The Day I Got Censored on the Blog That Must Not Be Named

If you read yesterday's post, you might have noticed that one of my proposed blog topics was "my reaction to getting censored by the Men with Pens". Since I went on to talk about the Men (as a blog and individually) several times...okay, a lot in my post, I started referring to their blog as the "Blog That Must Not Be Named (again)" - BTMNBE(a). 'Cuz really, I wasn't trying to lure them by using their names.

James dropped by anyway, so I'm bound to tell this story. I think it's some sort of a law...

My tale of censorship

A few weeks ago, or thereabouts, I was reading a post on the aforementioned btmnbe(a) entitled, "One Easy Way to Clearly Convey Your Message". I loved the post and the comments, but didn't think I had too much value to add to the conversation, so I sat on my hands and moved on to another post.

I'd been away for a few days, so the guys had another post (with comments) for me to read. "How to Exceed Expectations" -- my fingers were itching to comment, not to mention numb from being sat on for so long, so I let my fingers fly. Well...my brain may have engaged at some point during the comment stage -- guess I can't blame the whole incident on my fingers.

A little background...

I'm not a prude. I never really cursed much as a young teen; it was just a personal choice -- I didn't use slang either. At nineteen I went through a sort of a cursing rampage. I was learning to use the words (badly) and using them all the time -- trying to fit in...it was horrible. Have you seen those stereotypical geeks in the movies trying to hang with the cool kids? That was me. Even thinking about it brings on waves of...something.

I digress. The point is, once I grew beyond that gangly stage, I grew up a little more and decided that on a whole cursing's not for me (to do - you can curse all you like; you're not me). I throw in a word or two for flavor every now and then, but I didn't even add "frak" to my general vocabulary.

Back to the comment...

I curb my cursing when I speak. I tend to think a couple of times before I curse in print. When I used a "profanity" in my comment, I debated and edited before finally putting the word back in and hitting "Submit" before I changed my mind again. I said, "...I'm tired of being fear's bitch...." All in all, I didn't think that was too bad. It was right for the context. It got the point across concisely. I didn't think anybody would mind.

Subscribe to Comments -- via email

I love to follow conversations on blogs. Some, like Friar's, I have to do by random drive-by because I don't check my reader often enough to know if someone is commenting on a conversation I'm following. I love the "Notify me by email" option. So, my handy notifier pops up to tell me that another comment's been made on "How to Exceed Expectations".

Back to the conversation...

I thank my little notifier, but let him know that his services are no longer necessary. I don't need to click through. I've already got Men with Pens open in a browser window. I scroll down to find the new comment -- but I don't see my name as I go down the page. I remember reading most of these comments. Mine would be about...here? Nope. Not there...That's just paranoia talking. Hmmm...Maybe I'm overlooking it. I should look again. Wait, what was that?!

"James on June 19th, 2008 5:32 pm *chases with a big stick* GET THAT WORD OFF MY BLOG, DAMMIT!"

Pottymouth censored? ...Wait...what?...

What does one call written profanity anyway. "Pottymouth" should be for speech. Pottypinkies?

No, he can't be talking to me...can he? Maybe my post is further down...it's got to be. It wasn't that bad...it was only "bitch". They wouldn't really delete me and yell at me for that...would they? I don't see my comment! He must have been talking to me. He didn't send email to let me know that I was being censored, though.... Would he? What do I do now? Write an apology in the comments? Email an apology? Slink away?

Rationality rears its head...

Take a deep breath and think about this, Green. My internal editor calls me "Green". Start at the top and read the comments again. Maybe there's a clue about who you offended. Maybe someone said something before James deleted your comment. Maybe...whatever, just read -- really read, don't skim. Read every comment.

Okay, I remember that one...and that one...and...and...and...that one's new to me...and

"Michael Martine Remarkablogger on June 19th, 2008 4:46 pm YOU COULD USE VIDEO.
(Ducks and runs…) Michael Martine Remarkablogger’s last blog post..Beginner SEO for Anyone" -- immediately precedes James's comment on getting the word off the blog. Okay. That makes sense. That's actually kind of funny...or it would be if I could figure out what to do about my comment being deleted.

Fear retreats. After all, I'm not fear's bitch, right?

My panic reflex is relaxing a bit. So, I've been censored, but not censored AND yelled at. I don't know why that makes me feel better, but there it is. Now to figure out my next steps. I'm reading the new comments, now, the ones that have been posted since I last checked. The brain kicks in again. My comment totally did not belong among the comments I'm reading. How could I be so far off the mark? No wonder James deleted "me". What was I even thinking?

You're not stupid, Stupid.

You're not stupid, Stupid. My internal editor's very straightforward. She has to be. Sometimes she even repeats herself to make a point. Would you really make a comment that's so far removed from the other comments as to be part of another conversation altogether?...

Does anybody with half a brain see where this is going?

Oh, that's right...this is the one I read but didn't comment on. In the words of Gilda Radner's little confused lady character from SNL whose name escapes me, "Well, that's very different...". Click....Scroll.... Yup, comment's still there, bitch and all. Nobody even seems to have noticed...and here I've been, all worked up over nothing.

It'll make a funny story some day....

Eating Is Good For You...Who Knew?

Dave Navarro's post on sleeping was the first thing I saw in my reader this morning. I thought about it, processed the parts that don't apply to me, and made a mental note to come back for the parts that did apply. I thought about folks I know who might benefit from the series, and then went on with my day.

I've been dragging a good part of the day, no matter how I tried to ignore it. I even planned (sort of) a post that tied in to Dave's, with an age aspect built in because I've been told that I'm old a few times today. I had all these one-liners and quirky commentary ready to go, but when I sat to write, nothing made sense.

My first thought was, "Sleep now, write tomorrow," but too many people have been telling me lately that I can and will if I believe, that I quit too soon, that I need to exceed my expectations, tell myself to shut up, and so on, and so on, ad nauseum. All I wanted to do was go to bed, people! Cut me some slack already. So I try to re-think instead of retreating, and my internal editor puts in her two cents, You're not really tired. Now I'm ready to tell her to shut up. I've already told myself that I'm not really tired (even though I'm sleepy). I don't need her telling me again.

You're not really sleepy. I can't fight everything at once, so I listen. What did you eat today? Taken aback, I stopped to think. What did I eat today? I got up at 6 and waited on my son. I played the good mommy when he got up at 10; he wouldn't normally get French toast on a weekday, but it's the first week of summer break at home. He went to a friend's; I went to the store for dinner ingredients. He did dinner at friend's house and I.... So it's 21:45 (my dad was military, "There's only one 9:45 in a day.") and my total food intake for the day was two slices of French toast. I hate it when that witch is right.

I went off to forage and came back to write. There has been some improvement in brain function, but I'm not sure how much. In future posts, I'll tell you about the dangers of the middle flame; how youth can age you; and how to make the perfect barbecue sauce. That's for the future, though, so, here's the recap for now: sleep deprivation is bad; getting up early to get more done after having slept enough is good; taking in too few calories can wipe you out no matter how much sleep you've had.

I've still got 10 minutes to make this post "today". It's 10 minutes to midnight, so I'm not quitting too soon, but I'm shortchanging myself on sleep tonight -- I'll be up at 6 tomorrow. Oh well, maybe I'll fire on all cylinders next time. I forgot about the hyperlinks...more time burned.

Ego. What a Mind-trip!

Welcome, Friends,

I'm back! Did you miss me?

I'm laughing in my brew over here, checking myself out in the mirror, and watching me shake my head ruefully. I realize that no one even noticed that I was gone. I hadn't been around long to start with, was just starting to comment here and there -- and it's not like people were actually coming to my blogs.

I had been posting pretty regularly here, and had a schedule for posting on my business blogs. Then I started getting overwhelmed -- too much life, too little time. The first thing that slipped was my schedule for business blogging. I plan to post on Thursdays. If I miss a Thursday, do I post on the next available day (and throw things off), or on the next Thursday (and go a week without a post). So, I fell behind. Too much was going on; I needed a break.

As I was considering this break, I read other posts about taking breaks from blogging. The one I remember most is from the Men with Pens. I appreciated the insights from the blogs and comments, but had to make my own decision. If I left my blog(s) for a while, would my readers come back?

As I pondered this weighty decision, my internal editor cracked up and nearly fell off her barstool. "You are your reader, ya idjit!" She cackled between gasps. "Will your readers come back?" She snorted indignantly and began giggling hysterically again. After a good laugh at my expense, she calmed down again and left me to think. I know that they don't just come if you build it (but that's another blog post); I know that I'm likely to be the only one reading my posts for a while yet; I know that becoming part of a community takes time; and I know that I'm not quite there yet. I guess I didn't know that I had so firmly enmeshed my ego with my blog presence that I had actual concerns about taking a break from reading/writing my own press. How's that for ego?