Photographer Unknown










In the middle of my working day I log in to this blog to see if anyone has commented, because I have it set up so that they need my approval before they appear on the site. My blog isn’t a forum for spammers or assholes, and this is the only way I know of to keep them out.

Still I’m always a little let down when there are no comments. I might even welcome one from an asshole! Heh.

Josephine, my writing partner over at another blog, is talking about quitting (don’t blame her, as she writes virtually all the entries and I don’t respond to all of them, as she would like me to, because I don’t have time or, frankly, inclination to weigh in on every topic; btw this is the gal who disdains women who proclaim themselves feminists, but may never realize it, let alone admit it) because there is not enough feedback in the form of comments. I tell her that lack of comments aren’t a sign that she has no readers, but do understand her feeling that her voice is disappearing into a void, heard by no one. She wants her writing to be admired. She wants to be admired, noticed, period. Who doesn’t, I guess. I’m just recalling her irritation when she wasn’t asked to sing a solo part in a large choir performance, because a younger woman who sings professionally was asked instead; Josephine wants to strut her stuff and thinks she should’ve at least been asked, that surely her talent must’ve stood out enough to be appreciated.

Sadie started blogging a couple months ago and expects frequent comments from me, though she has not commented even once on my blog. I make a point of commenting as often as I can because all writers need the encouragement (except maybe you, Ms Kathy, because you’ve consistently got lots of feedback on your entries). Sadie is not unlike Josephine, who wonders why so few readers comment on her entries, but can hardly be bothered to comment on someone else’s page. Are people just blind to their own inconsistencies, or what? Do we all expect others to do for us what we are unwilling to do for others? Or is it just the babies of families who are this way (as both Josephine and Sadie happen to be)? We love ’em anyway, but sometimes we (the royal “we” here) do shake our heads.

Back to work. I’m adding hours to my regular schedule, and don’t know how on earth I’ll find them. Laidback as my life is, I’m busy enough and the days fly by. Of course it’s obvious to you that when I should be working, I’m blogging instead. So no wonder, right?