They Say It's Your Birthday

So happy birthday to ya, little omegablog. I can't believe you're a year old already. Seems like only yesterday you were just a gleam in your daddy's eye, and now . . . well, now you're a gleam in your daddy's other eye. He must be mighty proud. But wait. Here he comes now, so let's just ask him, shall we?

Virtual Interviewer: "Hello. We were just talking about you. Your blog is a year old today. How do you feel?"

Jeff: "I'm happy about it. I wasn't planning to write every day, or every weekday anyhow. I'm glad it worked out as well as it did. Proof of concept, you might say."

Virtual Interviewer: "That's perfectly understandable. The proof is in the pudding. But tell me, how did this whole thing come to be? What possessed you, and why?"

Jeff: "What possessed me? Well, I needed writing samples. People were always asking me for samples of my writing, because when you say you've written stuff, they always ask you what sort of stuff you've written, and then they laugh when you say you can't remember. They call you a liar, and say you're insane, and then they get up and walk out. So I needed samples. No, I'm just kidding about that last part. I did need writing samples, though. I'm not so sure about the pudding . . . "

VI: "That's very funny. So you thought a blog would be a good way to do that?"

Jeff: "Yes. Well, no. Not exactly. My first blog was just supposed to be a place for old poems. Stuff I'd written in my early twenties and had never done anything with, you know?"

VI: "So you figured you might as well collect them in a blog, for posterior?"

Jeff: "You mean posterity? You said posterior, but I don't think that's what you really meant."

VI: "I'm quite serious about that, actually. I read them, and I just wanted to cram them up your . . . "

Jeff: "Alright, I get the picture. Wow. They weren't that bad."

VI: "So continuing on, you put a bunch of old poems in a blog somewhere, and then what? I mean, I don't see a lot of poetry in the Omegaword blog."

Jeff: "Right. I decided to start another blog. The one you're reading now."

VI: "What do you mean? I'm not reading anything. I'm asking you questions, and you're answering them. Why do you say I'm reading?"

Jeff: "I wasn't referring to you."

VI: "Who then? There's no one else here!"

Jeff: "Well, there's a whole 'nother level of awareness out there. It's a bit hard to explain to someone who's really nothing but the product of my own . . . "

VI: "Right. I had an uncle like that. Woo. Wooooo . . . "

Jeff: "Whatever. So when I started this blog, I figured it would be about grammar, mostly. Things to avoid, tips on writing, examples of common errors. Stuff like that. But it wasn't much fun, and besides, there are plenty of language technicians out there already. So I decided to just write about whatever happened to pop into my head at the time."

VI: "Evidently. And you thought this would make you famous?"

Jeff: "I didn't say that. I just needed writing samples, and besides, it's good to write every day. Practice, and all that. I figured I'd just do it for a little while, and then I could give people the blog address if they wanted it. I certainly never thought I'd be famous."

VI: "I see. But I imagine the temptation is there, isn't it? To tell everyone how famous you are, I mean."

Jeff: "What?"

VI: "Never mind. So there you were, just writing about whatever happened to float through the vapors of your mind. And now here we are, a whole year later. That's a long time to sit around pretending to be a writer, isn't it?"

Jeff: "That's really . . . you know, I'm not sure this is going particularly well. I was just walking by, and you grabbed me and started asking questions. I don't even know you. The thing is, words don't just magically appear on the screen. There's more to it than just sitting around."

VI: "I see. Perhaps we should move on. You pride yourself on being a journalist, and yet you have absolutely no credentials in that regard. How do you sleep at night?"

Jeff: "Now wait just a minute. I've never called myself a journalist, so there's no way I could be feeling any pride about it. In fact, I've always said exactly the opposite. I said I don't want to be a journalist, more than once I think. Where do you get this stuff, anyway?"

VI: "That's for you to know, and me to find out."

Jeff: "What? That doesn't even make sense!"

VI: "Mmmmm. Continuing on, I'm sure everyone would like to know who's paying you to write this stuff. Are you willing to name your handlers?"

Jeff: "Handlers? No one is paying me! I like to write. I like words. I try to treat it as if someone were paying me to do it. I sweat the details, sure. That's just me. But no one pays me, and no one tells me what to write, or how to write it."

VI: "Uh huh. Would you say you're anal, then? Always trying to fix little things that aren't broken?"

Jeff: "What is wrong with you?"

VI: "I know you are, but what am I?"

Jeff: "This is crazy."

VI: "I see. By the way, who writes those so-called news blurbs over there on the right? They don't seem very relevant sometimes."

Jeff: "Oh for . . . I don't control those! I just pick the search phrase, but it all comes from Google. That's why they're called news blurbs. Get it?"

VI: "Tell me about your mother."

Jeff: "Yeah, I saw Blade Runner, too. Ha ha."

VI: "You seem hostile."

Jeff: "Great. Now I'm hostile. Can we just get on with it? I have things to do."

VI: "Oh, of course you do. Your widdow bwog. Does him have to go and wite in his pwecious widdow bwog?"

Jeff: "What the . . . this is ridiculous!"

VI: "Yes, your majesty."

Jeff: "That's it."

VI: "Where are you going?"

Jeff: "You're an idiot."

VI: "Come back! We weren't done!"

Jeff: "No, we're done."

VI: "Wait!"

Jeff: "Moron!"

Ha ha ha ha ha ha! That certainly went well. But no worries; I have the feeling he'll be back. He needs us, and besides, what else is he going to do? Be an astronaut? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha . . .