Wednesday, December 13, 2006

What is wrong with me Part 46830238740234

I have a thing against free registration for stuff. I still poach Pony Express' login for the New York Times. It's the New York Times for cripes sake! Everyone with an e-mail has a login. I just don't like it in principal or something. I know it's a marketing tool and they're trying to figure out who is reading what and why and then beyond that they're trying to numb us to the login process and hook us with the free reads so we'll be willing to lay down the subscription price for the archives and whatever else is behind door number three. And I am above that!

Right.

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I paid for and drank a humongous hot chocolate because I forgot that Tall = Small and Venti = Swimming Pool in a Cup not the other way around?

I am not above anything.

I have a mental block. You have to sign in to comment on Dooce and Suburban Bliss these days. It's for good reasons, those ladies write very personally and they have gotten some comments and some repeat commenters who are hostile and potentially dangerous as well as being a total downer so they took action. They took control of their own respective corners of the internet. As well they should, blogs are personal opinion and part of the draw is that you get to do whatever you damn well please on them.

I don't comment on Dooce or Suburban Bliss anymore.

Ridiculous, right?

Every couple of months Kristen at Debaucherous and Dishevelled threatens to go anonymous or password protected or something. At some point in the process she changes her mind and goes back to public blogging. I'm never sure entirely why. I'm also not sure why I'm reacting to her most recent decision since part of me expects her to go public again but I am. Possibly because I wanted to say something very touching about toilet paper giving on Suburban Bliss last week but was too stubborn to sign in. Anyway, before I read anything about any incident Kristen made the page password protected and I got mad. She says she's gotten threatening phone calls, why would it make me mad that she protected herself from that? I don't know, I'm an idiot.

She's one of a number of bloggers with whom I disagree a lot, or think they're perfectly nice people but I'd probably better not have dinner with them in person at any point, but who I'm still drawn to read. I told Chili about being incensed by someone else, probably Manda or Katie, and she was all, "So don't read." I couldn't stop, I'm hooked, I'm invested in the story now and the story is someone's life. But I'm too stubborn to e-mail Kristen and get the password and keep reading the story.

All in all this seems like a win for Kristen, doesn't it? Maybe all these other people that I can't stop reading and disagreeing with should go protected too. (I do not, generally, use their comments sections to voice my disagreement. 90% of the time I keep it to myself and when I don't I only comment if I can phrase it nicely and ideally constructively. I hope that's how those comments come across, but it's a 2 way street so there are no guarantees about how they're received.)

I think that part of me thinks that she won't send me the password or that I'll register to comment on Suburban Bliss and get a nice note from Logan saying, "Please don't come around here anymore." I mean, after all, these blogs get tens to hundreds to thousands of commenters and readers. These blogs are the proverbial cool kids table and why would anyone want me at the '09er table? I can't afford my share of pizza every day. I don't have a Sidekick. I don't wear my little league jersey ironically. Who cares what I think?

Which brings me to another reason I don't sign up. The whole signing in process is to make people stop and think before they comment in anger or with malice. It's a teeny tiny version of the waiting period before you buy a gun. My brain already thinks before a comment. My brilliant toilet paper gift comment was about one line long and crafted to seem like the cleverest of throw away mentions about the topic (ha!). I worked on it for almost 10 minutes before I hit the comment button. (I know, how pathetic, huh?) Then I got the sign in page and I thought, "Oh god, so not worth it, nobody cares that you think toilet paper is the kindest of gifts. You don't think in the 700 comments on this post already someone else hasn't said that better and far earlier? Right. Move along." So I did.

I realize the rejection is all in my head. I get this. But visceral response, not getting past it, blah blah blah therapy cakes.

But....you know what I mean, right?

1 comment:

  1. I think I know what you mean. I'm pissed off about everything about blogging (again). The only thing that make sense to me some times is writing. Obviously I am still reading some of my A list blog buddies.

    In my case, it's my problem. I'm almost at the plug pulling stage again, but the holidays are a bad time for making such decisions. A bad time for transit strikes too. (Guess I've been coming by here exactly a year, huh?).

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