I recently discovered the number of blogs Myspace hosts. The number is so vast, that I learned it less than five minutes ago and I already cannot recall it's vastness. The number had at least two commas. Did this many people have something to say fifteen years ago? Thirty? Fifty?
I feel like I have wanted people to know what I am thinking at every moment since I was four-years-old. My father - a jokester who apparently enjoyed molding his son's brain into silly putty - told me that our U.S. President installed cameras into everyone's houses, an idea my father probably thought would scare me, but I thought was totally good thinkin'. There were cameras all over; in the kitchen, the bedroom and even the bathroom; there was no place to hide. Ironically, he told this to me sometime around 1984 (probably in honor of George Orwell) and many years before The Truman Show.* Anyway, until I was in junior high and my friends constantly questioned why I kept winking at the light fixtures in their parents' house, I was under the impression that men-in-suits were wondering what I was doing and were assuaging such wonder by staring at video monitors hooked up to hidden cameras peppered around my house. This sounded like a real bad deal for those men-in-suits because most of the time I wasn't doing much of anything. Out of guilt, I always tried to make my routine minutae as entertaining as possible. I hoped that it would make the men-in-suits feel better about their jobs and maybe then they'd go home at the end of the day happier and less likely to fill their 4-year-old's head with lies about cameras and men-in-suits!
So anyway, I feel like I'm better equipped to blog than anyone uninterested in such an activity before 1984.
I feel like I have wanted people to know what I am thinking at every moment since I was four-years-old. My father - a jokester who apparently enjoyed molding his son's brain into silly putty - told me that our U.S. President installed cameras into everyone's houses, an idea my father probably thought would scare me, but I thought was totally good thinkin'. There were cameras all over; in the kitchen, the bedroom and even the bathroom; there was no place to hide. Ironically, he told this to me sometime around 1984 (probably in honor of George Orwell) and many years before The Truman Show.* Anyway, until I was in junior high and my friends constantly questioned why I kept winking at the light fixtures in their parents' house, I was under the impression that men-in-suits were wondering what I was doing and were assuaging such wonder by staring at video monitors hooked up to hidden cameras peppered around my house. This sounded like a real bad deal for those men-in-suits because most of the time I wasn't doing much of anything. Out of guilt, I always tried to make my routine minutae as entertaining as possible. I hoped that it would make the men-in-suits feel better about their jobs and maybe then they'd go home at the end of the day happier and less likely to fill their 4-year-old's head with lies about cameras and men-in-suits!
So anyway, I feel like I'm better equipped to blog than anyone uninterested in such an activity before 1984.
I guess blogging isn't about importance so much as it is about ease (the crux of why blogging has become so damn popular I suppose. Hell, I have three blogs and Lord knows I haven't put forth one worthwile sentiment on any of them), and ego. It takes a certain amount of ego to assume friends or strangers have any interest in your random collection of musings. I know I don't care about most people's random collection of musings, but somewhere along the line there is a disconnect between my feelings toward others and my projected feelings of others towards me.
That is ego.
I hope that soon, I will say something interesting or entertaining or worthy of a stranger's time. I'm not aiming for a Nobel here (I'd blog on Friendster if I was aiming for a Nobel), but if you look at the top blogs on Myspace... well, look I don't wanna knock a fellow blogger, so I'll just say that the word "poop" and "dude" appear frequently in such blogs.
Again though, my ego makes me a hypocrite: my profile uses the word "gism" so it's not like I can really play the highbrow card here. I guess I wish I had more to say than those Poop Dudes, but I do not. I only have some homeless man I saw on the street "the other day" to write about, or what I was like as a kid, or what song is currently melting faces. And through all this uncreative ramblings about nothing oringinal, I will nevertheless assume that I am awesome and anyone who isn't reading my blog-of-awesomeness is simply missing out. Like the guy who resisted buying the Killers album until, like last summer after the band was stretching to find a fourth single or the guy in my freshman biology class who failed because he was overly mezmorized with looking at his own sperm under a microscope**.
These are examples of people who missed the boat.
For the rest of you, this is Adam's Ego speaking. Congatulations on finding his blog-of-awesomeness. You shant be dissappointed. See? I just typed "shant" which is inarguably the best word you've heard all day. Go ahead, start using it around other people who haven't read this blog. Make it "the thing that you say". You'll be original and cool and you'll make everyone else want to start using shant instead of the word won't. Won't will soon be a word for suckers and baffoons.
No need to thank me, it's what I do. Awesomeness begets more awesomeness. But while you are using shant (and you will begin using shant) just remember that you heard it from Adam's Ego and Adam's Ego is way better than you could ever hope to be. So shut your blog down and give up.
*** *** *** *** ***
*My father also gave me the impression that there was a tall tower in our town that controlled every traffic light. He would tell me that if I was ever at a red light and rolled the window down and said, "please sir, change the light so I may go." that the workers i nthe tower would hear me and the light would turn green.
The timing must have been perfect when my dad first tried this trick on me, because for a good year or so, I totally fell for it. My dad wouldbe driving and my mom would be in the passenger seat - unaware of the magical traffic light tower - and she'd suddenly hear her little boy roll down the window in the middle of a Midwestern winter saying, "please sir, change the light so I may go."
She would ask my dad why I was saying that, and he would look at her and shrug as if he had nothing to do with her first-born son's psychotic behavior.
Looking back on this, I'm surprised I'm not more screwy. Unless I am screwy and people just aren't telling me. Which, considering I believed the Government hired all these men-in-suits and traffic light tower workers just to make my life a little more trying, is entirely possible.
** I have no idea how that kid got his sperm on a microscope slide.
That is ego.
I hope that soon, I will say something interesting or entertaining or worthy of a stranger's time. I'm not aiming for a Nobel here (I'd blog on Friendster if I was aiming for a Nobel), but if you look at the top blogs on Myspace... well, look I don't wanna knock a fellow blogger, so I'll just say that the word "poop" and "dude" appear frequently in such blogs.
Again though, my ego makes me a hypocrite: my profile uses the word "gism" so it's not like I can really play the highbrow card here. I guess I wish I had more to say than those Poop Dudes, but I do not. I only have some homeless man I saw on the street "the other day" to write about, or what I was like as a kid, or what song is currently melting faces. And through all this uncreative ramblings about nothing oringinal, I will nevertheless assume that I am awesome and anyone who isn't reading my blog-of-awesomeness is simply missing out. Like the guy who resisted buying the Killers album until, like last summer after the band was stretching to find a fourth single or the guy in my freshman biology class who failed because he was overly mezmorized with looking at his own sperm under a microscope**.
These are examples of people who missed the boat.
For the rest of you, this is Adam's Ego speaking. Congatulations on finding his blog-of-awesomeness. You shant be dissappointed. See? I just typed "shant" which is inarguably the best word you've heard all day. Go ahead, start using it around other people who haven't read this blog. Make it "the thing that you say". You'll be original and cool and you'll make everyone else want to start using shant instead of the word won't. Won't will soon be a word for suckers and baffoons.
No need to thank me, it's what I do. Awesomeness begets more awesomeness. But while you are using shant (and you will begin using shant) just remember that you heard it from Adam's Ego and Adam's Ego is way better than you could ever hope to be. So shut your blog down and give up.
*** *** *** *** ***
*My father also gave me the impression that there was a tall tower in our town that controlled every traffic light. He would tell me that if I was ever at a red light and rolled the window down and said, "please sir, change the light so I may go." that the workers i nthe tower would hear me and the light would turn green.
The timing must have been perfect when my dad first tried this trick on me, because for a good year or so, I totally fell for it. My dad wouldbe driving and my mom would be in the passenger seat - unaware of the magical traffic light tower - and she'd suddenly hear her little boy roll down the window in the middle of a Midwestern winter saying, "please sir, change the light so I may go."
She would ask my dad why I was saying that, and he would look at her and shrug as if he had nothing to do with her first-born son's psychotic behavior.
Looking back on this, I'm surprised I'm not more screwy. Unless I am screwy and people just aren't telling me. Which, considering I believed the Government hired all these men-in-suits and traffic light tower workers just to make my life a little more trying, is entirely possible.
** I have no idea how that kid got his sperm on a microscope slide.
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