Keepin’ It Real
So what I did was import the entries that I had from the blog/journal that I had for work over here. There weren’t that many entries because in the industry I am a part of, people look differently at “the blog”.
Aside from the fact that one or two from said industry claim to have actually invented the blog (can I get an eyeroll here?), I have been informed that blogs, in case you didn’t know, are marketing tools to be used to network in your chosen field. Blogs help potential clients get to know you after they read the two-hundred and tenth entry about YOU-YOU-YOU.
Oh my ever-lovin’ HELL.
Lemme tell ya something … blogs (or journals, as we used to know them, what? ten years ago?), on-line diaries, whatever ya wanna call ‘em, are mostly used these days just so that people can see themselves yack.
NO! Wait a minute!
I am as self-centered and as much the Queen of My World as the next person, and I am fully aware that my life is SO INTERESTING that people can’t help but wait in breathless anticipation for my next entry. But when we all first started things were different …
hang on, lemme grab my rocking chair …
we wrote with the intent of sharing our lives and learning about other people’s. Our entries begat comments, which begat entries, which begat even MORE comments.
We sat through hours of labor with each other. We were there for funerals and weddings and divorces and adoptions. We SHARED our lives. We became a part of each other’s lives. We gave other people the opportunity to share in the spotlight once in a while instead of churning out entry after entry like automated brain-dumps.
With that all said, I am fully aware of just how ironic this whole entry is. I am the biggest proponent of and guiltiest of the ME-ME-ME thing.
I came home because I’ve gotten more feedbackin three days here than I ever did in two years in that arena. Self-centered as I am, I NEED to exchange ideas and thoughts with other people.
And incidentally, one does not shit where one eats.
I sometimes get frustrated or down-right ANNOYED at my clients. It just doesn’t do to bite the hand that feeds you, even if it is in the heat of the moment.
And now, I am tired and my fingers are swollen.
Fie on old age.