Well, here is a story for you, one that you won’t find anywhere else on the whole internet. It’s only here and in the fuzzy memories of the lucky few who were present.
Setting: It’s those swingin 70’s and my baby sister, who is so chic that she was born wearing white patent leather go-go boots, is learning to express her world-view and her musical talent in ways that we been-here-awhile folks can grasp. It’s a steamy summer afternoon and we somewhat-grown-upper kids are hangin over the back seat of Mom’s blue Vista Cruiser station wagon, fourth in line at the first drive-through bank in all of Kansas City. Our armpits are sticking to the vinyl.
Little, that’s my baby sister, has crawled over the back seat and claimed the entire backend of the car for herself. Fine, it is too hot to argue and the air conditioning comes from the vents up front anyway. We are all waiting semi-patiently for Mom to do her banking so the teller-lady will put suckers for us in the cannister along with Mom’s money. (I already have dibbs on the purple one.)
And that is when Little starts singing:
Here we are
at the Pee-pls Bank –
and youuuuu — are alllll –
There in the middle, at the “youuuuu” point, she spreads her arms out like a miniature Ethel Mermann. I think I never saw Mom laugh that hard on a steamy August afternoon in the city.
The end is always the beginning - and this is the end of story but the beginning of getting to the point.
I struggled for the longest time (and my capacity for struggle is immense), about what to write at my blog. I can confess this now because I think I’m getting there… These days everyone says you need a theme in order to have a successful blog. Me ‘n the mauses rumbled with that idea for awhile until they called bulls**t on it and said their theme was Mauses, thank you very much and anyway, maybe I should just get on with being the change I want to see.
Begin Middle-Point Marginalia
I miss my internet - the one where I met Jens - in 1994. (I knowit we hardly even had a tag back then!) I miss the seven hundred other people who were hanging out etherierally just wanting to share what they knew about stuff they found fascinating. Nobody thought about SEO or making enough money to fill a semi-truck with twenties, or even about their popularity. We just kept our link lists and made links to other people with cool link lists and surfed around winding up in the most impossible places being introduced to stuff we didn’t even know was interesting. I never felt like I wasted time surfing back then.
That’s all gone now. The internet is surely very convenient these days, but have you noticed: it’s a consolidated trash heap of commercialism, sensationalism and their boring love-twins: sensational-commercialism and commercial-sensationalism!! Before you find something to delight your soul you have wasted the better part of two hours looking at shoes you don’t need, sucking down news about horrible happenings you can’t effect and viewing gossipy pictures of people you don’t know. And their cars.
My nutcase mauses were right. Of course. I started consider: Maybe thousands of popular bloggers have already said what I want to say - and maybe, if I had gotten off my a** in the 90’s, I would be a popular blogger too … Yep, and it was just that quick that the whole thing spun off a tail of its own looking a lot like self-recrimination and how-could-you-have-wasted-a-prehistoric-chance-like-that and I was going down for the second time, waving my hands in the air and gasping for breath when I noticed those mauses all siting around with their little heads cocked at dozens of different angles (they do this to get my attention - they know I’ll laugh cause they look so funny) waiting patiently for me to drop the drama-lama so they could say:
Oh. Did you want to be a popular blogger?
Yeah. Well, no. Not necessarily. I just want to be popular with my peeps, that’s all.
So this post is to say thanks especially to my dear friend Brianne who wrote to me and told me that I am indeed succeeding. That’s really, really important to me.