Time Sync

Hi, my name's Dave and I'm a megablogger. It's been a day since I last blogged, and it will most likely happen again tomorrow because that's what megabloggers do. Not that I'm self-conscious about it or anything. Doesn't everybody write about their personal lives every single day for years on end? It was my wife's insistence that today's blog should be a real treat, a lollapalooza because it falls not just on Election Day, but Premiere Day. The movie that they made about my fellow megabloggers and myself will be projected for the select few who took the time and energy to make it all the way to watch all thirty-three minutes flash over the screen at the Dances With Films Festival.
Does it sound like those grapes that were so lovingly given to me are being returned on account of their relative sourness? It's probably because I remain so terribly ambivalent about having my face and name in the public eye. Given my regularly espoused distaste for reality television, I find myself wondering just how different a documentary about my personal quirks is any different than an episode of Hoarders. Well, since you asked, and you didn't, this is a film. It's not a TV show. It will appear in a theater, not someone's living room. The film's focus is scholarly, not simply prurient. It will be more like "An Inconvenient Truth" than The Osbournes. At least that's what I'm hoping.
The reality is this blog exists as a reality TV show. Sure, there are fewer pictures, and the sound is sketchy at best, but if you tune in here once a day you can find out how life feels to me. I don't mind sitting here behind the keyboard, tapping out anecdotes about my world and sharing them with anyone with a penchant for such things and the time to digest them, but turning a camera on that existence is just a little intimidating. Why else would I be making all manner of excuses for not making the trip down the coast to revel in my specialness with those who are just as special? I'm quite comfortable with faceless strangers dropping by to see what's going on inside my head, but meeting them might cause some sort of temporal anomaly, like an episode of Star Trek.
I've got a thousand excuses, but the truth as inconvenient as it might be, is that I am desperately committed to keeping my peculiar light under the bushel for which I have become so well known. I think of it as a kind of self-imposed glass ceiling. It's that strange mix of self-promotion that keeps me writing, but I won't post signs or put up advertisements pointing people in my direction. If you really want more of this, you'll have to come and find it. And that's just the kind of twisted logic that keeps me coming back to try and work out whatever it is on your free time. Unless you are currently standing in line to buy tickets to the premiere of "Friends You Haven't Met Yet," in which case I am providing you with a valuable service.
You're welcome.