Blogtastrophe

Blogtastrophe . . . that’s what I call it when one of my entries receives not even a single view.  While this project continues to be something done for myself and my children, the ability to review certain statistics relating to the blog (thanks to the fine folks at Google) makes for a depressing reality check.  Pouring your heart into a written work, only to have it sit upon the bookshelf collecting dust, carries with it an appreciation for the old saying regarding the proverbial tree falling in a vacant forest.  If in fact it does fall and no one is there to hear it, does it make a noise?  The same is true of writing.  If words are written and no one is there to read it, did it really make a difference?  I suppose delayed gratification is the name of the game.  One day after I am dead and gone, I hope my children dust off my tired words and give them a read.  At the very least it should be good for a laugh or two.  Perhaps nothing more than the makings of a simple stroll down memory lane, to a time perhaps long since forgotten.  That is after all, how this all got started.  Now I seem to ramble on aimlessly, simply because I can.  Some form of emotional auto-pilot.  The day has long since come and gone when life seemed to throw an endless chain of curveballs.  Things have settled down and the pitcher’s arm is showing wear.  Lobbing taters over home plate is a fast track to the minor leagues.  We now easily make contact with the ball, and though we aren’t sending them over the center field fence with every “at bat”, we certainly worry less about striking out.

I still write what is in my head, but the theme to me seems repetitive.  Perhaps that is why I have shed the usual recap of daily events in favor of more philosophical content.  I suppose this could be considered another stage in the process.  My life has evolved so much since we made the decision to move to France, that perhaps it is time to move on to the next chapter.  I have come to the realization that this has all happened for a reason and I have a want to share all of the details, but my better judgment says that most would take me for a fool or a madman.  The jury is still out and for now a great number of “posts” that have been written will remain in my private collection.  As for the content of the publicly shared posts  . . . who knows?  I will likely slow down to a weekly or monthly recap and let the passing of time develop the storyline.  In closing for this evening, it is interesting to note that one of my most recent posts has received more traffic in a short period of time than any other I have written.  That post was the one dripping with the word “Fuck”.  Isn’t the internet great?  Apparently all one has to do to appeal to the masses is mix in a bit of the profane.  Perhaps in a coming post I will just throw in this four lettered friend here or there and see if the hypothesis is true.  If traffic increases because of an increase in profanity, then clearly the internet needs an ad campaign.  Maybe the “Truth” folks can shift their focus away from the tobacco industry and lend a hand.  Perhaps something like:  “The internet:  It’s not just for porn anymore!”  Until we meet again.  R.