#170 In which our hero reveals hidden desires.

Today is the kick-off of NaBloPoMo, in which I’ve committed to posting every day of the month, starting today. And I’m already late by my self-imposed timetable. Doesn’t bode well for the rest of the month.

When considering undertaking this task, I sat back and asked myself why bother. I mean, yeah, there are prizes, but none of them are a big screen TV or something super exciting (even though they are all very nice, and the original painting by Matt Hooker is especially cool). But honestly, I never win these things. I’ve realized that there is a deeper reason that I not only entered NaBloPoMo, but that I keep on blogging in general.

I want to be an Internet superstar.

I find myself covetous of bloggers who seem to have a big following; whose posts regularly garner lots of comments. There seems to be a fairly small universe of “superstar bloggers” who name-check each other, driving traffic between their sites. I want to be one of those guys!

I’m not sure why… it’s an ego boost, of course, but it’s not like I judge my personal worth by the number of people reading my posts. Matter of fact, when more than one person comments on one of my posts, it’s usually to attack me. I’ve been called stupid, a shithead and, on one memorable occasion, a “scuz bucket” who was “more scuz than bucket” (I might have deserved that last one, at least a little bit).

Anyway, I continue to write. And I want people to read (and react) to my stuff. Maybe it’s because I think I can tell a decent story and want to share that ability with others; maybe it’s because I’m an attention whore; maybe it’s because I have something really, really wrong hidden deep inside by psyche.

Or maybe it’s just because, like the title says, I'm scripturient.