blogging on blogs

This one comes at the behest of a "special" someone (but not "special" as in the PC way to describe a "slow" -- is it really offensive to use retard? -- person). Okay, well maybe I do mean it that way, but in another way, too.

You see, after this particular special person learned that his "special" someone (in the romantic sense, this time) apparently finds some purpose in wasting her time reading my drivel, he prompted me to explain myself and the blogging community. Which basically means I had to come up for some plausible reason for why weirdos spend time browsing other people's public personal journals/diaries.

But of course.

For posterity's sake (and just because I like to say that), let's keep in mind that this particular special person's special someone and I have met only once, and therefore the oddity of her sub rosa reading of my fucked-up blog is magnified.

So.......let us indeed delve into some psychoanalytic (I think this is the wrong word but I use it anyways) musings for why people (writers and readers both) participate in this prima facie ridiculous expose of the human experience.


Here is why blogs exist:

people are weird. Everyone is weird. Which means everyone is normal. And weird is normal. And neither weird nor normal mean anything.

people like to know how other people are weird and, therefore, how they, weird in their own right, are normal. So are fortified our insecurities.

curiosity on the Internet equates quite nicely with stalking, and people are undeniably (instinctually, at least in the sexual sense and probably very likely for other relationships as well) interested in other people. There's nothing wrong with that.

but this stalking business sees it's heyday in the anonymity afforded by the Internet. Case in point: maniacal away message checkers and facebook addicts (and we know my view on those people/losers). People care A LOT about other people -- but they care in completely immensified (not a word) amounts (we're talking gargantuan, Brobdingnagian here) when their caring isn't known to the people they are caring about. Yes, humans are fucked up creatures.

On the flip side, people like to think they are important and that other people care. Call it attention or if that's not quite right, attention's twin. Whatever it is, we crave it. That's why there are so many pathetic pleas for comments at the end of blog posts. Lest we forget the everpresent (wrong word but it sort of fits and I have always been a big fan of misplaced hyperbole), ego-boosting (or deflating, as the case may be) hit counters. Worse, very rarely does the blogger actually give a shit what his/her readers think or opine about a given topic. He/she just wants to know that someone (and more specifically WHO) is reading. This is sad to me.

Wouldn't it (blogging, but life too) all be easier without the charade and the games? Would it be the same? Would it be as real? Would it be less real?

I guess the answer lies in the evolution of blogs themselves, as they obviously have arisen to fill needs/wants that normal societal interactions weren't meeting. Still, maybe if our societies were like they used to be (which in some respects was perhaps better?) or if we weren't so impersonal it begin with, the whole blog phenomenon would seem like a cheap Reno hooker version of the Diane Lane (what is my thing for older women these days?) face-to-face talking experience.

Fully embracing and loving my own hypocrisy, I will admit that I had this craving once (see Wednesday weekly meme) but thankfully, I quickly realized I was above the stupidness of all other humans and stopped caring if anyone read my ponderings. I mean, I dont' talk to people, so it wasn't a huge change.

To be fair (and objectivity is always something DTM strives for) (really, I swear) (and when I say that I mean it, but then I also recognize its inherent hypocrisy -- but still, hopefully, it's truth) it probably helped more than I'm willing to admit (though doesn't that mean I just admitted it?) that I've gotten and still get a lot of feedback outside of my blogging friends, because even though I love writing, it's not like I had a floofy diary before I had a blog. I could argue typing saves time and thus makes it all worthwhile, but somehow I don't think I can really say that's why I do it.

It's more likely because I don't talk or share feelings like regular people. As a robot, this blog is really my only valid self expression, even though it is rarely personal and often bullshit. At least to the outside observer -- whose mind I am sure I mess up more than help out (as is my didactic intent). Still, the life and times of DTM pretty obviously (I would hope, scary as it is) gives a glimpse of my personality, if not my person.

And obviously, like everyone reading this or writing their own or swimming in the Orinoco (props to Enya), it is human instinct, ingrained to our core, to attempt to validate our existence through finding SOME value of our being to others -- otherwise why the hell would we put up with the cost of living when it clearly outweighs the benefits?

Thoughts?

********

just kidding........Seriously. It was simply an attempt at further hypocrisy, which I'm not sure is possible for me. So don't comment. Please.

Unless you want to, I mean. If that's the case, "bombs away."

But I don't want you to. Honestly. I swear. I'm comfortable with who I am.

Which is why I publish myself to the world to see if you all think I'm acceptable. Because I really couldn't handle it if I wasn't. Am I acceptable?

You can tell me via your comments. If you feel comfortable, of course.

Which would reveal your identity. And let me know you cared. AND other people would know too, which would suck, wouldn't it?

you could post anonymously though....that would be cool.

But don't do it because of me. I'm not asking and don't care (be a person and do what YOU want). I swear to God. Having read through this, I feel as if I've given you the wrong conclusion (I feel like this devolved horribly into something that can be interpreted as the very plea I hate when it was started to dramatize the atrocity of just such a thing. That is the cruel, insidious nature of this blog entry I guess. I have been spited into looking like a fool crying out for attention when my whole point was to dispute such a possiblity. Because, beleive you me, DTM has taken his stance on "normal" bloggers (and I'm sorry to those who I have offended, just know you aren't the first or last -- this is how assholes work), and just as in real life he has rejected everyone else for his own supreme, personal, and hoarded nirvana.

And hypocrisy.


and round in circles we go, formless, scared, insecure beings. We are the hollow men. We are the stuffed men.