Is There Anybody Out There?

I've only been doing this blog thing for about a month now, but already I'm starting to get concerned. I don't think anyone is reading this. Blogger is supposed to be the internet springboard for launching my writing career, but it can't be if people don't read my blog. Maybe someone out there in cyberspace is reading this right now. If so, drop me a line or a comment. Please?

I'm sure it's a little intimidating to read someone's new blog and be the first one to post a comment, especially if you don't feel you have anything important to add. All I ask from you is a "lol" here or there, or an "atta boy, keep up the good work!" every now and then. Heck, I'd even take a "this blog sux" right now. At least it would mean that someone was reading this crap.

I asked one or two people at the Lob to read my blog, but I don't want to seem desperate by bugging everyone there all the time--hell, we've got work to do. "Did you read it? Didja? Which one did you like? All of them??? Great! Guess what? I'm turning in my two weeks notice because I'm gonna be on Oprah next month to advertise my memoir for her book club..." and other imagined conversations go through my head while I push buttons on the microwave and put plates in the window. It's a shame I hardly ever really talk to anyone there.

Jeff, from work, told me I should spam a bunch of message boards with things such as: "LOOKING FOR THE NEW AGE FOLK??!? CHECK IT OUT AT HTTP://NEWAGEFOLK.BLOGSPOT.COM!!!," but I'm not that desperate yet. It's only been a month since I started. And really, isn't the true test of how great a writer I am is by how many hits I get? I'm sure one day I will wake up and there will be a million hits and my blog will be featured on Blogger, or something. And then I'll get a call from Oprah's assistant saying "We'd love to have you on our show! You absolutely must come to Chicago, don't worry, we'll pay for everything! When can we expect you?" And then I will be listened to. Then I will have an audience to talk to.

I keep telling myself I'm only 27. My time will come. I have to keep working on my blog since it's the only thing keeping me from going insane working as a line cook at a record-breaking seafood restaurant here in Iowa. There's a reason [ed.- Because 'This blog sux!!!'] I'm still working at the Lob fantasizing about the future, but my time will come. My time will come. Surely I'm not just another brick in the wall.

Peace.