Someone who reads this blog recently asked me what I think about the blog comments. Now you probably noticed that I don’t comment on comments very often and you probably noticed that on certain blogs there are a large volume of comments. It’s really just too hard for me to comment on them all and although a lot of sites on the internet are intended as a cyber dialogue, this one is really more of a monologue with occasional responses and that’s just how it has to be.
Having said that, I have to tell you that I get really excited every time I see that someone has sent in a comment. And I love getting your comments. I love your kindness and unforced compassion. I love your insights. I love the way you address one another. I love the way you share things about your lives and struggles. In short, the blog comments are an important part of my life, and so you, Muselings, have become part of my wonderful circle of loving friends, whether I know you or not.
A couple of other things about the blog comments -- sometimes people ask me why their comment didn’t get published and I don’t usually feel like I need to answer that because the obvious answer is: it’s my blog, deal with it, but just to let you know, I made a conscious decision to make this blog a place where I don’t back off from talking about the things that scare me or cause me grief but at the same time, I don’t want it to become a negative place. If people want to say bad shit about other people, they can go to yelp.com. I, however, really don’t want that on my blog. Believe me, there are a couple of people in my life –well, at least one…let’s just say there’s not enough band width to go there. So I don’t. This blog is a special place for me and I don’t want to turn it into something ugly.
Another thing about your comments – sometimes people write such complimentary things about me that I get a little scared because I feel like Harold Hill in The Music Man and people are following me as my 76 trombones lead the big parade… of bullshit. Trouble in Blogger City. When people seem to look at me as something bigger than I am, better than I am, I really do feel like a con artist and that Shaggy and Velma and the rest of the Scooby-Doo Gang are going to tear off my mask and reveal me for the average, petty, normal person that I am and I’m going to have to say, “Yeah, and I could’ve gotten away with it, too if it weren’t for you pesky Muselings and your dog.”
Some of this is my insecurity and some of it is because I only reveal one dimension of myself on this blog. You see, this is not an entirely unexpurgated version of my thoughts. I try really hard to be honest but I also leave out the stuff that I think would be hurtful to any individuals (except for Dr. Evan Collier and Julie the receptionist. I’ve made it clear that they’re douche-bags. Or rather, he’s a douche-bag, and she’s a gate-keeping bridge troll,. I’m really proud of that insult.) But other than that, I try as hard as I can to not out the douche-bags in my life, including me because I can be a shit-sack sometimes myself. And if you don’t believe me, just ask my son.
Now I’m rambling. What else do I feel about the blog comments? I feel like I’ve touched a nerve. I’ve hit on a place that I thought was uniquely mine -- my need to find meaning and beauty amidst my suffering, but I realize now that it’s the human condition. We all want to find that. We all want to know that while our time on this earth, may not have a definable purpose, it has moments of grace. And I’m really proud that even though I’m dealing with a lot, I can still offer something to people. So when I say the blog is my lifeline, it’s not even so much about what I write. It’s about knowing that what I write is being heard and that hearing it is helpful to people. I can’t express to you how great a feeling that is.
The internet and cell phones and Facebook and texting and Twitter (the aptly named Twitter, for twits with nothing better to do but boil the complexity of their life into 140 characters – and yes, I know I’ll regret those words when I’m typing with my fucking chin…coming soon!) .All of these things have an alienating quality to me because the more we use them, the more we’re insulated from our own experience with other people. I remember when I was a busy person, feeling a bit of disappointment when I would get an actual person on the phone because I would have to go through the niceties of getting caught up rather than give them “just the facts m’am”. And so we’ve all become this culture of Jack Webb/Joe Fridays, wanting just the facts. What a major Drag...net.
Anyway, I find it amazing that what I think of as alienating has become a public place where we can all meet and connect with each other. It’s just astonishing to me. Even as I draw closer and closer to eschewing electronic forms of communication almost completely and just trying to hug and hold hands and snuggle with people instead; the blog is there and it’s real and it means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. So for all the times you’ve written and encouraged me, for all the times you’ve boosted me, for all the times you’ve courageously shared something painful that’s happening in your life, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you’ve done nothing else, you’ve buoyed me in a difficult time and you’ve left something utterly amazing - in the real sense of the word amazing, - through which my son can remember me. Imagine him looking at your comments or showing them to his children years from now.
Can you think of a greater gift?
And you’ve given that to me.
So I can say without a trace of disingenuousness, I really love you all.