Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Just a tiny pity party

One person has visited the site in the last week. Strangely enough, they were from Australia. Not sure how they found me but they didn't stay long. This is my dilemma. I don't think this site is very compelling (and by extension, neither am I). Nothing that makes you want to stay a little longer if you happen to stop by. Something you can stand to miss. Kind of like a store you shop at twice a year. If it went out of business, you would briefly mourn that it wasn't there anymore but there wasn't anything there you couldn't get anywhere else. I kind of feel that way about match too. I'm missing that intangible quality--the best thing about me might be that I'm not as boring as I initially seem. That's not exactly compelling. I have intrinsic value as a living being, as we all do, but that doesn't mean that anyone would want to date me or read anything I write. I think that is a hard but necessary pill to swallow and digest. I want to be special, I think everyone does and everyone is. But I want to be extra-special and not everyone is extra-special. Being designated extra-special is a fickle and often arbitrary thing but to again marvel the phenom of Britney Spears as a "singer" she does have some sort of quality which allows her to stand out among all the other average looking, mediocre-voiced wannabes. That is what makes her extra-special. The more respectable marvel of extra-specialness is Tina Fey. She's worked the salt mines of her craft long before we even knew she existed. She is willfully non-glamorous and I'd like to think she recognizes quite sincerely that she's fortunate. Fortunate to have found her audience, fortunate to have the right combination of people around her to execute her vision, fortunate to have the support and time to build her audience, damn fortunate for the randomness of Sarah Palin's placement on the Republican ticket. I'm happy that opportunity met her preparation because when someone like her succeeds, someone who is quite ordinarily special, it keeps a tiny flame of hope alight for me. Although it is VERY unlikely anything will ever come of this random writing thing, perhaps, perhaps, something will. I've read some pretty crappy things in print. Maybe someday, some of my crap will be printed and bound for posterity. Maybe I should work on being even more crappy so that people will read me simply to be incredulous that someone thought trees should be felled to get my words out to more people. Fame through notoriety. Kind of like the Paris Hilton of writing. The kind of writing that makes you want to put down what you're doing to find someone and show them just how bad it is and how knocked over you are that it made it to press and has the nerve to have a price printed on it. Not fit for wiping bad. Though to be fair, I've never read a book fit for wiping. No matter how bad the prose, the paper is simply unsuitable for any kind of sanitary bathroom use. Not to mention the plumbing problems you invite with trying to flush that kind of paper. Book paper is really only suitable as worst-case, emergency side of the road wiping. Glad we got that cleared up.

So in conclusion, the dog is waiting for me to walk her, I just got invited to dinner with a neighbor, and I'm boring and my writing sucks. Yep, I think I covered all the bases.

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