In advance, I realize I have done none of these things. However, as the wise man said, sometimes we only know what we should have done in retrospect. Of course, the other wise man said, Try not. Do or do not. There is no try. And I think we can all agree that wise men who are puppets beat out wise men who are men any day. Therefore, here’s all the stuff I should have done before taking a leave of absence from the pub.
1. Tell people.
This is smart in most situations. Not, obviously, if you intend to rip off a bank. Or throw a surprise party. Or fart in a crowded elevator. Or if you see Sally Bowles’ mother on the street directly after seeing Sally herself in one of the most dazzling burlesque reviews in the German World War II circuit. In those situations, as Ms. Bowles tells us, mum’s the word. However, if you are about to disappear off the face of the earth and you don’t want to stand your bloggers up, you should probably let them know about it.
Did the rogue do this? No.
2. Plan posts for the nonce.
Nonce is an amazing word, and we should use it more often. For one thing, it rhymes with ‘sconce,’ another delightful word and surprisingly lovely decoration not often encouraged by today’s overhead-light loving set. For another, ‘nonce’ indicates ‘for the duration’ in a much more pleasing, romantic way. If I had planned posts, ‘for the nonce’ would have described my absence beautifully. For the nonce, please enjoy these delightful posts I have prepared with my own two delicate hands for you, I might have said. And you would have swooned both at the lusciousness of my prose and the exquisite construction of my posts, and not noticed my absence in the comments at all.
What actually happened was more like ‘while you fucking left us’. As in, ‘while you fucking left us, there was nothing to read and we contemplated drinking all your booze and peeing in the corners of the pub.’ You don’t say stuff like that with ‘for the nonce.’ Try it. ‘For the nonce, please enjoy trashing my pub.’ It doesn’t work.
Did the rogue plan for the nonce? No, she fucking left you.
3. Ask someone to blogsit.
This is a cooler way, I think, of saying ‘guest post’. It’s more or less the same theory as house-sitting. You get to come in, make use of my space in whatever way so pleases you, and as long as you don’t annoy my neighbors or burn the place down, I’ll thank you for keeping an eye on things and making sure Brett keeps his kilt right where it’s supposed to be.
Guest posts also neatly eliminate the necessity for number two, if you are so inclined. You can even still use ‘nonce’. Try it. ‘For the nonce, please enjoy the verbal stylings of my friend King Writacular.’ Works a treat.
Did the rogue ask someone to blogsit? No, because the rogue does not ask nicely. After the rogue was done asking, her intended guest-poster was weeping in a puddle of jam and eggnog. Don’t ask. You don’t want to know.
4. Plan something really cool for your comeback.
If Cher went on tour again (and oh, you know she will) and she didn’t bust out the most ridiculous outfits you had yet laid your eyes on, would you not be horribly disappointed in Cher? Would you not demand something with absurd amounts of fringe and a hat to make the good women who attend horse races cringe? So would I. Similarly, your return to the blogging stage ought to come with sparkles and spangles and other sp- beginning words. Spaghetti comes to mind. Your reappearance should be dripping in spaghetti. The oft-cited Incident of Calvin & Hobbes would not have been the glory that it was without the spaghetti, nor would it have required capitals.
The Spaghetti Return. That’s what your blog comeback should be. Or spork. Ooh, sporks. Spinach? No. Definitely not spinach. I hereby forbid everyone from returning to blogging with the word ‘spinach’ in their post.
Did the rogue use the word ‘spinach’ in her comeback post? She did.
5. Become Cap’n On It.
I have a devil duck whose name is Cap’n Onit. This is neither here nor there, but I feel you should know that the name has been put to good use. Once he conquered Florence (true story). At any rate, the name Cap’n Onit arose because, as the name implies, he always was.
On it. He was always on it. Keep up, people.
Which is what you should be when you return to blogland. Every day a new post, every day new glories. Which is the single only item on this list to which I shall be adhering. Since it is also the last item on this list, I shall feel I have done well. I am Cap’n Onit, people. New blog posts all the week, including tomorrow an entry into the War on English, because we all know the bloodshed between the grammarians and the text-messagers is what pays the electric bill around here.
Is the rogue on it? She SO is.
One extra special bonus DON’T for leaving your blog.
DON’T come back to blogging, post one tantalizing promise-I’m-back post, and then disappear for another week.
Did the rogue – shut up. I don’t want to play this game anymore.
Subscribe. I’m back.
Milestones in Blogging
Tags: blogging, comments, mean
I have my first mean comment today!
I am secretly sort of delighted. It wasn’t even a misspelled, ignorant sort of mean comment. It was a numbered, listed, analytical mean comment, and it touched several times on my insecurities, my ineptitude, and my mental health. (Note to hate commenter: that’s what I do, dude. Quit stealing my material.) You can check it out here, at the tail end of yesterday’s post. You can’t miss it. It’s the long, unkind one.
According to Mr. Oscar Nardini:
Being new to the blogosphere, and this most certainly being the first time I’ve had an audience large enough to merit dissenting voices, I don’t know how often other bloggers deal with unkind commentary, nor if there is some communally accepted way of handling the situation. Do you ignore it? Do you have a private little chuckle with your friends? Are you supposed to take it personally?
Now, with material like that, you will not be surprised that my first impulse was to make fun of it. But first, I did what any reasonable person would do:
I Googled the sucker.
And found this blog, in which an author of the same name (and I am assuming, here, that there is only one Oscar Nardini in the world, and if not I most humbly beg the pardon of the wronged party). In this blog, Mr. Nardini speaks of his clinical depression, including medications for Paxil and Celexa. His description of himself on his blog is “By a lot of people’s standards, I live a rather dull existence.”
I can’t be MAD at a clinically depressed guy.
This is a man suffering from depression. I do not suffer from depression. I am, in fact, happier than I have ever been in my life. I just moved to the first place that’s ever felt like home. I live in a house that has roses just beginning to climb up the front porch. I’m starting my own writing business, an endeavor in which all my friends and family avidly support me. My work satisfies me emotionally and ethically. I have good friends and a love life that suits me down to the ground. My town brews good beer. I have nothing to complain about but one guy, who doesn’t know me, pretending he does.
And a lousy cold. The cold really sucks, actually. Anyone out there working on a cure for the common cold: I salute you. But other than that, I’m good. I don’t need to make fun of sad folk. I feel that probably sinks me into a deeper circle of hell. And mine is plenty deep already. I once mocked a midget. No, it’s cool, he was a friend. But I’ve done other stuff. Unspeakable stuff. Stuff Oscar would disapprove of.
So I’m going to ask a favor of the couple hundred people who wander through here on a regular basis. Go on over to Oscar’s blog, and say something nice to him. Don’t offer judgments. Give him a bit of poetry you liked, or an inspiring quote, or just a friendly hey-it’s-okay kind of exchange. He seems like a sad guy. Give him something to not be sad about.
Hope that’s what you were looking for, Oscar.
For all you other nasty commenters out there
I am not usually this benevolent. I will strike you from above if you come around here saying mean things just to be douchebags. I will most certainly not link to your blog and indicate that others should go be kind to you. This is a special event, in celebration of my mean-aversary (named by GirlPie, who is studiously awesome and also referred to this event as my ‘deflowering’), and for Oscar only.
Because I have secretly always liked the name Oscar, ever since Sesame Street.
NEW DEVELOPMENT: Oscar has evidently removed his blog from the net. I don’t quite know what to make of that. Um . . . vengeance is mine?
Stick around. I’m funny when I’m not saddened. Better yet, subscribe, and I’ll be funny at you from your inbox.