Reason #499 that it'll never work
I know this is not Barry Bonds territory, or even Steve Balboni territory, but somehow 500 posts seems like a big deal. And, well, it kind of has me freaked out. So, I'm trying to play it cool. This is what I do when I get freaked out. I fake it, like everything is better than good, that way you won't know that I'm all jiggly on the inside.

Five Hundred times I have plopped down. Five zero zero times I have spilled my guts to strangers, to friends, to everybody crazy enough to listen. Everybody. And for what? So Daimon can share his memories of Pee Wee Herman? So Clare and I can battle it out over Delaware? So Marilyn can cajole me into making good choices?

Well, yea. A little bit. See, there's a connectivity aspect to this whole blogging world. All of sudden, I'm cyberspace neighbors with all these cool people. People that are super neat, but people who wouldn't otherwise share their lives with me due to something silly like geography or social boundary or just plain shyness.

But there's more than that. There's a therapeutic aspect, a here-I-am-now-try-and-stop-me aspect. There's something good about getting it all down, or some of it down, for the world to see. It's not a "get it all down for I am historic with a silent h", instead it's a look at how alike we are/aren't. Look at how special that makes us.

And of course there's the it's good for the writer bit. It's good for the writer. I mean 498 posts ago I was barely spitting out a sentence and now at half une mille (is my French right? It sounded bigger that way.) I ramble on and on and on. You can't win 'em all, but I'm happy you've stopped in.

Don't forget to stretch before you return for more exercises in the foolery, dave or otherwise.