Epilogue

I’m in the healing phase now. I’ve moved on and found another one which so far is treating me very well. It’s considerably easier mostly because I can post pictures directly from my computer and don’t have to go through Photo-goddamn-bucket. Did I mention that there’s spell check? There is. It’s wonderful. Shhh, don’t tell MySpace, we’re not speaking right now. He still hasn’t returned my Stevie Wonder CDs.

I can look back fondly remembering the first day I timidly typed and mouse-clicked my way into his heart. He made me feel welcomed at first by allowing me to present my real self without harsh consequences.

Now that I think back on it, there were a few clues in the beginning that were a sign of things to come but, like all enabling relationships, I chose to ignore them. The first occurred about six months into the relationship when my blog went unposted no matter how many times I hit “post blog”. Unbeknownst to me, the email notifications were still going out to my comrades each time I hit “post blog”. MySpace had caused me to spam my friends with no knowledge of my actions. Thankfully, Mr. Lazarchic was kind enough to alert me to the situation by gently calling into question my intelligence. Future unposts would continue but I would always blame my lack of technical expertise instead of putting the blame squarely where it deserved to be.

As the blind eye was turned against those blog misappropriations, another dysfunctional characteristic reared it’s ugly head; the slow decline of my self-esteem. Yes, I fell prey to the beguiled enchantments of the reader stats. Damn that counter! Damn that counter to hell! Oh sure, at first I was flattered with the ten to fourteen hits my blog would get in a day. Once I got a little though, I wanted more. I wanted that number up in the 30’s, maybe even 50’s. Especially after hearing from others how their counters were giving them numbers in the hundreds, thousands even!

On the outside, I consoled myself with the thought of “For heaven sakes, it’s only MySpace. You’re not Richard Yates, what’d you expect? A Pulitzer? A parade?”. Yes, a parade would be nice, but I again went back to what I knew best and that was to push it all down inside me. Any first-year psychology student can tell you that it’s not good to bottle up your feelings like that and I can tell you why, because it builds up into unhealthy behavior. I soon found myself delving into deep depression if I didn’t get at least a few more hits before ye olde work whistle blew.

Soon, the counter wasn’t enough. It moved on to comments. Why were others getting comments from those people and what did they mean by “Ha! Me too babe! What turn do I take?”. What was this secret language and was it being used against me? Was it a conspiracy? Was it a cult? Was it some depraved sex ring in which I would get caught up in if I asked too many questions? Oh, the images that filled my head!

I soon started to employ scientific inquiry to see if I could match up whether that someone special had been online yet and if so, did my counter increase by 1 meaning that he had to have read my blog? I then started investigating whether systems existed where someone else could track my MySpace lurkings. Did others know that I was tracking their inane comments, their availability status, their choice in songs, whether they had logged on today and if so, why hadn’t they answered my message yet?

As my inner self began to splinter into shards resembling the poor broom of the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, a glimmer of light began to enter into my dark, desperate world. A light of hope; a bitchslap of reality. It soon grew in strength and diameter. It grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me and screamed “What the FUCK is WRONG with you woman?!! “. As a side note, I find it odd that the voice resembled my mechanic, but that’s neither here nor there. It was enough to set me on the right path.

At that same time, another MySpace user had pointed out an option to me. Some might call this handy, some may call it fate, I call it devine intervention. It had to have been God. If not him then who? It was the Holy Spirit filling my computer, commanding my fingers to type in that other website. I had found it. The Chrysalis of blogdom. I got out. I put on my high heels and went trucking down the internet highway like Tina Turner running from Ike’s fist. I got out. I was finally free. Oh, glorious day.

I would like to take this opportunity now to introduce you to my new partner, http://peggylarson.blogspot.com. Ah, sweet release.