I think a couple of years ago if you said something on a blog the general mood of the blog-society as we knew it wouldn't have vibrated too much. These days, when someone says something a little iffy the next thing we know, its on some sort of a crafty board or maybe some other board and, well, it all becomes sort of catty and "catty" bugs me.
I don't like catty because when you're catty it's like saying stuff in front of people when they're in the room and are within hearing distance. Used to be in the blog world, you could say something on a blog or a message board and the person discussed wouldn't hear it.
Now, I'm sure they do.
When the guy who does his boxing routine, the guy who does the full-on Rocky routine on the treadmill (and it always seems like he's within my range of sight) came into the gym today and gave me a drop-dead dirty look, I got to thinking.
I don't like it when people say nasty things about me. I guess I shouldn't complain about his upper cut on the treadmill, either.
This post doesn't have much to do with any particular event, but it has to do with a series of them. They don't have to do with me that much, either. BUT, they have to do with Bloggers and commenters.
In my mind:
In the beginning of their blog's life, Bloggers write their blogs for their own pleasure.
Bloggers, when they gather readers, still write for their own pleasure, but more and more for the pleasure of others.
Bloggers don't (and I don't think they should) write for the sake of comments, only.
Bloggers pay a monthly fee for bandwidth and receive emails and usually take time to respond to certain questions (on their own time and at their own expense).
Bloggers, most of all, aren't only Bloggers. Most of them are professionals or artists or mothers or fathers or dancers or cat trainers or club-goers or seafood-eating fools, too. They are those people first and then, and only then, are they Bloggers. (That is, of course, unless they have an insanely well-traveled blog and post advertisements from which they are paid by their traffic.)
I have a question: Would you go eat dinner three times a week at someone else's house, at their expense, and announce to the group and write an editorial for the metropolitan paper that YOU thought they didn't provide enough salad, or that the particular brand of salad dressing they served didn't suit YOUR taste?
(Just something that has been on my mind.)