It’s time for me to start writing again and this seems as good a place as any. For a long time I wrote under the not so clever pseudonym stupidtom on a variety of platforms. Stupidtom dot com gave me an accurate self-describing domain name before there were all of these confusing choices. (what is .co anyway?) I could also switch platforms with minimal asspain and that was important because I jumped around alot. It just felt safer writing under a pen name. Plus, being an adult with an online diary who isn’t being paid sets off my internal douche chill warning system. I really don’t understand that feeling as I love to read all kinds of nonsense that different people write every day but I am nothing if not confusing to myself.

My web log thing was never a success in my mind because I was never happy with it. Constantly screwing around with the design, and who or what to link to, as well as falling into different writing jags for no reason had me just as confused as my readers. Then throw in the hits, comments, links, and everything else that gives the amateur author validation and it’s easy to spin out of control. Comments, anonymous comments… I finally let stupidtom go when it was no longer fun. I got to a strange place where a bunch of people knew what was going on in my life all the time but I was feeling more isolated. It’s a strange thing when you go to tell a friend a story any they’ve already read it online. No one feels the need to talk to you because they already know what’s going on in your life.

I also hate the term blog and all that it implies. It makes me cringe. The ones I read talk about their real lives. I am a fan of balance. I like to hear about triumph but I also need some tragedy. Real stories are the ones that interest me not the glossy publicity pieces everyone cranks out on Facebook. I like to hear when someone’s mad or something’s screwed up and what is going to be done about it as much as the awesome milestones. I also LOVE to read about the things that people use every day. Not the paid reviews but the stuff they buy with their own money and can’t get enough of or hate so much they want to stomp them into the earth.

I should back up and tell you that I hate Facebook because I am a championship level stalker. I have enough real pictures from my life to act as decoys while I sit in my blind trying to attract people from my past. I want to see what those folks look like. Most of them only include pictures of their kids or vacation shots with no humans in them. Others post pictures of everyone but themselves. That makes me think that they were in some sort of horrible disfiguring accident thus ramping up my overactive imagination. Then when I finally find them they are hiding in the back of a shot due to a few extra pounds since high school. That is truly disappointing because I’m carrying around an extra human being and the silly pattern of hair left on my head goes down the drain every other day with the help of a razor. We are what we are, might as well put it out loud and proud for all to see.

Back to the writing… I love to write. I love to write about nothing and everything. I write about myself because I feel that it’s one of the only subjects that I’m truly qualified on. So if you end up reading my stuff here don’t look for any cohesive theme other than ME. Just a whole big pile of it.

Enjoy it or don’t, either way.

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