Bloggers are a narcissistic bunch.
Yes, according to moi (that’s the flag for ‘hey watch for it, you’re about to swatted by OPINION, which incidentally all good blogs have: unbridled and unadulterated ‘moi-thinking’ whose sole purpose is to rub someone the wrong way, just so we can have fun reading all the comments left by outraged reprobates) what we do here, is an exercise in vanity.
It’s a lot like scratching your name in the wood of a school desk. Call it legitimised graffiti, us bloggers want to be heard. We want to feel that our opinions matter. That somewhere out there, someone with more brain cells than an amoeba is reading this and concurring with our worldviews or at the least, intelligently dissecting our arguments and employing educated disagreement.
And yeah, we want to feel like we own a piece of the net, that we’re part of something bigger, you know; the sum of the parts being greater than the whole and all that.
And no, blogging isn’t for geeks. It’s the coolest thing since Phillip Morris told us cigarettes were. And since smokers seem to be a dying breed anyway (just watch them being forced to smoke in those little office glass mausoleums) how else is any self-respecting iconoclast meant to release the pressure of all that pent up angst?
And anyway, won’t we all develop ulcers if we keep our well-intentioned and noble outrage to ourselves?
But I think more painful than any hole in the lining of my stomach, is the knowledge that not a single conscious sentient being has even read this.
It’s blog oblivion, baby.
Event horizon.
