Random and mostly light musings

Comments have basically stopped, but I use Google Analytics. I know people are reading. If I didn't have GA, I probably would have stopped blogging. The funny thing is that readership is actually up (though you folks are silent). There was a period of time when I got a lot of hits due to the Ikea mattress story (gone, so no link). Even with all that traffic gone, after a year, it's back up to it's previous level. Yay!

Nonetheless, this blog is one big waste of my time, when I could be doing things that earn an income. 

What's been interesting to me about the Google Analytics is that the folks who visit this blog might pretty much come from "blue states." Is there something liberal about this blog? I suppose so. Posts about the evils of capitalism are, well, even more liberal than liberal.

I don't think of myself as a liberal. Doesn't matter.

I get the most hits from New York, California, Florida (retired New Yorkers?), Maine, Massachusetts, and Texas. I don't quite get Texas, though it's a big state. There are some states from which I don't recall ever having had a visitor, such as Utah. 

When I look at the Google Analytics "map overlay" of blog visitors, I think "edge." Visitors come primarily from the two coasts, and the borders of Canada and Mexico. Welcome, my fellow edge dwellers!

So, getting back to the "not thinking of myself as a liberal," I was thinking about identity last night (or this morning) when I could not sleep. The weather here has been awful: hot then cold and back again, with the occasional downpour, violent thunder storm (with hail), and high humidity. I've had a chronic sinus headache. I go to bed swaddled in blankets, nearly shivering, and wake up overheated and stuffed up. 

Wah.

Wait. I've gotten oh so off topic, haven't I?

Identity.

First off, I read the story about the surfer lesbian blogger who turned out to be an American man living in Scotland who was duped by the lesbian Syrian blogger who turned out to be another man. . ..where?. . .oh, I can't get it straight (no pun intended). Said one of these men, "I was trying to run an authentic blog."

He was so filled with delusions about himself that lying about his identity seemed honorable. 

Meanwhile, I write the truth. Too much of it, I'm sure. 'Tis a mistake in this day and age, both for self-marketing reasons and for reputation. Well, that's already ruined. 

While I couldn't sleep, I dipped into another of Carl Elliott's books, "Better Than Well: American Medicine Meets the American Dream." Elliott is such an easy and fun read. I love this fact, for he writes about topics that we all ought to be thinking about, and the fact that he makes bioethics so accessible ought to make him a household name. I suppose that's too much to ask of the American public when they'd prefer someone such as Dr. Phil. 

I read the chapter about people who want to have amputations. There was a lot about issues of identity. Folks who want medically unnecessary amputations use the language of identity to speak about their desire. 

Most of us talk about ourselves using identity language. We "are" mothers, teachers, writers, and artists. We "are" men, women, lesbians, and gay. We "are" people who have disabilities. You might ask, "How else would I say it?" True, but why do we feel we have to announce who and what we are when we meet people? Others can see "what" we are, and find out who we are through conversation and our actions. I suppose that's too darned slow. It also means one really has to interact.

I've had a lot of trouble thinking about myself this way, as a something, and throughout my life I've felt I should at least try.

But, in the end, I just can't seem to get with the program. I am not an anything. I've said this countless times, and written about it fairly often. Some people say to me, "But, Julie, you are an artist!" Nope. 

I just happen to be able to draw. I just happen to be able to do a lot of things.

I just happen to be a woman, but no one has said to me, "Wait, Julie, you are a woman!," though as I've written about before (somewhere), one person did say to me, "I'm more of a woman than you'll ever be." That drag queen was right.

I don't "feel like" anything except a person. Luckily I have that, at least. Otherwise I'd be in trouble, no?

More about this to come. Right now I'm seriously sleep deprived and this brain of mine is not working. 

Why on earth am I blogging?

Image note: Found this map at Irregular Times (no endorsement - haven't even read it). It could be a map of my readership. Hmm.

Addendum of ruthless honesty: No one comments 'cause I'm just too damned opinionated, and no nicey-nice. Oh well. That is not going to change. Is this the beginning of finding an "identity?"