I haven’t been paying attention. The place changes so fast.
I find it is a healthy and normal internet activity to Google oneself™. While some might characterize this activity as self-indulgent and call it “ego-surfing,” those 21st-century web-savvy digitally-enabled electronically-mobile young semi-professionals amongst us… we know better. We’ve got enough stuff up on The Internet that the FBI doesn’t even have to ask us where we were four nights ago—we’ll tell them. I’d suppose, what with all this stuff lying around right here on this website, that I am counted among the no-privacy generation.
So I should really know (since I’m in charge of it) what about me is going up on the web. That’s half the idea of this glot-thing: to manage digital identity—all my junk in one pile. I was amused yesterday when a friend stumbled on an article about how to dump your travel partner that featured one of my Flickr photos. They’re all Creative Commons licensed, which means anyone can use ’em so long as they say who took ’em. Then today, for whatever reason, I decided instead of googling my name I would google my flickr name.
I found a lot.
At first it seems these two illustrious countries have nothing to do with one another.
Sweden, land of fjords, vikings, linganberry wine, and (if my travels overseas are any indication) a whole lotta amazingly-accented Indian girls. And the The Philippines! What can I say? You’ve got volcanoes that can evacuate entire regions of space, I hear sometimes you fish with dynamite, and you probably still have that beer brand with a monkey. What could these two possibly have in common? If you said, “nothing”… Ha! Well, that is true, except for maybe one thing: in the past week, stray webfarers in both those countries happen to have visited this friggin’ site. This thing actually gets read in other countries. I am an ambassador to the world, whether you believe it or not, world.
Not since the Rocky Horror Discovery Scare of ’04 have I even been conscious that there might be people poring over The Glot, people I hadn’t personally met. Looking for information. Googling “checklist+post+death+planning” in all seriousness, only to find my smarmy, self-bemused, wholly
overrated misrepresented site pinging their naive Googledar. What if that Swede’s only brother just died, in a sled crash involving drunk reindeer perhaps, leaving that poor Swede to make all the funeral arrangements? He doesn’t know the steps! He needs me to tell him. And what do I wanna do? Get into a bar fight over beer nuts. Wonder of wonder, horror of Rocky Horrors!
Every goal has a dark side. I would like to make my
blog glot a place where more people would like to visit. Even have another entity appreciate my silly writing. One outside the immediate single genetic degree of family. A human entity too, since those lurky MSNbots obviously get a hearty kick outta my material already. Comment, damned robots! But every once in a while, you’re gonna have to disappoint some grieving Swede. That’s life. Seriously though—who wants to plan post-death? Not a lot of forethought in that search, boy-o.
Sweden and Philippines, I give you my hat tip. You may not have found my site useful. You may not have stayed longer than a minute. You may have even web-snorted in contempt at this tiny, indulgent, gaudy, blog-like, and oversyllablistic web-shite that Google mis-pinged to you… maybe. I thank you for your votes of confidence nonetheless.