for whom the blog rolls
so dear readers, it looks like the comments have started rolling in slowly....
i was told by one friend that while this small dark spot in the great wide wilderness of cyberspace had become a staple read, she thought it needed "more sex please". running counter to this suggestion was my cousin M's comment that i came across as "self-obsessed" and was i really "that boring."
so what to do? i find myself in a conundrum...
do i add on the sex and violence in my own personal verbal homage to jerry bruckheimer? or pull back in a virtual coitus interuptus, letting my more sensually inclined readers get their vicarious kicks elsewhere?
honestly, i am inclined towards neither. although perhaps my darling cuz was onto something when she called the blog (or was it me?) "self-indulgent." after all, isnt that exactly what this is? my outlet for self-expression? my world, where everything of any import revolves around me? is this not merely an online version of my little black book?
truth be told, i'm actually not quite sure. there are times when i think of this as a way to let loose my verbal diarrhea. if you dont like it, dont read it...
but then i'll read something like john perry barlow's blog, or baghdad burning, and i wonder about my place in the world and whether it is fair or right (moral, even) to allow oneself the luxury, nay, the novelty, of self-centeredness in a world that is increasingly stricken with strife. is it not my responsibility, not only as a journalist, but as a human being, to write about the sufferings of the world, to tell the stories of those who have no voice? isnt that why and how i justified becoming a journalist in the first place?
i strain to find the answers, but all i keep hearing is cartman singing "uncle fucker" from south park: bigger, longer and uncut...
maybe its the herring... i dont know. right now, all i can hear is birds chirping loudly... am wondering whether i have finally lost my mind. there cant actually be a bird (or birds???) chirping in the air-conditioning ducts??? earlier, i thought i smelt burning rubber/plastic, like in an electrical fire. turns out, it was just coffee (thanks to Katie F.'s finely tuned nasal abilities).
the thing is, if i wanted, i really could "talk about sex, baby". i mean i am going out with a super sexy, intelligent, brilliant and fantastically beautiful woman who simply blows my mind and (get this!) loves me as much as i love her!!!
it's funny, speaking of tashi. she really is everything i have ever wanted or hoped for or desired in a woman. at once a vixen and a dove. sometimes an angel, other times a complete and utter delicious devil... i shall not, however, (despite the requests of my erstwhile college companions and fellow lahoris) "kiss and tell"...
anyway, it's time for me to now head home... am meeting up with LO'B (fellow columbia j-school alum otherwise known as the shadow) to hit the gym...
back to the burn, baby, back to the burn...
more later maybe - if not, i shall see y'all anon.
'o'
i was told by one friend that while this small dark spot in the great wide wilderness of cyberspace had become a staple read, she thought it needed "more sex please". running counter to this suggestion was my cousin M's comment that i came across as "self-obsessed" and was i really "that boring."
so what to do? i find myself in a conundrum...
do i add on the sex and violence in my own personal verbal homage to jerry bruckheimer? or pull back in a virtual coitus interuptus, letting my more sensually inclined readers get their vicarious kicks elsewhere?
honestly, i am inclined towards neither. although perhaps my darling cuz was onto something when she called the blog (or was it me?) "self-indulgent." after all, isnt that exactly what this is? my outlet for self-expression? my world, where everything of any import revolves around me? is this not merely an online version of my little black book?
truth be told, i'm actually not quite sure. there are times when i think of this as a way to let loose my verbal diarrhea. if you dont like it, dont read it...
but then i'll read something like john perry barlow's blog, or baghdad burning, and i wonder about my place in the world and whether it is fair or right (moral, even) to allow oneself the luxury, nay, the novelty, of self-centeredness in a world that is increasingly stricken with strife. is it not my responsibility, not only as a journalist, but as a human being, to write about the sufferings of the world, to tell the stories of those who have no voice? isnt that why and how i justified becoming a journalist in the first place?
i strain to find the answers, but all i keep hearing is cartman singing "uncle fucker" from south park: bigger, longer and uncut...
maybe its the herring... i dont know. right now, all i can hear is birds chirping loudly... am wondering whether i have finally lost my mind. there cant actually be a bird (or birds???) chirping in the air-conditioning ducts??? earlier, i thought i smelt burning rubber/plastic, like in an electrical fire. turns out, it was just coffee (thanks to Katie F.'s finely tuned nasal abilities).
the thing is, if i wanted, i really could "talk about sex, baby". i mean i am going out with a super sexy, intelligent, brilliant and fantastically beautiful woman who simply blows my mind and (get this!) loves me as much as i love her!!!
it's funny, speaking of tashi. she really is everything i have ever wanted or hoped for or desired in a woman. at once a vixen and a dove. sometimes an angel, other times a complete and utter delicious devil... i shall not, however, (despite the requests of my erstwhile college companions and fellow lahoris) "kiss and tell"...
anyway, it's time for me to now head home... am meeting up with LO'B (fellow columbia j-school alum otherwise known as the shadow) to hit the gym...
back to the burn, baby, back to the burn...
more later maybe - if not, i shall see y'all anon.
'o'
posted by Omar at 5:43 PM
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