Wednesday, July 29, 2009

...To Protect the Guilty...

I’m having a lot of trouble finding something to post about.

It isn’t that I don’t have anything to say. God knows, I have LOTS of things to say. But there are two hindrances:

Some of the stuff I want to say is stuff I can’t talk about. Not yet, anyway. I have quite a few things in the works, and I can’t discuss them without ruining it all. So *mmfff mmmmfffff mfmf mffm* (takes hand off mouth) until Spring or so.

I’m distressingly public. I really don’t make any attempt to hide my real life identity – so, if you tracked me down, stop patting yourself on the back. It’s pretty easy to get my name and address. Most of the people I know are well aware of the blog. They figured it out when I ran up to them and said “Hey, you have to go read my blog! It’s a big collection of random crap! With pictures!”

And THAT, of course, means that they can all read all the nasty stuff I say about them. I didn’t realize how much of a problem that would be until I got a phone call refuting one of the crazy stories, from someone who had a starring role. This person made it quite clear that they were not, in fact, as crazy as they had been made out to be.


Let me start by saying:

Denials are meaningless.

Secondly, damn it all, now I have to either resort to writing about random strangers or just put up with endless phone calls.

I did consider trotting down to Cinnabon in the mall food court, with a notepad and a pair of field glasses, to people watch and take notes on said random strangers while I had a nice sticky bun with pecans, but most of my posts about strangers have to do with What They Did to Piss Me Off This Time and I don’t see why I should subject myself to that. Also, each Cinnabon weighs about six pounds and contains enough calories to power a small nuclear reactor for a week or two, so I should probably rethink that plan.

I could put up with the phone calls, I suppose, and let it go to voicemail, but I happen to be one of those people who is completely incapable of letting the phone go to voicemail. I have been known to look at caller ID and shriek “Crap! I don’t want to talk to this person” in the split second before I pick up the phone, say hello, and act all surprised about who it is. I will even answer the phone to tell people that I am way too busy to answer the phone.

I guess I should have kept the blog a secret, but what would be the point of that? There’s no reason to bitch if nobody is listening. It’s like a tree falling in the forest.

I am convinced that blogs are insane. Write out your innermost diary thoughts, publish them on line, and tell everybody where to find them.

What the hell was I thinking?


cindy said...

I hear ya, I'm getting tired of my own old posts about not having a job yet. But, it is part of my daily pursuits!

markjoy said...

But I love your batches of completely inappropriate personal revelations!

...And your subject should rest assured that he/she was not the only crazy singled out. And also that we are all crazy in our own indiosynchronous ways. (I didn't spell that correctly but I'm too lazy to look it up)

sisterofmagichands said...

Whoever said they were not as crazy as they were made out to be must be that crazy or they would not have recognized the story was about them. If it wasn't accurate they would not have known it was about them.

Copper Leaf Studios said...

ohmygod, I snorted iced tea on the screen. Thank you for having the courage to write about the nutwads. If I only did not have that day job...


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