I’ve frankly never met a blogger I liked. The first was my cousin’s girlfriend, who wrote avidly about their sex life. Some context. I was 17, as was my cousin, and our hometown hosted the second largest church in Ireland, despite its ~2k population.

Clara, as she was called, liked to share out her blogging link at parties. My cousin’s twelve year old sister was the first in the family to find it. Over a family dinner, some weeks later, my grandmother asked him in an accusatory tone what a cuckold was.

I recall precisely a post describing an instance where my cousin eagerly accepted ‘yes’ before hearing the end of a question she posed; he thought she was proposing. Actually she was asking for some crisps. So he cried a lot when they broke up, in no small part because her visits to his family’s house started to become just a little more than uncomfortable.

I kind of avoided this sphere of the internet after that crude introduction. Okay so she was a unique instance. I’m sure in my city days I met plenty of bloggers, who were wise enough to go about sharing their URL. But it’s true, in about five more instances someone pretty much advertised themselves in person as a ‘blogger’, and a quick visit to their page hours later revealed, in detail, their struggles with crippling depression, or their journey into BDSM, or, in one instance, how much they hated speaking to men.

Wait, that last one. Julie, were you telling me your blog on purpose? What, you think I’m sexist?..

Bitch.

Actually I (think) I read some blogs for a while. Or, I just read some Cracked.com articles. I’m not sure if that counts? But blast those writings for mastering addiction. We’re all addicts, that’s unavoidable. Cracked and their ilk just seem to have conquered that fact. Like you notice everybody in Asia is small so you start selling crowd para-scopes. Savvy bastards.

Has anyone invented crowd para-scopes yet, by the way? Fuck it, if someone can convince you to buy a stick – literally a stick, ‘for selfies, of course’ – then I can sell the world my para-scopes and make millions.

Or maybe – hey, yeah – maybe selfie circles? Like hula-hoops, for selfies. Yes, you’ve guessed it. This is the blog equivalent of Four Hour Work Week. I’ll make you rich, so just send me your money.

My addiction to Crack(ed) came to a swift end when I read David Wong’s 6 Harsh Truths That Will Make you a Better Person.

It might have been the first time that I realised that human beings were writing Cracked.com, that it wasn’t just some sophisticated mega-machine that pumped out lovable lists like Watch Mojo or Steven Spielberg.

I also decided then and there that David Wong is a terrible human being, and I also developed some irrational hatred of Steven Seagal around the same time – probably a coincidence?

And this was my real introduction to blogging. Because Wong’s article created an explosion of other articles from ‘regular’ bloggers attacking 6 Harsh Truths. Then another storm of articles came attacking the attackers of 6 Harsh Truths, – and…

Damn it all, I’ll make the digression. That article was terrible. Okay so a general message saying ‘be more productive’ won’t end all happiness, but – stop bragging that you’re better than me – and stop preemptively attacking your critics.

And you. Yes you. I’m sorry for getting distracted. I had to flair my opinions about this article you probably haven’t heard of. Please don’t read it, that website has enough advertisements to sell you your own left arm. ‘For selfies, of course’.

…. Sorry if you don’t have a left arm… … It’ll be all right.

Anyway, the people who criticised the article became, all of a sudden, hugely popular. As did the ones who criticised the critics. I guess it was so polarising, it created a ‘gap in the market’; people felt so strongly about it that they wanted to read elsewhere where they might affirm their own opinions. Or, refine them – or create if you’re cynical.

Basically, people’s careers were made, by responding to something someone else did.

Kind of like how a few dozen people around the world get to say at parties ‘I call Anita Sarkeesian stupid for a living’.

I sometimes find it funny to think of all jobs as existing despite the worker. Meaning, no one creates their job, they just fill the role. It’s not an accurate way of thinking, but – hear me out, it’s funny. The other day, I was sleeping on a stranger’s couch in France. My genial host , towards the end of the evening, flicked through a few channels on the television, and I quickly noticed, despite all the American movies and shows, there were never any subtitles. All had been over-dubbed.

So it struck me, and my host confirmed it as true – there exists a man whose specific job is to be French Brad Pitt. A fundamental role in global society, is to be French Brad Pitt.

My role? Well actually, I’m not sure yet. This is my first post, so I’ll state outright: I walk. Err, that’s about it? I used to do some video editing on a site called ‘Upwork’; ’tis a place for freelancers. I’ve worked as a waiter, briefly as a construction worker, retailer… Now I just don’t spend money. Or I do, about five euro a day, which comes from my savings – since I’ve always spent far less than the minimum wage.

Don’t mistake me as aimless, however. I may not be French Brad Pitt, whose life goal has so much clarity that he needs never spend a thought on his path. That man is doing his piece, His life is complete.

So I don’t have a voice acting career. But, my mission, my statement: I will walk to Amalfi, in Italy. And I will learn Italian.

But, that’s not for this post.

This post is for… What is this for?

Oh yes, I remember now.

For selfies. Of course.

 

DSC_0019

Advertisements