Yeah, I’m down with OPP. That’s Other Peoples Perspectives, you pervometer. Oh the humanity. I pretended to be a misanthrope for so long I had almost forgotten that I mostly think people are actually pretty neat. Oh, to be sure there is some sneering and rolling of eyes when I slump here slurping soup scrolling the pages for first person type entries; occasionally I catch myself making a riverfish face - which is a terrible idea BTW since in four months I will turn 30 and the face you are making when you turn 30 is basically the face you live with until you die so I should be practicing Face # 12 “youthful optimism” - but for the most part reading blogs makes me happy.

Since it exists somewhere between Confessions and The Hills (dissertation forthcoming*) the blogosphere is a good place to make pretend friends and be influenced by people, to “only connect” without having to put on pants. And for a shy and lonely girl like me, it’s how I socialize these days. that’s sad. oh no, I’m that guy; I’m dirty shirt bagel bites basement chat room circa 1998 guy. gross. sorry you had to see that. ahem, moving on. Blog writers are, for the most part, reliable narrators, sincere and earnest, and obviously candid, guilty, in fact of what is being widely labeled as “oversharing” e.g., “I let my boyfriend eat egg salad out of my navel” and other such therapy diary disasters.

I’ve learned, I’ve laughed, I’ve cried. I have lived vicariously and voyeuristically in many unnamed cities. I’ve been cheered up when I feel like living in Mexico is for the birds and all I want is Richie Havens in the park and basil pasta salad and a bottle of wine with the dancing diaper only babies and sleepy golden retrievers on a Sunday night as well as cheered on by kindness of strangers. I’ve also sobered as a writer and learned that less scathing and scandalous prose can also be entertaining and even edifying. The brevity of my disparaging review of the local chain where I was yesterday served an old man’s shoe sprinkled with grass and warm, red bits demonstrates my growth as a human being, I think.

I just wanted to extend a hey, thanks to the myriad nonanonymous personalities who maybe without knowing it conspire to keep me sane and proffer a window on the world I look to like all the time more and more. It’s been real.

* Six Degrees of Francis Bacon: Justin Bobby Do The Stratford Man in Different Voices