My Fans...

I don't have a counter on this blog, so for all I know three to six people read this thing...or three to six thousand. One never knows. But from time to time I get comments.

Oh, do I get comments.

Some of them are very kind and nice and supportive. They say things like "you're a very good writer" and "keep on trying" and "hey, we all screw up sometime." I like to think that these kind souls are somewhat more evolved than I. They are people who come across the blog and recognize my stumbling toward enlightenment, and my fumbling attempts to be a good person. They don't expect me to be perfect. They only want me to keep moving toward the light.

Thanks, guys.

But there is one commenter--and I think it's only one, though there might be a second out there--who seems to delight in trying to make me feel awful about myself. No matter what I write, this commenter seems to find the darkest, most negative interpretation on what I say.

For instance, in my last blog in which I talked about the unfortunate woman who dated a guy who thought he was "pimp," I noted that I am not abusive toward the women I have dated, and that no real man hits his women or purposely makes them feel small. This commenter then zoomed in and reminded me that I once referred to an ex-girlfriend as "The Devil." Well, I did. Guilty on that score. But I also ended up posting a blog apologizing to her for that label, and have not referred to her in that manner since. Does this mollify the mystery commenter? Not in the least. (BTW, this woman whom I used to refer to as TD later told me that it was kind of flattering, in that the devil is usually the most interesting character when he/she appears in fiction. We got a good laugh out of that and I no longer refer to her in this blog in that manner.)

My negative commenter--who hides behind the cowardly "anonymous" label--hates me with the passion of a thousand suns in nova. Anonymous doesn't seem to think that I'm any good, or that I have much use in this world. Anonymous lives, it seems, to read my blog and then post a sarcastic, insulting, and usually inaccurate response to what I've said.

I admit that a few years ago when I was more emotionally fragile, it bugged me. I have a few guesses as to who this person is, but really, does it matter? Don't we all want to be loved by all we know? Don't we all want to hear that our mistakes are human mistakes and not some symptom of being demon's spawn? And, of course, whenever we hear anything negative about ourselves, we automatically wonder whether that's more of the truth than a hundred positive things.

I've seen it before in others. You tell someone what a great job they did on their presentation, and then give them a mild suggestion about a minor flaw. That person then obsesses over the minor flaw, having completely disregarded every single good thing you told them.

My son is the worst on this. He'll show me something he's done--an essay for school, perhaps--and I'll praise him to the skies for the erudite, educated manner in which he's argued his point. Then I'll point out a little wooly phrase he used and suggest he look it over and rewrite to make it clearer.

What do you think he'll talk about for the next half hour?

And this is a child, O Anonymous, who is doing brilliantly in school, who is immensely talented, and who is a very well behaved, considerate, decent human being. I've done a damned good job (with his mother, who co-parents with me in a separate household) in raising this boy. But he still worries only about the small critiques I might occasionally offer, as is a parent's job.

(And now, O Anonymous, you will start to rag on me about what a horrible parent I am. I can almost write your nasty comment for you.)

The point is, I need to stop worrying about anonymous. After all, anyone who doesn't have the cajones to identify themselves when posting a nasty comment is probably the victim of a mental illness anyway. Probably some poor soul who gets access to a computer once a week when the doctor allows them to surf the web to keep them in touch with the real world. Probably some poor sinner sitting in a dark basement somewhere, surrounded by his/her Batman figurines in their original packaging, cruising blogs to see what insults he/she can inflict on unseen souls who are living lives much more interesting than theirs.

Or maybe it's just an ex girlfriend looking for revenge. Which, if you think about it, would be even sadder.

Anyway, my job here is to start viewing Anonymous with pity and sorrow rather than to try to worry about whether they are speaking anything like the truth.

And see? I've spent 3/4 of this blog talking about the negative person instead of focusing on the positive people, like Susan Gardner who said that my little blog has inspired her to blog as well.

Hello, Susan. Welcome to the blogosphere. Don't mind that occasional barking you hear. Those dogs are in the basement and they can't hurt you unless you let them.