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comment love — we all want it

Yeah, I say I write here for myself bla-bla-bla and it’s my place for self-expression bla-bla-bla and I like having a creative outlet, more bla, now with added etcetera….

But that’s only part of the truth. I also like to know you like me. Even if it’s only a little bit. Like, maybe, every once in a while you liked something I posted. Not the ugly rants from earlier today, or even pictures and video I swipe from Facebook or Youtube. I mean when I post something that’s maybe a little intimate. A family picture. A serious reflection on something that’s important to me.

I want to know that I’m somehow relevant in this opportunity for conversation that more often than not feels like a monologue. I appreciate the random comments. I try to respond to them, but I assure you I read them 🙂

So when a bot gets a hold of this blog, and I get insanity like this:

Wonderful beat ! I would like to apprentice even as you amend your website, how could i subscribe for a blog website? The account aided me a acceptable deal. I had been a little bit acquainted of this your broadcast provided bright transparent concept

It disappoints me because I thought it was somebody playing nice.

And then…I laugh. Because it’s funny. It’s like a really bad lorem ipsum explosion that wants to try to say something.

I always strive to have a bright transparent concept. Don’t you?

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today’s stupid brought to you by Sesame Street?

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I’m probably a little late to this dance, but I just heard that a teacher is suing her school system because she’s afraid of the children.

Let that sink in for a minute….

Here’s the New York Times article, but I’ll give you a little blurb:

A former teacher is suing the Cincinnati school district, saying she was discriminated against because of her rare phobia: a fear of young children.

You know what? I’m afraid of heights. One of my kids is afraid of spiders. I don’t work as a window washer. My kid isn’t an exterminator. Know what I mean?

Who becomes a teacher with a fear of children? C’mon! Enough already. Grow up and admit you don’t like middle schoolers (and really, who does when they are in a pack?). Own up to the fact that at age 60, you don’t want to deal with thirteen year olds after a comfortable career with older kids, and you wish to retire because you don’t want to do your job anymore. Nobody is going to judge. Much.

Meanwhile, can I get workman’s comp for excessive exposure to comma splices and pronoun antecedent agreement errors?

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