The Thrill Is Gone

I don’t like blogging as much since I discovered that people have been reading specifically to look for things they can try to use against me, by inserting their megalomania into my metaphors. It feels like waking up one morning and finding a ladder propped outside your bathroom window, or having a party and finding an uninvited guest rummaging through your check stubs, or trying on your underwear, or pissing in your sink.

Even password-protecting some posts feels strange; I’ve got to second-guess where others’ agendas might enter into what I write, and therefore, marginally partcipate in issues that are not my own.  And of course, if people really want to feel attacked, just the appearance of a protected post can throw up a red flag, as in, “Omigod!  A password!  She’s writing about ME!”

All I’m trying to do is to write about ME.  But, under the circumstances, I can write so little about me that I’m sort of losing my incentive to do it.

So, help me out:

What do you like about Blahg, anyways? 

Why are so many silent folks reading daily?

Give me some clues, here. 

You don’t have to use your real name, and only I see your e-mail address. I’m wondering if I should just go completely private, and restrict Blahg to my old friends, whose motives I can understand and trust.