Cult Of Personality
Fantastic news, everybody: I am now a huuuuuuge star.

Being entirely consumed with this blog as an extension of myself--the source of all my external personal validation in the absence of any ability to spontaneously generate self-esteem due to the lingering traumatic effects of a tragic childhood exposure to Physical Education class--I keep a close eye on my friendly Sitemeter. My mood rises and falls with every swing in readership. On high volume days, everything is fine. On low volume days, the kids get yelled at, the dog gets kicked, food has no flavor and I can't feel the warmth of the sun.

But recently... O Sweet Recently. Every week is a new record visit-count. Every day is a cornucopia of unexpected surprises (completely unlike expected surprise which, let's face it, suck) of daily-visit heights. My Sitemeter graph looks like the EKG of a speed freak, all spiky but elevated, elevated, rising ever higher.

I'm in love with the world and the world is in love with me.

Walking down the street now I will spontaneously burst into song; something peppy and smart usually, like "Stayin' Alive" or "Let's Hear It For The Boy" or "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?" When people stop to look, I'll hold up a hand and wait for the inevitable high five. Sometimes they'll try to shout something to me or gesture at me while I'm skipping and singing, but I just wave back, only interrupting my song long enough to say "Keep reading! Keep reading!" Satisfied and no doubt honored, they walk away. Just knowing I could share some of my brightness and give them the satisfaction of a little celebrity encounter makes me feel great, almost as good as the old days when I used to start every morning with a little Red Bull and black tar heroin.

No more junk for my veins anymore though, no. These days I'm high on life, injecting myself daily with the rush of blog-born superstardom. Thank you, world.

OK. OK, OK. Alright. Fine, you got me. I'll confess, just... stop with the eyes will you? OK? I said I'll come clean.

You want me to say it? I'll say it: I've been to BlogExplosion.

Look, I just tried it that one time. Those other readers meant nothing to me, I swear it. It was all about accumulating blog-hits, I swear that was it. They were using me as much as I was using them. It was purely physical. At least it started out that way, but then I let it go on farther then it ever should and I guess that part of it is my fault. It doesn't mean I don't love you any less, Bucketeers. Those others, they were just... just a need I had at the time. It was something I was going through, but it's over now. It's over. I swear it's over. It will never happen again.

BlogExplosion. What a degrading source of blogger whoredom. I may never live down the shame. For those unfamiliar, visiting other BlogExplosion registered sites will generate reciprocal traffic. They auto-surf you to member sites. A little timer ticks down. For every thirty second visit to one site, you get 0.5 credits. One full credit (two sites visited... still following?) will earn you one full random visit from another BE member trying to run up his/her credits.

Of course in order to kill the time required to get your 30 seconds in, you are not required to look at the blog, just to have the window open. Go ahead, multi-task. Play freecell. Read a magazine. Porn-surf. Read other blogs that you actually know and like in a different browser window. Anything. Just so long as the timer hits 0 and you can collect your half-a-credit and move on.

So my Sitemeter numbers have been... er... slightly... uh... inflated with empty BlogExplosion hits.

But that part of my life is over now. The shame backlash it caused was not anywhere near worth the euphoria of the... gosh, nearly dozens of visits I was getting daily. I was able to muddle through the depths of self-loathing with a little help from Wild Turkey Kentucky Bourbon and Red Bull (that Red Bull... it really goes with anything). At least I think I was able to; I don't remember much since the delirium tremens wore off.

Of course I should allow that it is just possible that all my site visits are being generated by the same handful of people (you know who you are) motivated purely by a desire to see their own comments and the subsequent responses, mixed in with just a tiny splash of collective OCD that keeps them coming back against repeatedly over the course of the same day despite their better judgment.

Self-interest and mental dysfunction...

You know what? I'll take it.

You love me!



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 9.9


Pops

- posted by Pops @ 9:57 AM