Where The Wild Blogs Are

(For the Sendak-deprived, this is a play on Where The Wild Things Are.)

The night the Little Blind Girl changed her avatar and made mischief of one kind


and another


her followers called her “WILD BLOG!”
and the Little Blind Girl said “ I’LL FILTER YOUR CONTENT!”
so she was made to sign out without checking her statistics.

That very night in the Little Blind Girl’s computer the social media grew


and grew-


and grew until her smartphone chimed with tweets
and her Pinterest Board pinned the world all around

and Tumblr scrolled by with a private blog for the Little Blind Girl
and she clicked through the pages and gifs
and in and out of memes

and almost over the cat videos

cat-254572_640 2

to where the wild blogs are.


And when she came to the place where the wild blogs are
they roared their anonymous roars and gnashed their anonymous teeth
and rolled their anonymous eyes and showed their anonymous claws

til the Little Blind Girl wrote “LMAO!”
and tamed them with the magic trick
of standing up to all the trolls without taking their bait once

girl-881900_640 2

and they were frightened and called her the most wild blog of all
and made her king of all wild blogs.

“And now,” tweeted the Little Blind Girl, “let the wild blog-rumpus start!”


“Now stop!” the Little Blind Girl tweeted and made the wild blogs sign out without checking their statistics. And the Little Blind Girl, the king of all wild blogs, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved her writing best of all.

Then all around from away across the blogosphere
she sensed good things to read
so she gave up being king of where the wild blogs are.

girl-881905_640 2

But the wild blogs cried, “Oh please don’t go–
we’ll filter your content–we love you so!”
And the Little Blind Girl said, “No!”

The wild blogs roared their anonymous roars and gnashed their anonymous teeth
and rolled their anonymous eyes and showed their anonymous claws
but the Little Blind Girl logged onto her private blog and waved good-bye


and clicked back over the cat videos
and in and out of memes
and through the gifs

and onto the home page of iliketheworldfuzzy
where she found her saved draft waiting for her


and it was still good.


[all pictures are in the public domain via pixabay]

The Tweet Life

In my continuing quest for adventures that accommodate a screen reader (for those who didn’t catch the name of this blog, the blog subtitle, my username, or my avatar, I can’t see very well), I’ve recently begun to be active on Twitter.  I’m still learning my way around while pondering the revolving questions of why someone stopped following me and also why anyone follows me in the first place–hey, wait, don’t get mad and un-follow me!  I like it!  I just don’t understand it.  I also don’t understand Ozzy Osbourne, but I still like Black Sabbath.

Moving on, before I drive away any more followers:  I really just wanted to post some Before and After pictures of my burgeoning Twitter addiction, sort of like those pictures of healthy vs. diseased lungs that people show you to make you stop smoking, or those “this is your brain on drugs” commercials.  I anticipate that this blog post will have a similar success rate. So, kids, before you pick up that smart phone (the first tweet’s always free), remember my tale of woe.  Before I let Twitter take control, this was my life:


Now, this is my life on Twitter:

exploding twitter

Image by Charlie Cottrell, used by permission.  (c) 2016, all rights reserved

That last image is specifically of me from when I accidentally tweeted a celebrity and I couldn’t understand why I suddenly had fifty notifications that people I’d never met had liked tweets essentially calling me an idiot.  My friend Chuck drew it to cheer me up, and I paid him back with that post about clowns (a high price, but Twitter habits aren’t cheap).

Please, learn from my example.  I know you think you’ve got it under control–a few tweets a day, with friends, just for fun; you can stop any time you like.  But it doesn’t take long before you’re waking up in the middle of the night jonesing to check your Twitter feed; then you start losing followers and can’t remember how.  After that it’s just a matter of time before you’re recklessly retweeting memes and wondering why your mother blocked your account (hint:  it may have something to do with all the memes).

Actually, in all seriousness, it’s turning out to be a lot of fun, but I do advise tweeting responsibly.  When it’s 3 a.m. and you’ve had a few drinks, it’s going to seem like a good idea to tweet your ex-BF’s new girlfriend “just to warn her.”  It’s not.  Trust me on this, for I am now an expert on all things Twitter (I am not an expert on all things Twitter).  Also, stop tweet-stalking your ex-BF.  That’s just rude, and I’m definitely an expert on being rude!

Oops, I Accidentally Tweeted A Celebrity

laptop-40935_640So, this Twitter thing:  weird, right?  I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went tweet-hopping.  Twitter suggested that I might find this one guy interesting, and I recognized the name from a guest post I had read online that actually made sense to me.  In retrospect, if I didn’t breeze right past things like introductions on guest posts, I might not be in this predicament.  But I did, and I also jumped right into a philosophical debate he was having with someone on Twitter despite never having met either participant.  I didn’t realize at the time just how perilous this little blind jump of mine was.

My thought process essentially consisted of:  cool!  People are talking about philosophy late at night!  I used to do this for a (sort of) living!  The problem with that reasoning is that, when I used to do this regularly, it was in person, and celebrities very rarely wandered into the bars near my school.  Matthew McConaughey once, but he was pretty drunk (and kind of condescending, too), and Dave Matthews once.  He was actually pretty cool, though also drunk.  It made me feel bad that I don’t like his music.  But, you know, I had fair warning then, and also our conversations weren’t broadcast over the entire internet.

So I said my bit, getting more responses from the non-famous person in the debate than the celebrity, but it’s hardly the first time I’ve had a lop-sided philosophy discussion, so that still didn’t tip me off.  I eventually got tired and got some sleep, got up, saw a response, tweeted back.  I then went on about my day because, you know, I have a life.  After several hours I remembered to unplug my headphones from my iPhone, at which point Twitter started chirping at me every few seconds.  If Twitter could talk, it would have gone like this:

Twitter:  Hey Little Blind Girl!  Hey!  Over here!

Little Blind Girl:  Um, is that you, Twitter?

Twitter:  Of course it’s me.  Who else would it be, Thomas Jefferson?  George Jetson?

Little Blind Girl:  Sorry, you just don’t usually have anything to say to me.

Twitter:  Yeah, well, I’m here now, and you’ve got about fifty million notifications waiting for you.  Would you check ’em, please, because my back’s about to give out from carrying them around.  What am I, your messenger service?

Little Blind Girl:  Well, sort of…

Twitter:  Shut up and check your messages, already.  I don’t got all day.

Twitter’s got a ‘tude.  Anyway, I checked the messages and they nearly all stemmed from that conversation I jumped into last night.  I couldn’t understand why so many people were joining in.  Then, when I was looking through Twitter trying to figure it out, I saw a little blue check mark beside the name of Dude Who Started It.  When I looked that up, and this is probably common knowledge to everyone else, it turns out that the check mark means that person has been verified as famous, or something along those lines.  But, hey, people can be famous for all sorts of reasons, right?  So I looked him up…


Dude Who Started It, a.k.a. Mark Pellegrino.  Photo by jfer21 from Los Angeles, CA [CC BY-SA 2.0] (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0), via Wikimedia Commons

Dude Who Started It is named Mark Pellegrino, and according to IMDb has been in every television show since Howdy Doody.  Including one I’ve actually seen, which takes away my excuse that I don’t really watch much television, so how would I know.  To be fair, though, the show of his that I’ve seen is Lost, which is nearly impossible to follow even when you watch the episodes in order, which I didn’t, and if I’m being honest I still can’t remember him in it (sorry, Dude.  Can’t see the screen).  As I type this post I can hear Twitter continuing to chirp menacingly at me:  you’ve been mentioned!  You’ve been replied to!  Thousands of people you don’t know want to tell you exactly how wrong, stupid, and ridiculous you are!  Actually, they were fairly nice to me, and it’s interesting to have a vigorous, albeit fairly basic, debate on ethics and epistemology with complete strangers, but it got pretty intense for a while (not to mention difficult to follow).  I kind of feel sorry for Dude Who Started It.  Being famous must suck.

One of the great comforts of my internet life is that very few people are paying attention.  Of course it’s nice to think you’re Being Heard and that you’re Getting Your Message Across, but my message mostly consists of, “Hey, guess what random thought just made me laugh in public for no apparent reason,” which is hardly going to change the world.  I like that I can say whatever I think and no one will attack me for it because no one will notice.  I think it’s great that other people like to have anonymous Xtreme Twitter Debates, but I prefer to have my philosophy discussions the way Plato tells us we should:  while getting plastered with friends.

Unlike Dude Who Started It, I have the luxury of only having to be (not really) famous for fifteen minutes.  Soon enough, Twitter will calm down and start ignoring me again and I’ll be able to go back to my own misguided ways without correction from the entire internet, and I’ll continue to share any funny random thoughts I have with those of you who choose to seek me out.  Though I’ve never been fully convinced that my followers weren’t all just my mother under various screen names.

Ooh, hey!  IMDb says Dude Who Started It was in The Big Lebowski, which I’ve seen at least four times.  If only I’d been sober for even one of them….

Edit:  I kept tweeting because apparently Twitter is the new crack.  I started out the Great Debate of April 2016 by asking the difference between knowledge and wisdom.  I ended by concluding that knowledge is the understanding of how Twitter works and wisdom is leaving it the heck alone.  Words to live by.

I’m not old! I’m not! I’m not…yes, I am

Kurt Cobain (front) and Krist Novoselic (left)...

Kurt Cobain (front) and Krist Novoselic (left) live at the 1992 MTV Video Music Awards. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I had occasion to hang out with some girls who are a bit younger than I am; I don’t want to admit how much younger because every time I try, I have to go sulk for a while and I want to get this blog post published tonight.  We started out talking about current events, which went fine.  I summarized world events and gave insightful and witty commentary, and the girls all nodded appreciatively because they had no idea what I was talking about.  My favorite kind of audience.

I should add that, throughout the conversation, even when they were all talking excitedly to each other, they all had their cell phones out and were texting and surfing and twittering the entire time.  They either have the most amazing abilities to concentrate on more than one conversation at once, or else they’re talking to me and simultaneously tweeting things like “Sky cloud sleeping greenly lol asdf qwerty #notreallypayingattention #godhelpthefuture”.  I don’t know.  I don’t really understand this Twitter thing.

Which brings me to tonight’s blog topic:  I am not old!  I’m not, really.  It’s just these kids today, with their smart phones and their YouTube…did you know that MTV doesn’t play music videos anymore?  I didn’t know that.  I’m pretty sure I still wouldn’t have known that even if I owned a television.  Oh, and no one actually uses a cell phone to call someone anymore. It’s all texting and tweeting.  The only call I saw any of the girls get was from one of their parents.

One girl was typing away on her netbook (I think that’s what it was) and went to save her work, commenting “I’ve never understood why this icon means ‘save’.  I don’t even know what it is.”  I leaned over; it was the icon for a floppy disk.  I tried really hard to not feel old. I was wearing low-rise jeans!  And I was entitled to!  You can’t do that and be old, right?

Then the conversation turned to our taste in music.  I recognized at least half of the names they mentioned as their favorite artists, which was encouraging.  Some of them even liked Adele and thought she was cool, and I was all “Me, too!  Me too!  Wow, you guys are awesome.  We’re totally bonding.”  Then I plucked up my courage and mentioned Kurt Cobain, musical genius and tortured soul, and how much I enjoy the body of work he left behind.  Four blank stares and complete silence.  Then, and I’m not kidding about this, one of them asked, “Who’s Kurt Cobain?”

And then I gave up.  I’m old.  I’d tweet it to the world if I knew how.