get DSL or broadband without thinking twice. Not my father. He used the trial CD then got AOL for a year, paying more than he would if he got DSL. Brilliant, no? Then he cut it off entirely, no longer willing to spend the $24.95 a month for useless dialup. So for two years, every time I went back to the Shire, it was like stepping into a timewarp, back to 1994. "What is this Internet thing everyone's talking about?" Frigging annoying. After three days of no Internet access, I start getting the delirium tremens and need to get my ass back to New York.

So no, my parents haven't read any of this. Maybe it's for the best.

And with that, we now move on to Year 2. My thanks to you, readers, for playing along. : )