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I have said this a couple of times, and I know how appallingly whingey, naive, and vain it sounds, but I am shocked that people read this. No, not my blogging friends, like Elana who often starts conversations with me in reference to something on Pony, or Joey who regularly checks his referer logs.

I started writing stuff on Happyrobot more than 1.5 years ago after I told Rich the robot was sweet, odd, and funny, populated with people I wished were my friends. Rich said that my emails were also sweet, odd, and funny, and that I should post them in a writer-thingy on the robot. I had never heard of the word blog.

Oh yeah, in university I did this BA degree in Creative Writing. But even though I had been regularly writing all my life, it pretty much ground to a halt when I graduated. At that point I was hardly writing anything for pleasure or for commerce.

Something shifted in my wee brain when it dawned on me that goofy stuff I posted was read by a handful of goof-loving people in NYC and NC. And like Jason Kottke wrote a while back, blogging (a word Rich reviles) means your scribblings become content and for reasons still unclear to me, there is something exciting about updating said content with stories, random musings, and links I like. My very own brain dump.

And the whole private-public thing is weird. It is an experiment. It is exhibitionist, academic, fun, pedantic, vain, and gives me the occasional feeling that I am actually producing something other than glorified pixel-pushing.

And a couple of things I have written have REALLY pissed people off. (whaddaya mean you read it online? but I totally veiled your identity...sorta).

But more than that, some things I have written got gorgeous, thoughtful responses that rocked my world. A certain ex-co-worker living in Minnesota's response made me weepy.

And at the risk of sounding pompous, I think we can only understand the the world one story at a time.

But recently, a google search of my full name brings Pony as #1 result. And it kinda wigs me out. Do I want Tiffany from highschool reading my rants? Or my family, for whom the verb to google has entered their daily vernacular?

More on this later.

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Previous Posts
What's a Nice Jewish Girl Doing With a Tree Like This?
How To Celebrate Mother's Day When You've Lost Your Mom
Cassette Players Were A Pain, But There Was Nothing More Romantic Than A Mixtape
The Joys of Raising Your Kid Downtown
The Virtues of the Yoga Date
I Loved Your Wedding But Please Stop Telling Us to Get Married

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