Apologies

I feel bad about what this blog has become. Especially after last night's post.

The blog used to be more fun. More funny. Maybe more thoughtful.

Yes, I spent thousands of words bitching about work and bosses, but interspersed were reviews of movies and comics or goofy things I found on the inturdmets. Plenty that was fun. And even when I was deep in my bitching, even when I felt as dark as I feel now, everything had a lighter tone than my posts do.

In part, it's because the vast majority of people migrated away from blogs. Myspace started the destruction or personal blogs, but Twitter and Facebook squashed it completely. People who used to blog several times a week quit blogging. For a time, they still read personal blogs, but eventually they drifted away from even that because it's so much easier to read 140 characters from a bunch of people or it's easier just to look at news-feed -- because it shows everything everyone wrote -- rather than use a feed reader which might force you to click to read a whole post. Away went the 1000 word essay about burning last night's dinner and in came the three word "I burnt dinner" post or worse just a picture of the burnt dinner. At least you get 150 "likes" on the short post/picture rather than the two to five comments your essay got, right?

I'm guilty of slowing down on the blogging, but I never stopped. I think that every month since October 2013 has at least one post. The average monthly posting is about 13 per month. Not perfect, but I'm still around. Mostly because I have to get some things out of me and the only people who come to this blog choose to come to this blog and can choose not to come, too. Sometimes I wish there were more readers so there could be conversations in the comments sections, but I can live without that interaction on my blog.

Interaction was never the reason I liked blogs. I'm not good at doing it and since, on bigger blogs or in message boards, my comments get ignored or trolled down I'm afraid that my comments come off as condescending or rude. What I liked about the personal blogs was seeing people's thinking and reasoning. I liked watching them drift around topics like a feather on the breeze or narrow down like an electron microscope as they wrote. I liked reading the slices of people's lives; it was never just a moment, though, but things leading to the moment and the fallout of that moment, too, because rarely did people blog just one sentence. Even though I wasn't a part of the story, I got to experience it in the unique way that each and every blogger wrote.

Now most blogs tend to be about hyperspecific topics that only interest small groups or regurgitate the new and all for money. Not that any of those things are bad, they just aren't people and the lives they lead.

See, the interesting thing about the personal blog boom, for me, was the drama in daily life. Life isn't a TV show or movie. The story of our day doesn't build to a climax which gets resolved before a denouement and then bedtime. Victory in life is getting through the day. It's the lonely person having a good conversation with a stranger at the coffee shop or the hardworking parent making it home in time to tuck the kids into bed. It's the daily survival of high school by anyone in high school. It's the heavy petting that leaves both parties with blue balls because they're just not ready for the next step. Each day is frustrating and painful and hopeful and sad and angry and happy and everything all lumped into a mess. And that's what all of those personal blogs shared, the mess that we each live and those little moments that add up to life.

I guess that all this is to say that I'm doing my best to stick with the little things in life. Unfortunately, my life is not interesting right now and my only victory is not hurting myself each day. All those little goofy things I used to post now end up of Facebook because that's safe to post there. That's all I can post there.

10 Years

I started this blog 10 years ago. It is a success in that I've been posting for that long. I've never been a popular blog, though. I flirted with huge readship one time when I kept writing about comic books and made sure it related to gender issues in some way, but that wasn't ever what this blog was intended to be. The number of posts is nearly one post every other day, which is pretty good, especially since I don't get paid for writing. Even checking Facebook several times a day hasn't completly stopped me from posting. No regular interwebs connection and sever depression almost stopped, but I eventually came back.

So, yeah, 10 years. If I was someone else I would point you to my favorite posts. I'm too lazy for that, though, and the few that visit probably don't care anyway.

'Splaination

I just realized the ironical bent to the fact that I posted the last post on a public weblog, so I wanted to offer an explanation.

First, I created this blog to write. Write something, anything. Just write. Hence I write about me and myself a lot because I can do that more easily even while spinning 'round the drain.

Second, I know that my blog is really only read by one person. (Hi, bro!) Mostly this site is a brief stop while pressing Blogger's "next" button. So, it is unlikely that someone who is, or isn't, anyone will read what I wrote, no matter what was written.

New Layout

Uh. That's all for now.

Reach for the Stars, Until You Pass Out From Lack Of Atmosphere and Tumble Back to Earth

Gettin' quite a spike in traffic thanks to this post and this link.

It won't last, but it's nice seeing lots of visitors on my Sitemeter stats.

Thanks for stopping by! I'll miss your numbers when you stop visitin'.

Also, favorite Google search, in recent days, that turned up my blog. HA!

New Header Line!

Foreshortening, With the Flavor of Mint!

Version 4.0 or 5.0

Easier on the eyes?

ticknart's away, no messages, please.

Okay, so, I'm done with blogging for a while.

I'll be reading stuff, can't keep away from that, but I won't be writing anything on this blog or at What's Distracting Us for a while. I'm also not planning on writing any comments on any blogs anywhere, like that'd make much of a difference in my commenting these past few weeks.

Be well.

4:50

Wait. It's what time?

Crap.

I'll just remind you that I also, occasionally, along with some other good people, post at What's Distracting Us?, for them what's interested.

My Blogs Personality

From Typealyzer.

ESTP - The Doers

The active and play-ful type. They are especially attuned to people and things around them and often full of energy, talking, joking and engaging in physical out-door activities.

The Doers are happiest with action-filled work which craves their full attention and focus. They might be very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. They might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time.

Membership

As of this morning, I am a proud new contributer to the blog What's Distracting Us?.

As the fearless creator of the blog states:

When working in a medium sized office setting, you tend to share links with your co-workers, and then forget to show your other friends. This is a demonstration of what a recent study claims we spend 25% of our office time doing (while maintaining or even increasing productivity). Our managers, on the other hand, would call them "distractions".

It's pretty ease to see what my main niche will be over there.

Blah-Blogging

It's that time again!

The time when I start questioning why, exactly, I come to this website and write things. Things about stuff. You know, whatever stuff.

I know that at least a fistful (that five, for those who can't count) of people choose to stop by on a nearly daily basis and it's times like these (see the last paragraph) that I can't figure out what makes them come back.

Not that it matters, really.

Besides, after nearly 4 and 5/6th years and nearly 2 and 1/2 score posts from a 8 and 1/3rd gross posts total I think I'm pretty much going to continue blah-blahing about stuff, you know, things, whatever things. Doesn't stop me from wondering why the hell I do it though.

A while ago, I wrote, "I've written much about many different things, but don't know how much I've actually said."

Yeah, that's still pretty much true.

And Now I'm Bored

Oh, sure, I have work that I could be doing and I go on my lunch break in a few minutes, but finishing that last post and getting lost in the car research was pretty much the most entertaining thing I've done today or yesterday.

Ah, well.

In an attempt to ramble on until I actually go on my lunch break I don't know if I'll write anything coherant.

Over at Comics Should Be Good!, a guy wrote about the stereotypical comic fan things he does not enjoy. Part of me really enjoyed reading his list and part of me felt like it was a sort of self-hating fan backlash post. I don't think the guy's self-hating so much as hating those who do fall into the more stereotypical comic fan world and him getting lumped into it just because he likes comics. I kind of get that, but what is it that bothers him so much when it's assumed he likes Star Wars or has read Asimov?

Me? I fall into quite a bit of those comic book stereotypes. I'm cool with that. But I also consider myself more of a pop-culture junkie than just a comic book fan. Give me a TV and a weeks worth of watching time and I'll be able to rattle off way more current pop-culture info than most people could stand. Hell, even I know how unhealthy my pop-culture retention factor can be, that's why I'm not all in peoples' faces about it.

Welp

I couldn't finish the post I was working on before five. Will do so tomorrow, unless I decide to call in sick.

*hugs*

One Song, Glory

I sit and I wonder. I've written on this before because there are times when it just happens: What do I write in my blog?

I don't want to write about my grandpa. There's nothing for me to do with that for me. It just becomes endless chatter that runs in circles because not enough is known.

Do I write about the junk that I want to eat tonight? It's not really something I want to write about, but it could be done.

I could write about how screwed up my internal calendar is because of my trip last week. But that's all I have on that subject.

Iron Man.

Extra sleep.

Dreams.

Something my great uncle told me at Easter that I'm still trying to work through.

GURPS.

Musicals.

Trips for work next month.

Walking.

Phone numbers.

TV anniversary.

Flashes of stories that are hardly ideas but want to become them.

Desire isn't just a crazy girl/boy person. But how does Desire lead to creation when his/her brother is Destruction? Or does it come from Dream? Who can say?

Spoiler's return.

Chuck Dixon.

Final Crisis.

Highlighters.

The crunch.

New car and the financing that goes along with it.

Jessica Jones and the greatness she is in Alias.

Another loss of power. Third time since November. Never happened before.

The numbers assigned to body parts.

The crap that is my work.

Comic Sans.

Blank verse.

"Mending Wall."

Déjà vu.

Dan Jurgens draws the best BG Batgirl, ever.

Bullshit.

New Header Quote!

So we beat off, pistons through a cylinder, locked endelessly without a release.
----F. Shot Fucksgerald
The Great Orgasmby

Non-

The explaining that I told Heels I'd do will not be done, today. We've started the stupid and pointless "project" I mentioned, but never described, today. During this "project" blogging will only happen if I write the night before at my apartment. The odds of that happening are very, very low.

I will try to get that explanation up, Heels, really.

Seems About Right

999

I've once again fallen into bored mode. There's work in my basket that I could be looking though, but tomorrow I'm supposed to take some time training the new SLT on how we process the mail we get each day, which means that I need mail for him to process, and I don't want to process the mail now only to have to show him how to do it tomorrow only to do it for myself again after he's through. The stupidest thing about this training that that he'll never have to do the work that I do. SLTs work for the judges. SLTs do what, in other places, legal secretaries do. SLTs never do the work that I do unless one of us clerks royally fucks up. I'm only going to be working with him for an hour, but it'll be a very wasted hour. It'll be especially wasted because we're not working together until 10:30. My first two hours will be spent pretending to work, but not actually working so he can try and do my work.

Truly, stupidity should be more appreciated. If it was, then sycophants would be able to tell the truth, and it seems to me that more truth is needed in this world.

I'm not sure what else to write right now. I'm sick of writing about work, just sick of work. I don't know if this long weekend will charge my batteries, but it will be nice not being here for a few days.

In the past few months, I've discovered the fun of Stargate: Atlantis. The channel that it's on showed Farscape last year and changed over to this show at the beginning of the season. At first I was upset, but I was also lazy and bored, so I watched the episode. It was fun and it made me laugh. It's not great, but sometimes science fiction doesn't need to be great, just whimsical. I really don't like the character of Ronon; he's like a weaker version of Tyr from Andromeda. (Yes, I can tell the differences in their back story and other ways, but every time Ronon appears on screen I think of how much better Tyr was right from the start while I've seen Ronon each week since September and I still think he's boring.) Still, the occasional appearance by Robert Picardo balances Ronon out. Besides, sometimes you just need a show that features an ancient, floating city with a driving range into the ocean, right?

Blogging vs. Writing

My dear friend, writer of writers, esteemed teller of tales that no one else can tell, beware! Blogging is not writing. It masquerades as such, t’is true. You sit at the desk, your fingers dance their blind and clever dance across the keyboard, words appear upon the screen, and oh, it feels like writing, like the easiest sort of writing, the writing that needs not to be justified on the morrow. It is the writing that makes the idle stupidity of the day something of worth, for has it not been written down, have not readers shared it and responded to it? Have you not been recognized, flattered and preened for today’s bon mot? Is not that what the writer lives for?
                --Robin Hobb, "Vampires of the Internet"

Once upon a time, I thought that I would tell stories for a living. I thought that I'd stir emotions with my words like an Entremetier stirs soup with a spoon. I hoped to make the small part of the world that read my words laugh more than cry and think about the world around them more than they thought about worlds between pages.

At that time, I was only sure of one thing about writers: they write. I wasn't writing. I was going to work. I was watching DVDs. I was doing all sorts of things, but I wasn't writing. Not a thing.

That's when, while visiting with friends, I first learned about blogs. That, I thought, was what I needed so I would write something, anything.

So I started one and then another. I wrote when I wanted and what I wanted. Topics and postings were erratic, but that's okay, I thought, I'm writing.

I had ideas for stories and such, but I didn't put them in my blog. I thought that if I did they wouldn't be mine anymore. Someone else would take them and distort them. I wanted them to be mine.

I quit writing on the other blog. It stopped being fun because it was one that really needed some sort of interaction. One was plenty.

But the blogging had become something other than me writing. It became a place for me to share bits with my friends and family. It stopped being about Me and started being about me. Does that make sense? Maybe it's better stated as: It stopped being about what I wanted to do and became about what I was doing. And as that change happened my desire to become a professional storyteller sort of disappeared.

My blog became closer this paragraph from "Vampires of the Internet":

Ah, my writer friend. It is harsh but it must be said. Compared to the studied seduction of the novel, blogging is literary pole dancing. Anyone can stand naked in the window of the public’s eye, anyone can twitch and writhe and emote over the package that was not delivered, the dinner that burned, the friend who forgot your birthday. That is not fiction. That is life, and we all have one. Blogging condemns us to live everyone else’s tedious day as well as our own.

But I don't think that's a bad thing.

Ms. (or Miss, whatever) Hobb obviously thinks it is.

She seems to think that to blog is to shuck all of our clothing and show our naked bodies to the world. And to be fair a lot of blogs out there are like exhibitionists, getting off by exposing private parts to the world. But what she doesn't (or didn't, when she wrote this thing) understand is that the best blogs out there are closer to a slow, seductive striptease: parts are uncovered laboriously and then partially covered when something new is revealed. The best bloggers don't just whip out the naughty/exciting bits, they entice us with glimpses and slights that may or may not be what we think we saw. They rile us up and draw us in until we're so hot we think we're going to explode, and then they slow down to cool us off a bit so that when we start to heat up again, we can get even hotter than we were before. And sometimes, the seduction does include burning dinner, but that's only a small part of the show.

Ms. Hobb end's her essay (story? rant?) with "Don't blog. Write." as if the two are mutually exclusive because in the hands of a master, blogging is a powerful form of writing.

I'm not one of the masters. (My blog isn't anything like a seductive striptease it's more like: "You wanna see my elbow, this is my elbow. Here's my freakin' knee. How about a big toe? I'll show you all of those things, but the really interesting stuff, that's not yours to see. Here's my shoulder, instead.) I came to terms with that years ago when I decided that being a professional storyteller wasn't going to happen. And yet I blog and I try to write as I blog.

I'm not here to seduce the world with my twisting narrative and clever plot twists.

I'm here to share a small part of myself with people, some I know personally, some I don't, and hope that they'll be willing to share some small part of themselves with me.