Just in case anyone was unclear, there was a quote of the day yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. That's what "Quote of the Day" MEANS. If you've missed some of them, that's your own carelessness. I post them religiously, every day. 'Cause that's what "of the day" means.
From the brand new Narcissus-X: Narcissus-X, the blog devoted entirely to itself, was created at about 7:00 pm, Sunday, July 22, 2007: a time which is significant, because that is when this blog was created.
The author of Narcissus-X has reached the culmination of the blogging about blogging about blogging about blogging spiral, with a blog entirely about the blog itself.
Showing posts with label blogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogs. Show all posts
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Quotes of the Day
Since I know myself well enough to know that my newly conceived "Quote of the Day" will not be a daily occurrence, I'm starting out with two quotes...that way I'll be ahead of the game and I can skip a day without falling behind when life gets busy!
From author Patrick Rothfuss's blog: So profound was my non-productivity that a nearby Buddhist monk was embarrassingly upstaged. He was so thrown off his groove that not only did he fail to reach nirvana, but he broke into a nearby pet store and promptly punched a kitten.
From BubbleDumb: Plus, did you ever notice how the patient in Operation always had his fucking eyes open? You've pretty much failed the game before you've started! Patients are meant to be asleep, not wide awake with a worried expression on their faces.
From author Patrick Rothfuss's blog: So profound was my non-productivity that a nearby Buddhist monk was embarrassingly upstaged. He was so thrown off his groove that not only did he fail to reach nirvana, but he broke into a nearby pet store and promptly punched a kitten.
From BubbleDumb: Plus, did you ever notice how the patient in Operation always had his fucking eyes open? You've pretty much failed the game before you've started! Patients are meant to be asleep, not wide awake with a worried expression on their faces.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
So I'm not a Big Fan of Blogs...But I love Disney Princesses
Let's overlook for a moment the fact that I have five personal blogs and eight professional ones. It's all in a day's work, mostly. I'm not a big fan of blogs. That is, I don't get why a lot of the people who blog blog, and I don't get why a lot of people who talk all the time about how they don't like to blog start blogs, and I REALLY don't get why people read blogs. I mean, industry blogs are one thing. Blogs that provide commentary on recent developments in your field, blogs that provide little informational bulletins about things you need to know about...that I get. I guess if you're a teenager and your favorite rock star has a blog and you don't realize that he actually pays some PR person to write the blog for him and doesn't even know what it says, then you might have an inclination to read the blog. But just wandering the internet reading about how other bloggers burned their toast this morning or had a revelation while stuck in traffic or wish they'd remembered to kiss their husbands goodbye?
Um.
Yeah.
This evening, though, I ran across a blog post about Disney Princesses.
Let me just say that I have deep appreciation for Disney Princesses. DEEP. It's not that I especially like them (or even that I did when I was a child). It probably comes as no surprise to you that I'm not much of a romantic. "Someday My Prince Will Come" is not exactly my theme song. I find happily ever after sort of unlikely, and there's a part of me that thinks it would be sort of cloying even if it turned out to be true. Okay, a big part.
So why the love of Disney Princesses?
It's not the gowns (though I really like the pink one Cinderella has on BEFORE the fairy godmother got involved...I always thought her own dress was better than the magical one).
And it's not the veracity for sure, because I've ALWAYS been bothered by the fact that everything ELSE turned back to what it was before at midnight, but the glass slippers remained. Oh, sure, I told myself it was because they were the only wholly created item, while everything else was some other item or creature in disguise, but I didn't really buy it.
It's this: I have an eleven-year-old daughter. Eleven. You know, BALANCED ON THE VERY FINE LINE BETWEEN CHILDHOOD AND ADOLESCENCE? And she loves Disney Princesses. She's occasionally tempted by Green Day posters and such, but thus far she has eschewed them in favor of keeping her room Pink. Princess comforter, outrageously priced (but gorgeous) Princess blinds, Princess sheets, Princess lamp, Princess posters, some....Princess THING I can't even identify that scrolls Cinderella and the Prince across a lighted background. You get the picture. And it's a picture of a little girl's room, at least for a minute longer. It's a picture of such excitement over Cinderella III that I end up letting her open the DVD the night before her birthday so we can watch it while it's still the weekend. It's a picture of a child/teen who sometimes tries to get out of the house in make-up, but sometimes plays INSIDE in a tiara with a magic wand.
I'm a fan of Princesses, and especially Cinderella, whom I have always preferred in her apron with her hair loose and her head covered by a scarf. Frankly, until I saw this blog today, I didn't even know that the Princesses were under attack. But this lady, whomever she might be, has it covered. I don't even have to defend those Princesses. And even more surprising, I found myself reading the post before...and the one before that.
Um.
Yeah.
This evening, though, I ran across a blog post about Disney Princesses.
Let me just say that I have deep appreciation for Disney Princesses. DEEP. It's not that I especially like them (or even that I did when I was a child). It probably comes as no surprise to you that I'm not much of a romantic. "Someday My Prince Will Come" is not exactly my theme song. I find happily ever after sort of unlikely, and there's a part of me that thinks it would be sort of cloying even if it turned out to be true. Okay, a big part.
So why the love of Disney Princesses?
It's not the gowns (though I really like the pink one Cinderella has on BEFORE the fairy godmother got involved...I always thought her own dress was better than the magical one).
And it's not the veracity for sure, because I've ALWAYS been bothered by the fact that everything ELSE turned back to what it was before at midnight, but the glass slippers remained. Oh, sure, I told myself it was because they were the only wholly created item, while everything else was some other item or creature in disguise, but I didn't really buy it.
It's this: I have an eleven-year-old daughter. Eleven. You know, BALANCED ON THE VERY FINE LINE BETWEEN CHILDHOOD AND ADOLESCENCE? And she loves Disney Princesses. She's occasionally tempted by Green Day posters and such, but thus far she has eschewed them in favor of keeping her room Pink. Princess comforter, outrageously priced (but gorgeous) Princess blinds, Princess sheets, Princess lamp, Princess posters, some....Princess THING I can't even identify that scrolls Cinderella and the Prince across a lighted background. You get the picture. And it's a picture of a little girl's room, at least for a minute longer. It's a picture of such excitement over Cinderella III that I end up letting her open the DVD the night before her birthday so we can watch it while it's still the weekend. It's a picture of a child/teen who sometimes tries to get out of the house in make-up, but sometimes plays INSIDE in a tiara with a magic wand.
I'm a fan of Princesses, and especially Cinderella, whom I have always preferred in her apron with her hair loose and her head covered by a scarf. Frankly, until I saw this blog today, I didn't even know that the Princesses were under attack. But this lady, whomever she might be, has it covered. I don't even have to defend those Princesses. And even more surprising, I found myself reading the post before...and the one before that.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Blogging about blogging about blogs
I wrote a column once, years ago, about making money writing books about making money writing books about making money writing books. Comical as it was, it was a wholly viable plan, and the column was triggered by my realization that the author--whose name I've since forgotten--of The Well Fed Writer wrote a book about making a living as a freelance copywriter, but in interviews copped to the fact that most of his income (the vast majority, if I recall correctly) came from the book about how to make money as a freelance writer, not his actual work as a freelance writer.
Today, I'm taking on blogs. Recently, a friend of mine commented that she hated her blog, and it came as no surprise to me, because nearly everyone I know who has a blog hates it. Of course, there are bloggers who get paid to blog, and bloggers who have one particular subject they're passionate about and seem to be happy writing about, and bloggers who simply seem to journal online and be fine with it. Some of the most successful of these include naked pictures of themselves, which raises a whole different set of questions. And some include details of their sex lives; in fact, some serious litigation and some Capitol Hill firings recently followed the disclosure by one Congressional aide, on her blog, that another Congressional aide she'd spent some time with like to spank her.
But those seem to be the exception. These days, it seems that the average person has a blog. It also seems that the average person has no idea what to DO with said blog, and fluctuates between annoyance that he has this blog that he's now obliged to keep up with and guilt that he doesn't blog more often.
Interestingly, it appears that no one ever reads, or even sees, most blogs. If you check out the pages you'll find that the vast majority of blogs you find when flipping through blogger or a similar system have no page rank, and that Google hasn't even indexed them. That means no one even knows they're there, unless the blogger has sent out links. Often, he hasn't, because a lot of people seem to be embarrassed by their blogs, when they're not busy being irritated that they have them or shamefaced that they haven't posted in so long. So the source of the guilt associated with not posting is a bit questionable--it isn't as if there's an audience out there who's being let down.
On the other hand...the blogger isn't a blogger without blogging, right? And the prospective blogger must have thought he had something to say when he started the blog, or he wouldn't have taken the time to choose the colors and set up the blogroll and create his log-ins and slect the settings and all that, right?
So go ahead. Post.
No one's looking, anyway.
Today, I'm taking on blogs. Recently, a friend of mine commented that she hated her blog, and it came as no surprise to me, because nearly everyone I know who has a blog hates it. Of course, there are bloggers who get paid to blog, and bloggers who have one particular subject they're passionate about and seem to be happy writing about, and bloggers who simply seem to journal online and be fine with it. Some of the most successful of these include naked pictures of themselves, which raises a whole different set of questions. And some include details of their sex lives; in fact, some serious litigation and some Capitol Hill firings recently followed the disclosure by one Congressional aide, on her blog, that another Congressional aide she'd spent some time with like to spank her.
But those seem to be the exception. These days, it seems that the average person has a blog. It also seems that the average person has no idea what to DO with said blog, and fluctuates between annoyance that he has this blog that he's now obliged to keep up with and guilt that he doesn't blog more often.
Interestingly, it appears that no one ever reads, or even sees, most blogs. If you check out the pages you'll find that the vast majority of blogs you find when flipping through blogger or a similar system have no page rank, and that Google hasn't even indexed them. That means no one even knows they're there, unless the blogger has sent out links. Often, he hasn't, because a lot of people seem to be embarrassed by their blogs, when they're not busy being irritated that they have them or shamefaced that they haven't posted in so long. So the source of the guilt associated with not posting is a bit questionable--it isn't as if there's an audience out there who's being let down.
On the other hand...the blogger isn't a blogger without blogging, right? And the prospective blogger must have thought he had something to say when he started the blog, or he wouldn't have taken the time to choose the colors and set up the blogroll and create his log-ins and slect the settings and all that, right?
So go ahead. Post.
No one's looking, anyway.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
So the thing is...knitting is ruining the world
A year or so ago, my sister took up knitting in earnest. If you're having visions of those "lovely" afghans grandma used to make everyone for Christmas...add a factor of ten. For a long time, she knitted only prayer shawls. Then she taught my daughter to knit. The two of them set to work knitting hats for homeless infants (I swear), which was nice, and when my sister would babysit for me I'd come home to find them both asleep in my living room, cuddling their knitting needles--which was not so nice.
Time passed. The knitting continued, but the fervor died down. And then I got a Christmas letter from an old friend, and he mentioned that his wife--a government lawyer--was running a yarn co-op. I made a conscious decision not to think through what that might be.
But this morning, the line was crossed. I'm a big fan of humor columnist Barb Cooper. I know, I know--she's awfully positive for a girl like me, but what can I say? She's smart and she's a mom, and she has an incredible way of pointing out the humor, the irony, and even the hope in those little moments we tend to gloss right over in life.
Until today.
This morning, I dropped by the So the Thing Is Blog (which, I might add, I was DELIGHTED to see being regularly updated for the first time in...ever), and...
it was about knitting.
Not the whole blog, of course, but there are. Um. Photographs of yarn.
I blame the Yarn Harlot.
Time passed. The knitting continued, but the fervor died down. And then I got a Christmas letter from an old friend, and he mentioned that his wife--a government lawyer--was running a yarn co-op. I made a conscious decision not to think through what that might be.
But this morning, the line was crossed. I'm a big fan of humor columnist Barb Cooper. I know, I know--she's awfully positive for a girl like me, but what can I say? She's smart and she's a mom, and she has an incredible way of pointing out the humor, the irony, and even the hope in those little moments we tend to gloss right over in life.
Until today.
This morning, I dropped by the So the Thing Is Blog (which, I might add, I was DELIGHTED to see being regularly updated for the first time in...ever), and...
it was about knitting.
Not the whole blog, of course, but there are. Um. Photographs of yarn.
I blame the Yarn Harlot.
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