No matter how witty it sounds at 5:05, i assure you that when you get home past midnight you no longer want to blog about it.
Also, someone should eventually teach me how to flirt, and how to keep my big dumb mouth shut.
Goodnight.
meta
Just so you don’t get the idea that this whole blogging thing is an exercise in spontaneity: i scrapped three different posts before deciding on that one, and i had to consult a dictionary five times for spelling and meaning while writing it. I don’t know if that makes me more or less of a geek, though…
I am blogging from my home computer.
I am blogging from a DSL connection.
I am blogging while streaming my favourite Peter Mulvey song. In surround sound.
I do believe my technological life just experienced a much-deserved upgrade.
Improvements to my personal life still forthcoming…
I sure can say a lot while avoiding saying what’s on my mind.
I figure if i keep interspersing these short ones, the longer ones won’t seem so bad ;)
I could just keep writing.
Do you remember when it used to be like that? Just me and the computer, and no obsessiveness about readability or narrative voice or spacing out my posts? Just me and my unending stream of consciousness? It’s so different now… now i am worried that this will mean that you’re not reading the things i spent time on. Quality. I never used to have a concept of quality, just a concept of what i wanted to say. Now i let posts languish on the main page for a day at a time to make sure it’s good and read before the next one arrives — i want to increase the signal and decrease the noise. But, it doesn’t feel anything like i remember. Nothing like it at all.
How did i manage to forget what i wanted to say? Now writing an update every fifteen minutes, or even on the hour … it seems like insanity. I can type a lot of words in fifteen minutes, and i can hit publish a lot of times in an hour. I suppose i’m afraid that it’s not the sheer me of the writing that is interesting, but the time and careful effort that i put into it. I have become afraid to just say what i think. The crux of the matter is that i am looking for a different kind of recognition now, one that is very intrinsically linked to quality rather than to quantity. Only, maybe there was some quality to it, you know? Something right about just writing until i ran out of thoughts of things to say.
I don’t really remember what my life was like fifteen months ago; i can’t remember how it felt day to day. But, the words are all there, to prove that it happened. So, i suppose i just want to prove that this is happening, you know?