Welcome to the Weblog Hall of Fame
I've been blogging for six months, I'm working on the basis you know what blogging is (in short, all things to all people, and in summary a collection of regularly-ish updated posts, probably time stamped, with an archive). There are lots of blogs; tech types, open-source / messageboard types, journal types, and on subject matters ranging from knitting to war.
I don't know what kind of blog I am, and I can't be bothered to analyse it. It's just what I do. Like I said right at the start;
"I think I might have been designed for blogging... my mind is a constant stream of random thoughts and ideas, and it's been my life's dream - OK, I exaggerate - to systemetise them in some way, or at least get them down on paper."So this is braindump for links I like, and a place to tell the stories that are busting out of my head. That's the science. Nothing more.
But now I have an audience. Since Tuesday, and my mention in the Guardian Weblog, a few things have happened.
First, a whole host of people I've not been in contact with forever have emailed/called and said, "did you know you're in the Guardian?" Now there's a couple of things about that; first, how could one not know you're in a major British newspaper? Especially with stats trackers. And two, when I send someone a link, I generally say, "I'm sure you have seen this, but just in case you haven't…" Just feels, gentler, somehow.
So those are the people I know. Now for the people I don't know. I've had email and IMs (instant messages) from all over the known Guardian reading universe. The IMs surprised me, not least because when I nicked (in the best possible taste, that's how the web works) the code from Luke, I edited it so that whoever messaged me said "Wassup girlfriend?" I don't know why I said that; I think I just thought it was funny at the time. Then suddenly, I'm getting five IMs a day from people saying "wassup girlfriend?" and I'm thinking, why are all these people talking like my friend Misha in LA? Then I remembered. Brain like a sieve. Like I said.
Some of the IMers were interesting, but I suspect most of them just wanted to see if I was real and what I would say. Suffice it to say that I'm not technical enough to write a chatbot; if you get a response, it's the real me. Can't promise to be interesting, though. Can promise to be there.
I've bizarrely entered into a lengthy email correspondence with a number of people about the mathematical basis of the movie Pi. And I say bizarre because I'm an arts/literature/humanities geek, and can just about balance my checkbook. OK, I lied. I've never balanced my checkbook.
I've got email from other people, too. People who think I was too kind to John Humphries (these people may be right). People who like the words I've used. People in Minnesota who just want to say hi. People who "get" what a blog is now. People who seem, so far, to like my anecdotal-evidence approach to life - but hey, those people have never been on holiday with me.
I got email from a bloke in Harlesden who wanted to know if I'm about thirty-one and a Scorpio (which I may be) because he thinks I'm his dream woman (which I may, of course, also be).
And, interestingly enough, people who are exclusively men. Now that should tell you something about the internet, if ever there was a lesson to be learned. Not that I'm here to teach you a lesson. I'm just here to tell a tale or two. God, now I sound like Topol, and that's not a good look.
Do I feel different? I'm trying to carry on being me, but I can't help but be aware of the subtle change. I mean, there was an "audience" before, sure, but it was mostly comprised of friends and other bloggers. My life's objective is only to be the same person all the time, to all the people, so I don't want to behave any differently. I really don't. Truth telling; story telling; the tech side of news and views, with a twist of movie and theatre reviews and a garnish of Kabbalah. Oh, and a hint of girlie stuff. That's what I'm about. It sounds a little eccentric now I've written it down. Oh well. I'll just keep doing what I'm doing, I guess.
