below is the transcript of a conversation i've totally made up.
it's a conversation between me and...well...you.
in this case, you = the Collective Lot of Invisible Internet Friends, or, you know, "Cliif."
i think this means i've officially gone off the deep end of the blog ocean, but whatever. we knew it was coming.
Cliif: kristy, i notice you haven't been blogging much lately. don't you understand that if you don't post things regularly, i'll get bored and leave you, never to return?
me: i do know that, i'm sorry, it's just --
Cliif: don't apologize, just bear in mind the age-old question: if a blog is published in a forest and no one is there to read it, does it even exist?
me: wow, cliif, that's kinda heavy. i mean, are you asking me to consider how the advent of personal blogging has subverted the natural relationship between author and reader, challenging more traditional notions of literary genre and its dependence -- geez, even its very defintion -- on audience? because certainly blogging puts things in a new--
Cliif: christ, no, kristy. i meant you should just post more often. preferably with pictures of your ass. or your hot friends.
Cliif: so what's the hold up?
me: um. well, that's the thing. i have sort of started seeing someone.
Cliif: hahahahahaha! that's a good one.
me: well it's not like, serious or anything...
Cliif: wait, you're not kidding?
me: no. thanks for the encouragement, though.
Cliif: oh whatever. so when did this happen?? and wait -- why haven't you said anything??? i thought that's what i was here for!
me: yeah i know, but um. well, it's just that every time i've ever mentioned a guy to you, things haven't worked out.
Cliif: oh i see. yes, yes, that's very logical...
me: you're being sarcastic.
Cliif: of course i'm being sarcastic. but since you mention it, why ARE you telling me about him?
me: well, when i mentioned my blog to him, he--
Cliif: you told him about your blog!?!? have you not been paying attention at all!?!? honestly, kristy. the rule is that you do NOT tell the guy about your blog before you tell me about the guy. isn't that what we discussed?
me: i know, i know. but--
Cliif: you met him online, didn't you?
me: what's that got to do with this?
Cliif: i knew it.
me: just wait a second. sheesh. yes, i did meet him online but no, i didn't go searching for him. i cancelled my online personals subscriptions and i stopped posting ridiculous things on craigslist, just as i said i would. and i even thought all my craigslist posts had expired. really i did. but then out of the blue i got this like, "late entry" from a guy who sounded pretty great. it came through an hour before the post expired.
Cliif: that's great. i might even say that's conspicuous timing, but i don't know anything about this guy yet, so i'll hold off on my judgments. and anyway, this doesn't explain why you told him about me.
me: well, i didn't exactly PLAN on telling him about you. i mean, we exchanged emails and briefly chatted on the phone and agreed to meet. and i didn't mention you at all.
me: until he started talking about comedic writing.
Cliif: wait wait wait. he just happened to be talking about comedic writing? before you told him about me? why?
me: well, that's what he does. i mean, sort of. like me, he has a very respectable day job, but also like me, he would rather be a professional comedic writer.
Cliif: so he's funny?
me: yes. and actually, he moonlights as a stand-up comedian. did you not see the title of this post?
Cliif: no, i ignore those.
me: aww, man.
Cliif: get over it.
Cliif: oh, but i get it now! "so a stand-up walks in," eh?
Cliif: in where?
me: in where? so you don't actually get it at all.
Cliif: guess not.
me: see, i was trying to like, have it sound like the opening line to a joke. get it? but the rest of the line is open for interpretation, in a cool and vague way. meaning like, i dunno. this guy has walked in...into the picture? or...into a bar? or... into my life?
Cliif: a bar or your life? aren't those the same things?
me: very funny.
Cliif: see? i could be a comedy writer, too.
me: that's very meta.
Cliif: no one likes it when you use terms like that, you know.
me: fine. whatever. are we done here?
Cliif: absolutely not. i want to know what you told him about me.
me: i just told him that i enjoy writing for comedic effect but that i am not brave enough to do stand-up, so i pour my energies into entertaining invisible internet people.
Cliif: uh huh. and does he know you have made-up conversations with me, too?
me: hmm. he will now, i guess.
Cliif: oh, so he reads you? and he doesn't think you're crazy?
me: no, he knows i'm crazy. i believe what he actually said was that i have "more than a passing acquaintance with Crazy."
Cliif: he's right, you know.
Cliif: hey, i should know.
Cliif: so does he think you're a big dork for having a blog?
me: you know, i'd think you of all people would be more sensitive to my blogging. and anyway no, he doesn't. in fact, he even has a blog himself.
Cliif: get out! is it any good?
me: of course it is. he's just started it, though, so it's still pretty new.
Cliif: uh, link please.
me: here you go.
Cliif: so you're really seeing this guy? The Comic?
me: it would so seem.
Cliif: wonders never cease.
me: nice attitude.
Cliif: hey, i've seen your fridge.
me: oh, right.
Cliif: yeah. and anyway, none of this explains why you haven't been posting for the last couple weeks.
me: *blush* actually, it does. between work and um...well, quite a few late nights...
Cliif: oh really!? late nights, huh? well, hello! details!
me: *gasp* never! a lady doesn't kiss and tell. ( or, you know, make out and tell...)
Cliif: "make out?"
me: shhh. yes. now shutup.
Cliif: oh whatEVER. and since when did you become a "lady"?
me: hey! i have standards.
Cliif: need i remind you of the boxed wine and straw incident?
Cliif: okay then fine, i won't. but you'd better get to posting again about something. because Comic or no Comic, standards or no standards, if you don't shape up, i'm soooo outtie.
me: uh, did you just say "outtie"? because that is seriously outdated.
Cliif: hey. don't blame me. blame the chick at the keyboard.