Monday, January 16, 2006

Sheri at Dangdiggity has gone the way of the DoDo, it seems. She's done this before...really, she's taken breaks, or just simply disappeared before, but she swears this is it. Kaput. Done forevah this time.

We'll see. :P

Sheri and I have a little connection that sort of bonded us early on in my blogging life, and I've always, always respected her as a fellow girl and a fellow blogger. She's foonay, and cute, and bubbly. I've always liked the way she writes, and wished she did it more often. I've always hated it when she leaves like she's doing again. And now I'll hate it even more because she says she's done for good this time. I'll miss you, sista.

This is a concept that I've never gained an understanding of, though. I see it happen throughout the blogosphere, when people move from place to place, or disappear for a while, leaving us to wonder if we can hope for them to return. I understand the need to move from time to time. Hell, I probably should have done it a while ago, to prevent some of the fun family situations that have occurred in the past due to this site. But I chose to stand my ground and deal with the fact that sometimes, people just ain't gonna like me...even my sisters. And it's all mellowed out, I think. For the most part anyway. If it's never brought up again, I hope I hope I hope.

But the fact that blogging found its way into my life the way it did a couple of years ago is something that I see as being a fact of my life. It's just the way it's supposed to be, really. I've always had an itch to write, but hadn't any outlet for it. I've always loved making new friends any way that I can. I've always loved making people laugh, or telling people the stories of things that have happened to me in my life. I love that I can share my amazement at certain news stories, and my peeved attitude towards other drivers, and my stories about my bothersome bowels. I'm grateful that it was created...that the internet is what it is...that my boyfriend doesn't care to read any of it, even though he's fully aware of its existence.

What I'm saying is that I can't imagine myself ever going anywhere. I see myself as always posting at least 5 times per week, telling the stories that are too long, and probably hard to follow and boring a lot of the time, and hoping that I'll hit a cord with someone, and they will make a comment and tell me that they know exactly what I mean. I love the comments. I love that I have lurkers just like everyone else. I love that I never got caught up in the who/what/when/why of visitors, as I don't keep a counter on my site, and I certainly haven't any clue on how to track it privately. I never cared to, really. And I understand that sometimes, a comment isn't necessary, or you don't have time to post one, or someone has already said what you were gonna say anyway, so there's no point. And I love that sometimes, it's just a silly conversation being carried out between the Twin and myself.

I love that I am a blogger. I'm so fucking grateful for the existence of free webspace and free speech that I can't even express it properly, believe me. It's the greatest thing ever...except for BLT sammiches. Because they're pretty much tops in my book. Oh, and sex. BLTs and sex are greater than blogging. But blogging is right up there! In the top 10, at least.

And that is why I will continue to torture people for many years to come, I hope. With the stories that are too long, and too disconnected, and too nonsensicle...because it's fun for me. And I don't care who's reading it, as long as sometimes it's enjoyable stuff. I miss the folks that come and go as they do. But I can understand the burn-out, I s'pose. Every day isn't always going to be interesting to other people. It's not every day that I have a screaming/giggling fight with the boyfriend telling him to stay away from my bunghole, and having him reply that he's just trying to touch my taint. And that isn't always going to be funny to everyone that visits here, anyway. (Although it should be said that he finished the fight by holding down my hands and then farting on me. Which caused me to simultaneously freak out at the grossness and giggle uncontrollably. Because, sometimes, it's damn fun to behave like 10 year olds.) Sometimes, there just isn't much to say.

But somehow, I always manage to figure something out, don't I? You poor bastards.

4 comments:

lyn said...

thank you for gracing us with your presence in the blogosphere :)

Faith said...

To which I just say again, you poor bastards. Heh.

Hell, I'm just glad (and lucky!) to know people like you, and Joelle, and Mikey, and Maine, and all my other faves in the funky little way that I do. Whether I've met them or not, I still feel like I know the bloggers I read daily. Which is an interesting and nifty deal in my book.

Anonymous said...

I think I've shared the same commonality you have with Sheri... remember Jan. 20th, 2005's post?Yeah, and you were SO right about everything you said to the "new chicky-poo"... that was me.

Good for you for moving on... I sure have as well.

Faith said...

Hey, I tried. :) It's always hard to be the one that's being warned, since you were probly more inclined to believe someone who didn't seem bitter about the past. But, in my experience with myself, I usually have pretty darned good reason to be bitter. I'm a reasonably good judge of character, especially after-the-fact. As they say, hind sight is 20/20! Sure was with that guy, right? :D

Glad everything is working out for you. Glad you didn't hold shit I said against me, either. I really, really appreciate that. "Chicky-poo" was a term of endearment towards you, seriously. I hope it didn't seem like I was being condescending. Because I knew what you were heading into, and felt for you, sista.

Gotta dig this small-ass blog world of ours, eh? (And I'm still gonna miss Sheri a ton. I wish you'd change your mind!!!)