Curmudgeon

I’m not quite 38 and yet here I am, having one of those ‘back in my day’ old people moments. I’m scanning through my reader and noting that almost everyone’s posts show up accompanied by a picture for a thumbnail and not only was there no such thing as a reader back when I was first blogging, this whole ‘add pictures to your post to drive traffic’ thing wasn’t a thing, either. Heck, I seem to dimly remember you had to figure out how to add something to your blog that would track traffic for you in the first place.

I don’t want to have to attach a picture to my posts. There’s usually not a pertinent picture for what is mostly navel-gazing, anyway, and I’ve been left behind in aspects of modern life and technology – by which I mean I still don’t have a smart phone.* So I’d have to dig out our actual camera and I’m not a photographer so it’s not like the results of that are gonna look great, anyway. (And there’s not much in my life that would look good getting photographed, either, so there’s that.)

The emails I get from wordpress make me feel like I’ve got a salesperson standing over me while I write in my journal and I’m just like GET AWAY this is private even though I’m totally putting this on the internet where anyone could see it (even though not many will so really, it’s still pretty private).

Part of me wants to accept these tips from the annoying wordpress salesperson hovering over me, because I’m a writer and I want an audience, dammit – and another much larger part is reminding me that I don’t want to turn this form of journaling into something that feels like a chore or I’ll just stop altogether. Instead I’m thinking of it like a message in a bottle, cast out into the ocean. That fits the emotional theme of my life right now, anyway.

Digression: it’s kind of nice that my brain is now conjuring an image of me stranded on an island putting messages in bottles, because in 2015 it felt like I was in the middle of the ocean at night with no way to know which direction land was in, just trying to stay afloat. At least now my brain is conjuring images of me with something under my feet, even if I’m still surrounded by water. Progress!

*We were poor and had to cut expenses and so we got rid of our cell phones, back before they’d become such an ubiquitous part of life on planet Earth. Now we’re just using prepaid minutes on trac phones from walmart and discussing getting a smart phone after we move to Indiana this summer.

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