A few of my FaceBook friends:
I haven’t ‘penned’ anything for months, it seems.
No one’s anxiously awaiting my next missive. 95% of my hits are the results of searches for “newcastle brown ale” or “froot loops.” The other five are my regular readers.
Hey, newcastle and froot loops people…. how’re you doin’?
I forget, sometimes, that this blog thing is for me (It’s OK if you read it, and its more than OK if you like it — don’t get me wrong — you’re welcome here) and me alone.
I use it when playing online poker for pretend chips doesn’t do it for me any more.
I use it when there’re no football games worth watching on the mesmeric screen in the other room.
I use it when something itches and I can’t seem to effectively scratch it.
I use it when I can’t concentrate (writing stream of conscience jabberwocky can sometimes be fruitful — more fruitful than the storied room full of monkeys with typewriters, I guess.)
I’m using it now.
People around me are getting more and more into story-telling — I do this.
I have a long, involved story that’s rather hard to tell. There was a lot going on.
I’ve written little bits and pieces of it. Tiny chunks of my life laid artificially (minimally) bare.
I’m not sure I like where this little bit’o'fluff is going.
OK. Here’s a little story.
I was reading someone else’s wall on FaceBook a few weeks ago, and came across a comment by this guy I’d gone to high school with. I fired off a ‘friend request’ (I don’t usually do that. I keep a low profile and let the ‘friends’ come to me – thus proving their worthiness) right then. The next day, I got a message from him:
“Hi Bob.I don’t seem to remember you from high school.Do you remember me?If so let me know.”
You don’t remember me?
How, when I spent my whole being keeping a low profile, sitting away from the center, speaking quietly if I ever spoke at all, rarely reaching out to anyone, can you say that you don’t remember me??
I’m shocked!
… and i was … until I remembered who I was, and who I had been in school.
Why should anyone remember me?
I looked at my senior yearbook and read my “accomplishments.” Not much there.
You can read “throwing People away” to see how I treated people back then.
Why would anyone remember me? I’m just lucky that the people who did, did. (— it’s awkward, but I like it —)
So, I wrote back, and told him who I was, and who my best friend back then (see that blog post again) was, and some other stuff.
He accepted my ‘friend request.’
Vindicated.
End of story?
(man, I knew I didn’t like where this was goin’)
You crack me up! Love the picture, I’m the one on the left. Funny you should mention how people find your blog. I look at that every day and there are two searches that are most used. Bitchy Kitty and Dirty Diaper. Everytime I see that, I’m like, what? How flattering huh?
hey sport, u still hide behind a wall at times- i had to copy the pix – I almost felt as I was one of the monkeys behind a typewriter, thankfully the keyboard is not considered legally a typewriter, just a keyboard for a computer, still mighty thankful for all you do from your loving Arkmarff!
My cheeks hurt and my wife thinks I’m retarded b/c of how much I’m laughing at the cat picture. That’s a cat I think I would like.
wait a minute, one of those cats looks stoned……Bob, which cat were you?
so–
i’ve been sitting here with furrowed brow pondering the term ‘friend request’.
we know what the term friend is (i think) but to request is: the act of asking something politely of someone.
holy moley!
a society where we politely ask people to be our friend? OR we politely ask them to REMEMBER being our friend?
wow–talk about vulnerability.
hmmmmm….
Ok, why do we feel so guilty when we don’t remember a friend who is making the request?
I don’t know about you, genius, but I don’t remember half the faces in the yearbook.
And I seem to remember faces that I can’t find anywhere in the yearbook.
I’m another visitor who found you through the Newcastle pic. Stayed to read Bee(r) Stingers (good stuff) and this post which tracks pretty close with my blogging page view activity, blogging habits and my experience in high school.
Here’s to serendipity.