The insanity that is all of our lives does not aid in alleviating this angst. There are so many people i actually could make hang-out dates with if we had any free time, for example. And i don’t filter out any of the people i have on my f’list (though i often filter communities) but i’ve been bad about commenting.
It is tempting to do a poll to see how many of you actually read this, because clearly i have complexes.
I myself subscribe mostly to the carrier bag theory of blogging, which is that a blog is a shapeless baggy container that will hold just about anything you care to put in it. I've used this blog to discuss books, TV shows, writing, fandom, fanfiction, dental appointments, financial worries, and current affairs, not to mention my various neuroses. At this point, I figure that no one reads all the entries, and that anyone reading it regularly has gotten used to skimming the gold from the dross, for their personal values of "gold" and "dross." A lot of blogs are navel-gazing, or are devoted to what I consider the tedious details of strangers' or semistrangers' lives; I don't read them. But I assume that they serve some purpose for the blogger, or the blogger's friends.Oh, and that interview meme seems to have come back. I suck at coming up with questions to ask people, but ask me anything and i’ll answer.
We all use the telephone. We don't all make the same kind of calls.
I think of my blog as being sort of like my backpack. (Today it's even black, like every single backpack I've ever owned.) It gets beat up, I put anything in it that it can hold, the zipper usually gets broken, and it's useful for pretty much whatever I want to do. Or I'll try to make it useful by sheer force of will, which, come to think of it, is usually how the zipper gets broken.