I got this comment on my last personal post and it actually got me to thinking. What the hell is there to talk about?Life is hard. And tiring. And me not being the most verbal of people does kind of make for some rather staid blog commentary. There’s no need to apologize, I know, but it’s pretty much true.
A lot of times I have things on my mind, but I have this incessant need to make the stories cohesive…literate…perfect. So before it gets to the cyber-page, it goes though various mental committees that may or may not agree on content or context.
All this while you are waiting to hear me tell you how fun it was to clean my bathroom.
When I got this comment, I decided to look around blogland and see what other people are posting. What I discovered is that what I’m doing is pretty much the same as what they’re doing. Nobody really has anything to talk about. I’m sure it’s a national epidemic.
I mean, think about it: When you call your friends up on the phone, or IM them or whatever, doesn’t it usually go something like:
“What’s up?”
“Not much. You?”
“Nothing much going on here.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
See, on the phone, you can say shit like “Let’s go to a bar or something” or the mall or the sheep farm or wherever people go these days, and pretty much forget how empty our lives are. All I got here is “Hey check out this article I found.” Or “This is my boring ass life. Care to comment?” The dynamic isn’t the same as a conversation.
In a conversation, you can go onto all sorts of great tangents, whereas here, if you guys don’t comment, and I don’t push it along, then it just kind of dies, no matter how good the idea started out.
I’m a single guy who lives in a little room in my parents’ house in the middle of nowhere. I don’t have a steady girlfriend, or drinking buddies, or any dramatic problems. I like clothes, malls, history, food, and politics (though I’m smart enough not to post anything about that on here) among other things. I work in a windowless municipal office in the basement of a big building in a small city where not a lot goes on. The stories don’t exactly roll, my friends, no matter how I try.
So obviously, I know I’m pretty boring.
What doesn’t help is comments like the title, however droll or, conversely, based out of real frustration at content they may be. Anonymous could be anybody, so I can’t talk it out with him or her to see what anybody actually thinks and how I can improve. I got nothing but hurt feelings from that because it’s a rock thrown through my picture window in the dark, which is pretty punk-ass if you ask me.
This didn’t start as a rant about how trolls can ruin your day. But a troll did ruin my day, and you should have seen the comment I deleted that really pissed me off. I’m not even going to talk about that one.
I had to get that off my chest.
This post is going to be closed to comments because I really don’t give a fuck what people are thinking right now. You wanna talk? I got an email address. Do me a favor and at least hurl your rocks with a note.
I’ll be better tomorrow.
