Why Not?

It's bugged me, ever since I moved to my own dot com (HA!) that this little blogspot has just been sitting out here, lost, forlorn, and neglected. So, I'm going to post on it from time to time.

This is one of those times. That picture is something I put on my Tumblr, because I love it so. Tumblr is another thing - I have no idea what's going on over there. I joined that party WAY too late.

Some days I can full grasp the online world, and other days it totally baffles me. Today, I'm baffled, so I came home.

Twitter Is Too Much Pressure

OK, Internet. I get it. It's not enough for me to talk to you in one way or another every single day, but now I have to be clever? It's enough to send that creeping chill of terror through the old bowels, Internet. I'm having identity issues, over here.

I've bought a house, so I could fall into the home-improvement blog sphere. I'm also trying to freelance write, so I could fall into the desperate-writer blog sphere as well. I am also a student, so I could fall into the I'm-old-but-all-about-school-let-me-tell-you-about-it blog sphere.

What I'm not? A comedy writer. I'm hardly ever funny, and when people do the most laughing at me is usually when I'm deadly serious. I'm also not a blogger-for-profit, ever since the unfortunate AdSense debacle (which I've ALMOST given up on), so I'm really doing this for my own sanity and amusement.

So I will just keep on doing what I'm doing, being completely unfocused and un-nichey. Don't judge me, Internet, or I won't play WordTwist with you or let you win at Chess anymore.

Begging

This is a letter I wrote to Google, asking them to reconsider their decision. Not because I was going to strike it rich by using this service, but because I don't like to be "in trouble".

My AdSense account was recently disabled. I filed an appeal, and the appeal was denied. I was told that my account "posed a significant risk" to advertisers. I simply do not understand how this can be. While my traffic has increased over the past few months, I have not solicited clicks nor have I ever purposely clicked on my own ads. I am horrified that I've been blackballed from a program that I have recommended to practically everyone I know. You're talking to someone who never even got sent to the principal's office in school - I can't believe that I'm in trouble with Google. I respect your company so much, and felt really great that I was a part of the Blogger community and an AdSense user. I implore you - reinstate my AdSense account. I will only put one ad on my page and I will advise people who read my blog NOT to click on the ads. I'm not sure what caused this problem to begin with, but if you say there was invalid clicking I'm not inclined to argue. I don't see what happens outside of my own home or office. I am very certain, however, that my blog is small potatoes, and that I am NO risk to advertisers. I am an aspiring writer who was just hoping to make a little bit of pocket change on this blog - just enough to offset the cost of my monthly iTunes purchases.
If you look harder at my account you will see that I am not a risk. If you would tell me exactly what kind of invalid activity you detected on my account I could work WITH you to correct it. Just cutting me off and writing me off is not the right way to go. I believe in what you're doing and want to be a partner in all this. I thought I was a responsible account holder and am very upset that you don't agree. I feel that my integrity has been called into question and I'm very upset by it.
I know you're a great big company with more emails than you know what to do with. I know you're all very busy and that I'm just one tiny person on the whole other side of the country and I don't matter. I have always thought that Google was better than the other large corporations out there. I hope you prove me right, and all the naysayers wrong.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you respond.

Not Quite Done

OK, I know I just wrote about this, but I'm kind of cheesed off about it. I'm not supposed to write about it, because you're not supposed to mention your, ahem, profit-getting units, and I have nowhere to vent this frustration. My mom's all, "Honey, I think it's a little ridiculous that you're so upset about this." And I'm sort of thinking that she's right. What does it matter? I didn't create this space as a way to make money. I created it as a place to ramble on self-indulgently and delude myself into thinking that would be entertaining to the general public. I just liked seeing how many page impressions I got per day. So maybe they'll let me have that back.

I can see it now.

Me: Look, I didn't mean to do anything wrong. Whatever I'm doing wrong? I'll stop it. Just tell me what it is.
Google: You're lucky we even let you keep your blog, you ingrate.
Me: Do you have to call me names? I already feel bad enough.
Google: There IS no bad enough, Ms. J. You're lucky we even let you keep your blog NAME. We technically own it. Plus, all your content. We own that too. Actually, we own YOU. That's right. We technically bought you from the government about three months ago. We could put you out of your misery at any time. And don't think we won't. We're serious.
Me: Obviously, yeah. You're serious. Listen, can I get an allowance?

The Scarlet Blogger

Apparently, in my attempt to profit off of my witticisms and charm, I have pissed off Google. If you visit here regularly, you may have noticed this attempt for profit, which I don't dare call by name for fear of pissing Google off even further. Today you will notice that the "areas of effort" are blank no-man's-lands of internet wasteland. Yes, Gentle Readers, I have filed an appeal, because I don't feel that anything untoward happens here at NAAM, and because I know you really love to know where you can buy earwig poison.

I cried about it actually. But that's me lately. Crying about everything. The funny thing? Even though it's treated me like a red-headed stepchild, I still love Google. I just wish Google still loved me. *sniff*

Actually, Google probably never did love me. It's too big. It can't love individual people. It's not God, after all. It can't see into my heart and know that there is more good there than bad. Come on, guys. Don't be so hard on it.

End rambling.

Bah Blog

When I think about this blog it becomes distorted in my mind. I like to think of it as a showcase for my keen observations and acerbic wit, but it's really not. It's really a place where I sluggishly review movies and talk about my various ailments and stresses - so tense and completely stressed out and afraid of saying anything too personal while getting intirely tiresome reporting on migraine after migraine.

Enough.

This is my New Year's Resolution to myself. I want a blog that's fun for ME to read, whether or not it's fun for anyone else to read. Back in my early blogging days I used to chuckle out loud when I wrote a blog. I would feel smug and self-satisfied when I went back and read them. I want that back. I want to feel smug and self-satisfied. I want the word venom.

Incidentally

Posting playlists have a fun effect on the ads that pop up on my page. Much better than when I used to write about earwigs. Uh oh. Now I bet you'll see how to get rid of earwigs. Maybe I should say something more about AlligatorFishPig. I wonder if there are any ads for that. Furthermore, I wonder if I'll get in trouble for this post. I hope not.

Google, if you're listening, don't be mad. I think it's really neat. I really do.

Ah, Internet

So, Twitter. I logged into it and as it turns out, I already have an account. In fact, I've already twittered before. My twitter said "Migraines are God's way of saying "take a break""
I don't even remember doing that, so the migraine must have been pretty bad. However, I decided to make a joke and imply that I might have been drunk when I signed up for twitter. Which is silly, since I only listen to iTunes and get maudlin when I tie one on. Which is, you know, practically never.
It's odd. Most of the in-earnest, serious bloggers I read get pretty frank about their real life. I feel very constricted, which probably means I shouldn't do this but I enjoy it and appreciate the challenge of making something into a compelling read without spilling too many of my private beans.
I mean, work is out. Definitely. One thing we've learned from the honorable Heather Armstrong is that blogging about work can definitely get you into trouble. I should know myself, I got in trouble a few years back just venting my frustrations about my boss on myspace. I erased a lot of really hilarious material in my scramble to keep my job, so I've vowed to be clever so that I can keep it.
Family is mostly out too, in that I certainly can't vent. I can, however, if I ever become popular, help my family through my writing, so that's something to look forward to.
So, Internet. I'm still trying to figure out how to entertain you.

Resolute

I promised myself I'd write every day, and I'm doing it, whether it's worth a damn or not. I ended up going into the office today, and I'm really glad I did. Everyone acted happy to see me.

Ate utter crap for dinner...cheesesteak and cheese fries. So much for THAT part of my New Year's Resolution. Tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Gotta go to bed early. I've reviewed my returned assignments from this intercession course and I've got to say I'm happy but irritated. NOWHERE in the real world do they condemn you for using contractions. Get over it, guys.

Meh. I have class tomorrow (that's right, on Saturday) and I've got to get up early to type my paper. I wrote it out in class today, but I still need to type it.

Maybe I have enough energy to play with my planner some more. I really love that thing.