Moving Day

Just when I'm getting comfortable with my cozy little place here in the intertubes, my Administrator tells me I need to go public. WTF? I thought this was public.. But no. Not public enough for my Administrator. He has faith in me. Why, you might ask? I'm not really sure, because he hasn't read my "fiction," doesn't read "poetry," and isn't terribly interested in politics--my bread and butter, or cornbread and cantaloupe, to be more accurate. When we were first getting to know each other, in the way one gets to know someone you've never actually seen, I decided to share with him one of my "Aging Barbie" pieces--he hated it. I mean really hated it. He thought I was so full of shit. We argued about it for days.

Another thing he hated about my writing was my "over use of the expletive." He said something like, "You're a better writer than that; you don't need that." Well, honestly, I can barely write a sentence without the swear words. I thought it would be like writing wearing a straightjacket. I should have said, "You hate what I write, how can you say I'd be a better writer?" Well, it turns out, he doesn't really hate how I write, so much as he hates what I write about. "There's a difference?" Yes, Dorothy, there is a difference.

Here's another thing about my relationship with my Administrator--in his world, I'm so dumb, most of the time I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about. ULR? This means something? Some of your sites require registering, and still I don't know how to type my ULR thingy into the required field. I think at Unconventional Conventionist, it still says in my ULR field, "what the fuck's a ULR?" Maybe at Jonestown, too. So, have I come a long way, baby? Not really. Seven months into this adventure and I still don't know what any of the serious smart blogger things are, or how to do them. I can write my daily post, but unlike the rest of you blogging artists, I can't illustrate it, or drop in the perfect clip, or link it, to back up what I say with source material, or photoshopped images, or music clips. I'm an amateur when it comes to the tricks of the trade, and many of you have tried to help me. I thank you all for your generosity and kindness, but I'm the sort of woman who hasn't read instructions since I stopped taking tests in college. So, to translate words in an email into performing a trick like the strike-through, is like pulling a rabbit out of a hat--beats me how it's done. But I do appreciate the magic of it all.

The loveliest thing about my Administrator is his generosity and patience. He has come to understand the way my brain works and doesn't work. Certain things, I'll probably never quite understand. But the beauty of having someone like my Administrator, is that when I'm stuck, and my brain is bipolarly scrambled, he just comes over to my side of the screen and does it for me. Sometimes we Ichat. Sometime we chat voice to voice, and sometimes he just comes right over to my side and takes over the controls and does it for me, while I sit back and watch. Magic! It's nothing short of Magic to me. My dog, Cyrus, thinks my computer is a person, since I spend some time talking to it everyday, and it talks back to me. Roscoe, who I babysit most days, thinks we have been invaded by the invisible man, and barks ferociously when Phillip comes in to talk with me, and has to be put outside for the duration.

All this to simply say, I am now at netvibes. This is an "rssfeed," whatever that means. Nice thing about the new sites, is that they all lead back home, where I'm just getting cozy. But now I'm building a real identity at Face Book, using my real name and all--scary stuff. He insists I should have a My Space page--I thought My Space was for teenagers, but no, Martin Scorsese is there. Who knew? So netvibes it is. Look out world, here I come! Thank god no one can see me.