Give Me Liberty or Give Me a Job

30 06 2007

Seeing as budget axes tend to fly around this time of year, at least in the public sector, my mother was asking me yesterday if I had a resume online.  “Oh, I have something online all right,” I said, and wondered quietly what my future employer would make of Bad Apple’s Rot Report.

Since I love blogging, and I do love it, I tend to tell people about it and be a blog-vangelist, if you will.  Just this week someone said to me, “I want to start a blog, but I’m afraid to open myself up to it.”

Oh yeah, I once felt like that.  But it’s funny how once you start writing your own blog, things that worried you about blogging just slide away, and you realize you are writing things to the whole freaking world you never really thought you would so much as whisper in public.  And it’s not like I have an anonymous blog and that potential employers and my parents could not find it – they most certainly easily could find it, if they bothered.

However, because even one’s friends and boyfriends can’t seem to hardly be bothered to read one’s blog most of the time, and in fact, one’s readers tend to live in entirely other countries, continents, in parts of the world one has never been, well, one gets lulled into a sense of consequence-less pure expression, from which Bad Apple’s most twisted rationales can find enough rope to hang themselves three times over.

Which is how I find myself contemplating Ben Franklin’s musing on all-day beer in the workplace, defending library workers against saintly public images, and promoting the worst marketing ideas the best minds can generate (not to mention my post on Get Your Ass to Work Day, not exactly written for my future boss’s eyes).  I do my best to be a Bad Apple, although generally, feedback says I’m not all that bad, which in my book is simply not bad enough (and at which point, I refer folks to Baby Needs Salt – nothing says capital “B” Bad like a recipe for baby). 

Of course, this all begs the question, just how bad can an apple be?, and for what purpose?, which naturally I ask myself all the time.

Anyway, you only go around this crap shoot once, right?, so I figure you might as well develop one inch (that’s 2.5 centimeters) of psychic real estate that freely expresses what no one else but you can say.  Sure, the world has some crazy motherfreakers, and you can be one of the better ones, if you just take a chance on the interest of strangers and the disinterest of those closest to you.

Let me take this chance to thank all those bloggers, readers, and nerds that make it so easy for me to resolve all these messy issues and just produce this bruised fruit for you, whoever the heck you might be.  I love it when you comment, you know.




2 responses

5 07 2007

The only thing I worry about is whether I’ll have something to write about on my blog.

6 07 2007

Oh yes, there’s always that fear, FIAR, which is why we all need to feed and pet our muses constantly, and let them wear and say whatever they want to when they go out in public, no matter how revealing or Cindy Lauper-esque they may seem to us to be.

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