Good evening everyone! Well it’s official: In nine short hours both of our children will officially be in school. The Boo Bear starts her two days a week of preschool in the morning. I’m pretty sure it will go just as it did with The Boy when he started six years ago. Excitement as we walk through the doors of the school then a little sadness as we make the long two block hike back to the house without any kids. Irregardless, now cometh the latest and greatest edition of The Diatribe!
Yet another catastrophic event befell me this week. It was significant enough that I stopped working on the Diatribe I was typing on and put me on my heels. Oh America, it was the first of this particular type of horrifying tragedy and I didn’t know what to do with myself! I moped around the house, whined, and yes even caterwauled a bit. What could possibly have eclipsed even my distressing episode of being “That Guy”? Well, (be brave…you can say it) someone stopped following our page on Facebook!
Imagine my surprise to fire up my handy dandy little phone in the morning only to see that the number of followers on our Facebook page had dropped by precisely one person. I was *long sigh* crestfallen. How could this have happened?! Was I not entertaining? Did they not like our photos? Hundreds of possibilities and self-deprecating thoughts rushed through my sleep fogged brain. There must be some way for me to find out who left my precious and fledgling little flock and find out what our falling out was caused by. So before you think I went all stalker on them you should know that Facebook protects the identity of the person responsible for this devastating blow to my ego.
And there it is…my ego. As I walked around the house in my jammies and slippers I started to think about this a little bit and came to a couple of conclusion. First, I need new slippers. These have seen better days. Second, I need to stop acting like a whiny little twit, dry it up, build a bridge over the Oh Woe Is Me River, and get the hell over it. Ego. It amazes me how big of a stumbling block three little letters and two syllables can be if you let it.
Well through some positive self affirmations and a couple of bandages on my wounded feelers, I was able to patch my fragile persona back together again. Remember Stewart Smalley from Saturday Night Live? Yeah, it was kind of like that.
First of all, I hold no delusions of grandeur when it comes to my writing. I know that scholars in the next century will not be making a place for The Dooley Diatribe among the literary classics of our day. My spasmodic use of commas alone will definitely preclude me from, that list. (I know. I put the comma there on purpose.)
Secondly, I am not defined by the number of followers I have on the social media format of the day. I never have been, and never will be. It goes back to that blog where I introduced myself to everyone: If you don’t like me or what I have to write…I don’t care. This still isn’t some blasé or flippant statement, I actually mean it. I didn’t decide to start this blog because I wanted to be a charter member of the “We Love Dooley” fan club. I did it because I enjoy writing, it’s therapeutic, and I actually think I’m hilarious. Plus, it gives me some type of creative outlet so I don’t write like this in my emails at work (some of you know exactly what I’m talking about).
I would be disappointed in myself if this person left because I said something offensive. It’s not my goal to be offensive or controversial. If they left because I am not standing here pontificating my religious or political views I can only say this: “Bye Felicia”. Those types of people are why I have blocked a lot of folks from my various pages. I’m just not interested. If you are one of those people, here’s a little secret: 98% of the worlds population isn’t interested either.
Maybe there’s something to this line of thinking. Think of how things would change if more people stopped thinking the world revolves around them, realized they weren’t such a big deal, and got over themselves and their ego. But then again, not everyone will bounce back quite as well as I did after losing exactly one follower.
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