LittleWyvern.com

I’ve noticed a considerable increase in your interest about my life over the past few weeks. I can’t say I really blame you; my Vegas misadventures should be a lot more exciting than your respective office/classroom/homeless hijinks. And at the same time, while I enjoy all the new attention – especially when you take the time to comment – it adds a whole new level of pressure to my previously carefree contemplations. I used to scribble the occasional 3am post on livejournal in a desperate hope that it would calm me down enough that I might fall asleep. And though my rambling descriptions of existential chaos may not have served as the most entertaining of e-literature, at least I knew why I had written them. Lately that comfort has been lost to me.

At this point I can’t help but think that I am writing purely for the sake of someone else’s entertainment. Undoubtedly I greatly exaggerate my importance in your life, but when I sit before the keyboard, mentally arranging the next opus wyvern, I no longer think of myself. No, it is not my own thoughts and concerns being considered in that moment. It’s yours. What would the ambiguous they find interesting? What would they like to read about? What would they find funny? God forbid that nothing especially interesting or hilarious happens for a few days, what would I write about? You may shrug this one off, but it isn’t just one of those ‘Crazy Jason’ preoccupations. My roommates and I have actually spent significant amounts of time inventing ridiculous Vegas Stories that the folks back home just might believe. I haven’t stooped to actually putting one on paper, but eventually I fear I might. I must feed my audience afterall, and feed them well – they seem to survive best on the escapades and exploits of my supposedly new life.

This is all an overreaction for sure, but perhaps one borne of good reason. I recognize these as complements, and I assure you that I appreciate them all, but comments like these, in sufficient quantity, eventually get to you.

“Dude, when are you going to update again?!”
“I NEED AN UPDATE!”
“Great blog, keep it up.”
… or my personal favorite so far…
“That entry was so hilarious I printed out the entire story and mailed it to each of your grandparents.”

Your comments aside, take a look at the traffic stats that I just pulled down.

Unique Visitors
Jun 2005 – 101
Jul 2005 – 120
Aug 2005 – 144
Sep 2005 – 192

Number of Visits
Jul 2005 – 446
Aug 2005 – 550
Sep 2005 – 692

Hits
Jul 2005 – 3156
Aug 2005 – 9772
Sep 2005 – 7416

It’s no coincidence that site traffic dramatically increased once I began writing from Sin City. I don’t even know 192 different people. Are there people visiting this site that don’t actually know me? The idea is a little bit creepy; I can be a man and still admit that.

I’ll lay this generally uninteresting tirade to rest and hopefully be back tomorrow or Saturday with something far more exciting and entertaining. I just wanted to spend a few minutes and try to share just how sad it’s been making me lately that I can’t bring myself to write an entry with any actual substance. Even though I have so far managed to write about a few interesting, and hopefully enjoyable experiences, the content of my blog no longer reflects the actual thoughts moving through my head. I’ve somehow shifted from writing about who I am, and instead been describing what I do. And while I find explorations of the former far more interesting, I simply don’t imagine that any of you share the sentiment.