I’m SO that kid. My husband had to dissuade me from sharing my greatest hits of general humiliation and embarrassment in a new post. I think he is worried that eventually I will have overshared to such an extent that I will not be able to look anyone in the eye at family reunions.
But I can't help it. Having people call me amusing, even if they are just being nice or humoring me, is like a strange kind of crack. Because in real life? Nobody ever calls me funny, unless they are doing it in that pitying tone, "Oh, Sue, you're so funny." And what they mean is, you are the dorkiest dork that ever dorked.
I love blogging, but I tend to do it hit and run style - late at night, off the top of my head, blurt it out before I think it through and hit post. (And yes, mean person who emailed me, this is why I don't bother with appropriate grammar and tenses - because I don't CARE. It's a blog. And yes, if it will help you to sleep better at night, I DO bother with appropriate punctuation and avoid run on sentences in the writing I do on the professional side. I KNOW the injustice of the fact that people pay me to write is killing you. Deal with it.)
But internet, after I hit post? I worry. I worry about the lameness of what I've posted.
I don't care what people think if I've just written something not meant to be amusing, like my dog died (although let's be honest, that would amuse me), or somebody got sick. But when I've written something that I'm hoping will seem slightly funny I get all whackadoodle crazy about it after I post and will start driving my husband nuts until I get a couple of comments.
This is a pretty typical example of what my husband goes through:
This is me yelling downstairs from up in my office: “Hey, hon, did you read my post?”
This is my husband, downstairs in the living room: “Yes.”
“Was it funny?”
“Was it really funny, or sorta funny, or just funny because you love me, or really sort of lame but you don’t want to hurt my feelings or just the dumbest thing ever?”
“It was funny.”
“Did you laugh?”
Silence. I hear him giggling.
"That's what she said." (He's been hitting The Office reruns again, I can tell.)
"Come on - on a scale of 1 to 10, how funny?”
“I don’t know. A six?”
“Maybe a seven.”
“You thought it was lame.”
“I'm TRYING TO WATCH PRISON BREAK.”
“Oh. O.k. Alright… But honey?”
“WHAT?!!!” I can hear him mumbling something about marrying a crazy person.
"What did you just say?"
“I can tell you think it was the dumbest post ever. I'm going to take it down.”
Groaning noise. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on a technical proposal?”
“Oh, I am. I am. I just – I wrote that blog post earlier. Now I'm working. I’m not – I’m not just up here writing blog posts.”
“You’re a grown woman, you can do whatever you want.”
“I know but…. I’m not blogging is all.”
“So basically, you thought it was funny?"
So I'm pretty much driving him crazy. I can't help it. I have to CHECK with somebody. Because when I tell a joke in real life, it's always the same - with the awkward silences and the courtesy laughs. That's kind of what it's like when there are only three or four comments on a post. You know you bombed. So thank you, my friends, for humoring me and leaving a comment anyway. Because my self esteem is a fragile, fragile thing, and I'm more like a trained comment monkey every day.
What I want to know is - are you all a little nutty about comments too? Do you think it's the positive feedback that keeps us all blogging? Is it sad that the validation of a "tee-hee" or a "ha ha?" can be so very cool? (Don't answer that. If that's pathetic, I don't want to know.) Or are you SO cool that you don't care if people comment or not?
P.S. If Sarah Hollywood ever dies (not that I want her to die, good heavens), I am totally stealing her "COMMENT OR DIE" graphic. Sorry Sarah, that probably came out way creepy. I meant it in the most non-creepy, calling-dibs-on-your-stuff way possible.
P.P.S: (The saddest thing that happened to me this month was hearing about DeLurk Day AFTER it happened. The trauma of that moment lives on.)