Every time you post about something horrible, the intrinsic goodness of people comes out.
Trolls, in addition to being lacking in the reading-skills department, are as flinty and irascible as the bridges under which they live.
A post about mascara will get more responses than a post about tragedy.
A post about cats will get more responses than a post about mascara.
A post about phlegm will get the most responses of all.
Neko Case is perfect blogging music.
Sometimes my recipes really do come out right for other people.
People new to this blog tend to read back to 2004, the first year, and draw my attention back to things I'd forgotten. This makes me happy.
Getting angry is fine; *staying* angry is what'll kill you.
Dogs are always good subject matter when you can't think of anything else.
Burnout is okay. It passes.
Contrariwise, sometimes you have to post six times in a day, just because you think of crazy shit that happened at work.
The worst things that happen to you personally (like divorce, breakups, a malicious boss) are the catalysts for the best things to happen to you. No, really.
Some things you can't recover from.
There are things worse than death. GVHD is one of them.
Brain tumors make people say weird, weird shit.
Parents (specifically mine) may not understand why the hell you chose to do this with your life, but they're proud and amazed and sometimes favorably impressed by it.
I'm a better writer sometimes than I thought.
Other times, I look back at what I wrote and cringe.
Life is more like Through The Looking-Glass than anybody will admit. Sometimes you really do have to run as hard as you can to stay in the same place. Luckily, believing six impossible things before breakfast is a talent of mine.
I've made a number of mistakes in my life. Most of them I've written about here. All of them have to do with saying "No" or "Goodbye".
The people you notice the least (housekeeping, pharmacy, nurses' aides, the guy taking tolls at the airport) are the most important people to get to know. They are the people who can make things happen, and without whom the world would stop turning.
There is no excuse for disrespect. Unless they disrespect you first.
Sharpening your tongue is as important as brushing your teeth.
Blogging is all about letting things go without editing. Dooce would probably disagree with me, but that's okay: that's why she has zillion-dollar contracts and I don't.
Blogging is all about stealing ideas from other people.
The Internet is for porn.
My best friends are people I haven't met. Yet.
*** *** *** *** ***
If it weren't for the readers of this blog, I would not be typing this at 0403 on a Friday.
Six years ago, this blog started as a response to a statement Beloved Sister made: "You're really smart. You should write this stuff down." In the six years I've been typing, the responses I've gotten about posts, about style, about content, have made continuing to type a rewarding and challenging thing.
When I'm wrong, there are plenty of people who are quick to correct me. I hope I've been as quick with the mea culpas. When I'm sad or stressed, there are always personal emails waiting in the Jo-Box (no snickers from the Peanut Gallery, please) that give me courage. When I'm right, or when I post about something that I've never seen before, there are people who've done or seen the same things, and make me feel less alone.
What I'm tryin' to say, here, in my sleep deprived state, is that readers and commenters are the reason I blog. It's no longer some huge ego-driven thing; it's more about hearing what other people have to say about experiences that might or might not be common.
Six years on the InterWebs has gotten me friends, boxes of foods I can't get in Darkest Texas, one lover, two cats, and a hell of an email inbox. I've been very fortunate in ending up with some of the smartest, ballsiest, most compassionate commenters I've seen.
Thank you. Thank you.
Onward, then, to the second thousand posts.