So..it's St. Paddy's Day today (trust me, I looked it up here, you Patty fans).
Being a good Irish boy, I'm wearing my green. And yeah...the way the day has gone, I'm ready for a nice stiff pint by the time I clock out this afternoon.
I was going to put something in the title of this post along the lines of 'Erin Go Bra-less' or something like that. But then I realized....I know a few too many Erins for that and the last thing I need is them thinking I'm some weird booby-obsessed dude in green. I mean, I might be...but they don't have to think that for heaven's sake.
Anyway. Yeah. So...I'm trying something. Facebook is getting stupidly saturated again. The gnomes that control the News Feed are high I think. The feed is full of religion (don't care)...politics (don't care)...cooking recipes (mostly don't care)...games (don't care)....and the worst. A combination of all three: sensationalist click-bait links (OMG--You will NOT BELIEVE what Obama had to say about the Teletubby Stew Recipe served up a Sunday School!!!)
It's no secret that artists and creative types seek constant external validation. Forget the fact that most of us would just as soon stop breathing as to be deprived of doing something creative/artistic as often as possible. Even if that's true- we still want you to tell us how much you enjoy it when we bleed out our raw thoughts and emotions in whatever medium feels right that day. What?!? It's not some big secret. Not like a magician revealing the trick. It's common sense. Ask us what the last thing we worked on was and you'll see I'm telling the truth. And of the attention-whore artists and creative-types, writers are the worst. We need the validation. OK. That might just be me.
Here's the honest truth. I would write anyway. I do write anyway. When I have no expectation that anyone will read it or give two shits about something if they did read it, I still write. I still have to get that daily transfusion of thoughts and randomness out of my head and on to some kind of page...either electronically or on paper. This is probably best evidenced by my journals scattered around the apartment. Or even the number of blog posts that I've written that I've just written and pushed to the web without going to this social media or that and announcing that 'hey--look at me--I wrote something!!'
Which leads me to this post. Other than boobies...it's really more of an experiment of sorts. I want to see how many people still read this blog. As in, do you make time out of your day to see what kind of random bullshit comes out of my brainbucket?
Is it ego stroking? Maybe. It's also market research. If it's a similar number to when I post to FB, then I'll assume I can stop posting the links to the blog on FB and just write.
If it's a lower number, I might start getting a little more bold in my discourse. Things that my go deeper in to the Mind of Todd.
And if it's a higher number, I'll know y'all are just fucking with me.
Speaking of fucking with me...I've probably gone past my allotted lunch time. So, I'm off to my desk.
Have a great rest of your day.
And remember; if you're lucky enough to be Irish, you're lucky enough.
Whenever I wander back over to the shelf that is this blog, I think to myself, "man...I wonder if anyone still reads this anymore?"...
If the title surprises you, it should. The post that follows saddens me. It saddens me that in this day and age I even have to post somethin...
It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this mornin...
There are roughly three hours left in NaNo. And I'm fried. Not literally because it's Ohio. And it's November. My brain is ki...