heart-shaped diary with a lock


After nearly three years of trying, we finally broke bread tonight with oft-commenter Oliver and his significant Sophie at Pepper’s Pizza tonight, and we discussed, among other things, the role this blog has played in my life over the last insane years. I’ve come to realize that I’m pretty lucky when it comes to disclosure; I could give a fuck what anyone thinks of me via this online journal, and that includes future employers. My rationale is that if they don’t want to hire me because of something on this site, it probably wasn’t going to work out anyway.

There might come a day when I’ll no longer be able to maintain a blog for media/legal reasons, like my friend Dan, who works for a huge entertainment mogul and is thus disallowed to share his opinions on the Web in any incarnation. But until then, I’ll keep writing about poop and farts and Celexa and all the other things that will totally ruin my chances for a strong Senate run in 2008.

Funny how so many people still have no idea what a blog is. Even if you do, there are so many kinds of blogs that it beggars description. Very few people have the luxury I do of being honest, as there is no boss around to fire me, and I stopped being self-conscious of my goofy pictures at some point in 1987.

Those who can’t show themselves yet need a place to vent are nicely represented by The Rude Pundit, as well as someone you know quite well and even someone else you might know.

Another kind of blog is best exemplified by our friend Peter, who doesn’t approach each blog with the Here’s Where I Put My Big Thoughts pretense that I do, but is fabulously entertaining all the same. For instance, I have trouble differentiating between my computer icons too, but I just never thought anyone else was as annoyed by it.

Blogs on specific topics are nice too, like our girl Quinn Cummings (yes, THAT Quinn) and Mac Rogers, who discuss parenting and playwrighting, respectively. If you want some serious histrionics on theater, look no further than my brother Sean’s blog, who can rant the chrome off a trailer hitch (by the way, I also heartily recommend Michelle and Kent’s blogs too, for vastly different styles).

Now, besides crowd-favorite-commenter Caren and her blog that mentions “woke up, put on clothes, went to work”™ every day, I think the best blog on the internet belongs to my 15-year-old nephew Lucas, who may have the most honest, pure journal ever.

I mean, this is someone whose entire post says “I hate the name ‘Morgan’. I’m sorry anyone who is named that.” And gets 17 comments! His group of friends on that blog is quick, supportive, and effusive. The blog’s name is “Concerned (but Powerless)”, which sums up the paradox of this particular brand of teen.

I do wonder if the prolific internetting of these kids is leading to their somewhat flat-affect of real-live interaction, and god knows what will happen to them if the power ever goes out, but fuck, I love reading that blog. It’s like intercepting a cascade of passed notes in biology class.

9 thoughts on “heart-shaped diary with a lock

  1. oliver

    “Oft commenter Oliver”, “long-time commenter Oliver”. I was a “friend” before we met! Anyway, I’m only commenting now to tell you that Sophie and I just escaped from our ropes. I don’t who you guys met, but it wasn’t us, because we’ve been tied and gagged in the basement.

  2. Killian

    Oliver–I live in Chapel Hill, and the only kind of tying and gagging that goes on in the Southern Slice of Heaven is STRICTLY voluntary–teehee– Now that you’re loose, can I meet you and Sophie?
    Ian, thanks for all the links–spent the better part of my morning chasing them down, and am happily recommitted to life on the planet. Lucas particularly rocks–I want my nephews to grow up to be cool like that–but in their own way, of course. Love to the Peanut.

  3. CL

    Awwww, thanks. I don’t know what to say. We in quality control will work harder to keep my word count low and quality high.
    I think “concerned (but powerless)” is about the most brilliant way to sum up the teenage existence ever.

  4. cullen

    talk more about Pepper’s Pizza and pizazz. Many blogizens may not know enough unique pizza dining experiences, exspecially in college dixie. I know of only few in my aggregate NC, the far west (Asheville) , the Triad and Triangle, but my exposure in the past decade has been limited. Annie H. can tell ’em about the old Rose and Thistle back when I-40 ran right through dowtown W-S. Anyway, me and the mrs. sure tithed our share to the spiked and punk-rok doughboys at Pepper’s. What’d you have? I’m hungry now.

  5. pope_ttb_xxx

    More importantly, did the pizza sauce taste different to you? Last time I was there (January), it was much less garlicy than it has been (since 1989, at least).
    I’m assuming it’s connected to having two repub senators.

  6. leftcoasttype

    Quinn here, thanking you sincerely for what my younger friends might call a “Shout out”. Since Xtcian kicked me into gear to start writing again, it seems as if you just keep on giving, don’t you?

  7. Annie

    Cullen–I can’t believe it!! The Rose & Thistle!! Unsung queen of pizza these many years, and now nonexistent. That was seriously the world’s best crust…the deep-dish veggie with eggplant and EVER’thang! Whatever happened to deep-dish pizza?
    Pepper’s, meanwhile, has kept the faith and has kept its food pretty consistent, to my tongue. There was a “sauce change” sometime in the mid-90s, when people cared. I think more sugar was added–that might account for the difference you tasted, pope ttb.

  8. oliver

    Rather than making Ian broker e-mail exchanges for whoever might be interested in a CH meetup, I’ll go ahead and make myself reachable through oliverevilo(at) “hot” (where “hot” = that free service from Microscoft). [I’m a Web paranoiac who’s only on the 11th step to recovery]


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