Don't be so optimistic

You say you will not die, I think you're kidding yourself.



Our most recent volunteer writes, about himself, and his blog:

I haven’t summoned the guts to write with my full intellect...but instead, I often succumb to the subtle fear of marginalizing my audience by saying things that I know aren’t popularly read enough to support my own blogging ambitions.

Tell the truth: you hate him already, don't you?

This blog is an excruciating read, exacerbated by advertisements imbedded in every post, and in both sidebars. Jesus Christ on a buttermilk biscuit, I hate this blog. It's smarmy. That's the word for it. Clearly, this dude thinks he's Dave Eggers. And, maybe he is.

But I already struggled through Dave's book, and hence, I'm not at all inclined to brave the blinky ads and self-congratulatory prose you've thrown online like feces on a wall.

So, let's see:

Growing up sucked for you. Join the club. I bet if you put 50 bloggers in a room, you'd find that 40 of them dealt with major shit growing up, and we're still working out our issues online, or we're still in the midst of dealing with serious life issues. You aren't doing anything that other writers haven't done more of, and better.

You have a high IQ. Wow. Color me impressed. If mine weren't similarly high, and if so many of my blogging peers weren't of the same caliber, I'd perhaps think you were something. But, high IQs on the blogosphere are like Abercrombie attire in your local high school...they're everywhere. And, frankly, they don't impress me much.

So, here are some of your issues:

1. You have a fucked up self-perception. You write:

Even so, there is, as there is with many men, a second me. There is a me who wants to run off and conquer lands and pretend I’m king, even if for just a day or two. In other words, I want to make something of myself. I want be somebody. For a long time now, I have been a nobody.

This week though, I am somebody again.

Wrong, Einstein. You were ALWAYS somebody, and you always will be somebody, even if your self-loathing for that person you once were poisons everything you write insidiously. And until you OWN that person you were, and are, and always will be, your blog will always suck. In fact, I bet you were a better person in elementary school than you are today.

Education and a job title don't make you somebody. They are simply what the shallow people use to quantify folks into little boxes of worthy and not worthy.

But, viewing life in that way is inherently wrong. And, if you do become a teacher, you will be an utter dickhead if you continue to hold to that perspective, and you will seriously mind-fuck your students. Frankly, I've read blogs of homeless people that were more substantive and interesting than yours.

2. You need therapy. BADLY. And in your case, no, your blog is NOT enough to compensate for your major issues. You're carrying around your past like a huge trainload of baggage. Guess what? Your life at this point should not be defined by the taped up glasses you wore in elementary school or how much weight you could lift in college. The fact that these things play such a major role in the person you are today is not only uninteresting to read, it's actually disturbing. Your autobiography makes my skin crawl. You remind me of a guy I once dated that had serious mental health issues, verging on narcissistic psychosis.

3. You're still really pissed at your dad, and wow...how long has it been since he died? Ten years or more? When do you think you might, I dunno, make an attempt at getting the fuck over it?

4. We aren't here for self-promoters who don't give us anything. Your "blog" is about getting a book deal or feeding your tremendously hungry ego, but it sure does nothing for me. So, I'd like to tell you as politely as possible to fuck off, because I really am peevish that you submitted this to us.

I like a train wreck as much as the next girl, but I do not like your blog. Maybe some folks will, more power to them. But for me, I find it disturbing, and uncomfortable, and fucking sad as hell. You define yourself by what other people have done to you, and the size of your intellect, and papers you can put in frames on a wall.

I define people by the size of their hearts. The end. And yours, in spite of your determination not to "settle," is strangely shrunken and broken and twisted and dark.

And seriously, fucked up.

I give you this:



If only you had a heart...then you might have a real blog. Also, for being an ad whore who is using our blog for your own filthy lucre without delivering up some substantive goods: