I went to the blog because I wanted to write deliberately . . . no, I didn’t, I went to the blog because my webmistress made me because she said the site needed new content on a regular basis and I might as well provide it by rambling on the net instead of on the phone to her. My webmistress is also my daughter, which I think explains a lot. But I really did see it as a solitary thing. My own little Walden. If an opinion falls in the wilderness and nobody hears it, does it count? Did I care? What I didn’t foresee–forgive my naiveté–was that people would want to talk back. Did Thoreau have people saying, “About that thing you said . . .” No wait, actually, he did. They asked him what he ate and if he gave to charity.
So anyway, here I was, felling my little opinions silently in the woods, thinking it was kind of fun because it was the one place in my life where nobody was reviewing my work, and then the letters started. Plural. Not dozens but more than one. From people who would like to post replies to my blog which so far consists of me telling people what I’ve been doing–“Another interesting thing about me is . . .”–and my thoughts on women’s writing organizations, neither of which struck me as really engaging, although I, of course, found them fascinating. Still, these people wanted to respond.
And I suppose that’s fair. Accountability and everything. There have been websites I wanted to respond to, like that idiot Focus on the Family questionnaire, “How to tell if your child is homosexual.” Who makes up this crap anyway? It wasn’t even fun crap like “Corrects the words when you sing show tunes” or “Criticizes your sensible shoes,” it was stuff like “Doesn’t like sports” and “Cries like a girl.” Where’s the originality in intolerance these days? That’s the real problem with bigoted quizzes, no creativity, no wit, no flair, no SNARK. Let’s face it, homophobic websites need gay writers.
Where was I?
Oh, right, people want to respond to my blog.
I don’t get it, but okay. I’m adding that capability as soon as I figure out how to do it, which since Blogger is designed for the terminally clueless should not be long. I like a site that knows I’m hopeless and plans for that. But I am not answering anybody. I’ve got enough problems answering my e-mail. So I’m telling you right now, I’m not getting in any fights with anybody or giving advice or in any way engaging in a dialogue here. Unless you’re a homophobic website looking for a gay writer because I have some FABULOUS friends.
But really, feel free to read this and not respond. I’m good with that.
Oh, and one more thing: No anonymous responses. If my butt is hanging out here in the wind (a disturbing image), so is yours.