I am this many! One... two... three... four!

>> Saturday, October 15, 2011

I recently wondered what the first blog entry I wrote over here was, and discovered that Standing On The Shoulders Of Giant Midgets was about to turn four years old. Which was something. Not five, I guess, which would be a bigger anniversary and I'll probably forget about it next year if I haven't choked to death on a potato chip or been hit by a train or something; but four years I've been writing this thing. There ought to be balloons, whistles, cupcakes.

That first entry wasn't much. This was, actually, my second stab at a blog after trying to do this thing over at Microsoft Live's Spaces, which wasn't really a blog site at all but it took me a while to figure that out. Apparently lots of people figured that out, including Microsoft, because Spaces ultimately died a furtive death, pretty much slinking off to curl up under the bed and pass in its sleep. I don't even know if I can get back to any of those old entries; I don't think I can, I don't think I ever opted in to migrate the old Spaces precursor of Giant Midgets over to whatever Microsoft had cooking with WordPress.

Oh well.

What a strange, short trip it's been. Things I wrote as throwaways became immensely popular and things I wrote in an attempt to be profound and meaningful have largely been left alone. The most popular post I ever wrote per Google Analytics is unmentionable and has in many ways become an albatross round my neck (and don't ask and if you know, don't mention the damn thing, please). Here's the rest of the top five of all time according to GA:

  1. (ahem)
  2. "Oh By The Way: Ummagumma" (March 3rd, 2008)
  3. "Wheaton's Law trumps again" (August 19th, 2009)
  4. "This man must be elected!" (July 10th, 2008)
  5. "EXCLUSIVE: The 'lost' seventeen minutes of 2001: A Space Odyssey! (December 17th, 2010)

There's a little bit of arbitrariness there, but that's because I don't really have access to the top ten by way of Analytics: the front page is the single most popular page and for some reason the July, 2009 archive page is the tenth most popular page at Giant Midgets; there's better tools for tracking page views, to be sure, but I'm a little too apathetic to really make use of them.

That's a funny thing, you know. I don't know about other bloggers, but when I started, I had this idea that pageviews were super-duper-super-important, and fretted over the fact that nobody was looking at the blog when I started. And then I had a couple of pages rake in the hits, and oh shit, now people are looking, I have to perform! And that's really terrible, actually, really adds a lot of unnecessary pressure. Especially when you're doing something as eclectic (that's a nice way of saying unfocused, disorganized and suffering from attention-deficit-disorder) as this blog; I mean, there were tons of hits on the "missing scenes from 2001" satire post that came in from io9 and of course this got me nailbiting over whether I was posting enough funny science fiction and movies stuff over here, and did that need to be the "direction" or "mission" or what-have-you of this thing and so on and so forth? Earlier this year I got some attention from my Troy Davis post, and naturally this led to worrying about whether the rest of the blog was too unserious.

I know, you're not supposed to care what other people think of you; but let's be honest and admit that if I didn't care at all what people thought of me, I wouldn't do something as narcissistic and egotistical as keep a blog, would I? Of course I care, or I care up to a point. It's not all-consuming, this caring, and I can get over myself if people hate me after reading a post; nonetheless, I also put things up here because I want you people--friends, family members and total strangers stumbling by accident--to like me by way of liking what I'm saying, which is (believe-it-or-not) exactly the same thing, because all I am is a big cloud of words embedded in corpulent meat. (Seriously: if I ever lose the ability to communicate ideas--which is all I am, is a bunch of ideas--I might as well just die because at that point there will essentially be nothing left of me. It's not that any of those ideas are necessarily all that good, it's simply that this is what I am and always have been, ever since I was a small child.)

So. Here we are. Four years of blog entries, generally one a day with a few exceptions such as the time period I was laid out by the death of the original bug, and a few happier exceptions where I popped up more than one post on a particular day (it's very possible the latter occasions canceled out the former to enough of an extent for me to have a one-post-per-day average after all). Four years of throwing out ideas that amused me and things that made me angry or sad. Four years of filler videos, let's confess, and sometimes photographs of cats. (Ah! Four years of Elvis sightings!) Four freakin' years.

Happy anniversary, you rambling, tumbling, wild pile of things I typed into a machine, you desultory bastard, you.


timb111 Saturday, October 15, 2011 at 12:24:00 PM EDT  

Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday dear Standing-on-the-Shoulders-of-Giant*.
Happy Birthday to you.

And here's a cake for you.

* The name is sung really, really quickly so as to try to sound like one word. "Midgets" is omitted of course because it is the blog's last name.

Random Michelle K Saturday, October 15, 2011 at 10:51:00 PM EDT  

The most popular post I ever wrote per Google Analytics is unmentionable and has in many ways become an albatross round my neck (and don't ask and if you know, don't mention the damn thing, please).

What? The Marmosets?

Nathan Saturday, October 15, 2011 at 11:47:00 PM EDT  

Felicitations and Congratulations on this most auspicious day.

And while I'll agree that it's utterly confounding trying to figure out which post will get attention and which will die on the vine, the one to which you refer was most predictable in its fucking popularity.


P.S. My word verification word is "ankly". I'm pretty sure that's dirty.

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