Electronic Boundaries

It occurs to me that I've committed a faux pas. Like my students who forget to turn their phones off in the classroom, or send me ridiculously casual emails, I've forgotten the electronic boundaries; or, rather, I didn't think about what they might be prior to charging through them. So, like a dog with an electric fence, I've learned my lesson.

I can hear all of you now, "What?"

What I write here in blogspace is meant to be consumed. I'd be hard pressed to make an argument that anything I write here is "private." Heck, I don't even thing my anonymity is real, but I choose to maintain the facade just in case. Because I just joined and so many of the people I follow are bloggers, I'd forgotten that Twitter is a more private space. I should have known better. I joined it to continue a conversation with a friend on the other side of the country. Consequently, it was wrong of my to post about anything anyone else said there, especially since I knew the comment was not directed at me. So, Black Hockey Jesus, thank you for the recognition and not calling me out on such a blatant abuse of your privacy.

Impending doom

Class doesn't start until 1pm so I won't have a wreck analysis for you until then.

Until then, I have a story of woe, shame, and maybe vindication. Last night, one of my favorite bloggers Black Hockey Jesus posted a tweet telling all bloggers to stop with the boring lists. Now, while I follow his tweets, read The Wind in Your Vagina like it is crack cocaine and all of that I guarantee he does not know or care about my boring lists. You, however, are probably a different story. Consequently, I'll do my best not to post lists. Sometimes, a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

In lieu of list is going to be a BHJ/Dooce style bid for recognition. I think BHJ is still working on his quest for recognition from the almighty Dooce. I'm going to aim my sites differently and work for Black Hockey Jesus recognition. Hey, maybe he'll even send me a ghost or an imaginary friend or just some of those hip thong panties. Watch out Lucy, I love Calamari.

I know I'm not in the lofty, windy heights of Black Hockey Jesus bloggerdom; and, I don't even have kids. What I do know is that I understand his post-modern, existentially influenced philosophical view of the world. I just don't quite have to poetry to express in the same way. So, Black Hockey Jesus, in the immortal words of Laura Roslyn, "I AM COMING FOR ALL OF YOU!"