No comment

I have received no comments on the last several of what I think are sort-of interesting, if not nicely written posts. I am aware that the content of said posts is not that much different from Anymom-blogger@anywhere.com, and I am most decidedly aware that the writing is not as spectacular as some that I read. And, MAN! Some of the stuff I read... is nothing short of amazing. The universe didn't know it had such a plethora of intelligent authors until the advent of blogdom. What a treasure trove! Some of you make me laugh, and cry, and hug at my sides with the laughter! Or the crying. I'm not even fishing for compliments here (she says as she launches her line), but I realize I am not One of Those Writers.

I would also like to have a great blog title. Some of the cleverest, IMHO, are:
But I Digress
Idbit (<--get it?? ID-bit?? So clever.)
A Tale of Two Kiddies (for which I cannot find a link)
Does This Mean I'm a Grown-Up?
Welcome to Patootieville (<--that one just cracks me up)
The tagline from "Dance...": Excuse me while I figure out my life. Lalalala I'm not listening...
Von Krankipantzen, a word which, for some reason, I cannot get out of my head

...and by far my favorite of all,
insert witty title here.

Those are so great. Although, as I was searching for all of those well-titled pages, I decided that "Hello, Self," does pretty accurately describe what I'm doing here, which is absolutely talking to myself. I've done it for years -- it's me. It's all about me. SELF SELF SELF.

But dangit, Internet, once you've given me one comment, I'd prefer a thousand. It isn't that I need your approval or advice, but we all thrive on positive reinforcement, after all. My ego likes to be stroked just as much as the next guy's. I am trying to remind myself, "Now, Self, remember when you started this blog, you promised to not get all hyped up about the 'audience.' This is just for YOU, remember? Write it for YOU." This is just an online version of the fabric-backed journals I've been keeping for years -- minus the crayon drawings and magazine clippings and poetry that I used to paste into those old books, as my 9th-grade English & religion teacher taught me to do. (Wow, hadn't thought about it, but I kinda miss having those things in a journal.)

So.... Who cares who comments. Right? Go on about your business, gentle readers, and don't worry because I really don't need you. Really. I don't... no, I insist...

:)