Because the internet needs more drivel, right?
Unfortunately, this isn’t, technically, new drivel. This is just old drivel in new bottles. Lo, back when mammoths roamed the land and myspace was just starting out, rather than being the left-over relic it apparently is now, a friend in Glasgow emailed me to say he had started a blog on there and it was quite funny and I should go read it. And I did, and it was, and I showed it to another friend, in Dublin, and she agreed, but with the caveat that she reckoned both of us* could well be just as funny. In fact, she suggested we both have a shot at writing, every day, using only things that had happened in our daily lives as material, and see if we couldn’t be.
*(Seeing as we were aspiring chick-lit writers and all. Well, she aspired to chick-lit; I aspired to, erm, zombie novels, but I just finished one last week and it appears horribly… chick-lit-y. Oh isn’t it hilarious how things work out in the end.)
It was a terrible idea, and I am a very shy person, but we set to at once. She immediately got banned from using the internet at work, so I soldiered on nobly, alone, in her honour – mainly because I had just moved from Ireland to rural Yorkshire courtesy of a horrible break-up (read: one wherein Beshemoth was the one being financially hosed) and had nothing better to do. Well, nothing that didn’t involve spending money. Which I had none of.
Somehow along the way, that turned into an event that happened five years ago. And yet, three countries later, I’ve been faithfully keeping up the daily drivel ever since.
Until last night, when they changed the settings and I discovered I couldn’t backdate any more. Being disorganised, this was terrible news. You would think, I would be relieved to set down this terrible, self-imposed burden, but no, I was in from a shatteringly long day and a bout of viral giddiness and promptly declared that this was Not Over (dammit) and I would Find A Way, (by god)!
Which is the form most of my more asinine ideas take.
However. This seems to be a more… mature? Professional? set-up; certainly, the comparison page went into raptures about how great its hit-counting system is (I can count to zero all by myself, thanks, software!) And in all likelihood it does not need drivel of this calibre. But having got this far it seems a pity to waste it, as Rabbit said when Winnie the Pooh got stuck in his front door. Maybe I shall have to develop a new maturity and style to reflect this, which is a shame because my schtick seems to be all about the incompetence of someone who is old enough to know better.
Besides, I figure this could fulfil two purposes:
1. if I ever get hit on the head hard enough to develop amnesia, perhaps some helpful person can point me at it, so I can gawk in horror at the person I used to be and vow to use my time more profitably this time around.
2. I’m sure there was something… no, it’s gone.
On the other hand, perhaps backdating is impossible here too! Then I shall delete this whole profile and save the world from, er, me.
Right. Time to embarrass myself in front of an entirely new audience. If there is one.