Years ago, before I really knew what a blog was or what it could be, I grabbed myself a few good blog titles. They sat there in the metaverse for a while, gathering digital dust, until I decided it might be fun to self-publish.
And so, I began to experiment. At first, I wrote primarily about couture for fashion dolls, which is my primary hobby. My posts on various topics had been sporadic up until this year. For good or for bad, I've always kept civics and current events separate from my art and culture ruminations. For a while, the former categories superceded the latter, but in time, I longed for life to at least feel normal again, which in my case meant focusing again on the things I really loved. Gradually I began to engage once more in various art and design projects, which led naturally to posting more often here at DL&CS. Dreamland Literary and Cinematic Society is a title I'd come up with back in the Nineties but hadn't really explored; now it's an important part of my life. If nothing else, it's faciliated daily writing, and I'm happy about that.
January of this year, I was given a nudge by a blogger friend of mine whose site, The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society, I really enjoy. Mike is one of the sharpest and most engaging young people I've met online, and I'm glad he posts regularly. Just as I was turning the page into 2010, we had this comment exchange:
Mike Wilson said...
What do you want to bet that this is the last time all year you and I have the same number of cumulative annual blog posts?
January 6, 2010 9:26 PM
brenda cox giguere said...
Oooh NO! Manipulated by the most simple and obvious psychological device. Simple but so effective. Curses!
Happy New Year, cyberfriend- and here's a toast: May we both fulfill our personal blogosphere goals.
January 7, 2010 5:08 PM
What? Was this a... challenge? (Apparently, one blog post every blue moon just wasn't cutting it).
This might sound strange, but I never really thought of my blog as having readers. I saw the whole blogging endeavor more as a way to give tangible form to my thought processes, create a kind of personal imprint or archive, explore the aesthetics of online publishing, and engage in the writing process. But apparently a few people have wandered in now that I'm leaving the door unlocked.
By the way, who would have thought such transparent child psychology would be so effective? Go figure!