I woke up late this morning, and not being in any hurry to get to work, I lazily surfed the Daily Blog Tips site, looking for advice and suggestions that I could apply to my own blog. I came across one post that linked to this article on how bloggers can use social networking sites like StumbleUpon to boost their traffic. So with nothing better to do 10 minutes before I had to head on to work, I submitted my blog post about women emulating men, yawned, then went to get dressed. My jaw unhinged and dropped when I went back to check my stats one last time.

The result of that seemingly innocuous submittal was the biggest traffic count I’ve ever seen since I started this blog. I generated over 50 visits in just under 15 minutes, and it was still going strong by the time I left for work.

I think I may have stumbled onto something here (uhhh, no pun intended). To be honest though, I wasn’t able to wrap my head around the appeal of social networking sites, partly because I couldn’t understand exactly how some of them worked. Sites like StumbleUpon, Flickr, YouTube and Last.FM (all of which I belong to) were easy enough to figure out, but places like Del.icio.us, Digg and Reddit made less sense to me. I think part of it might be because I wasn’t interested in what the most “digged” articles or highest ranked posts of the day happened to be. That perspective might change though as I give these sites a harder look. But one thing that will never, ever change is my utter disdain for places like MySpace, and other social networks that emulate them. The ilk you find at these online ghettos is something I just can’t abide by.

After thinking about what I wrote earlier about being set apart, I realized it isn’t people I don’t want to associate myself with: it’s ugly people. Not physically ugly mind you, but people who just don’t know how to be civilized. You see it all the time on MySpace and YouTube sites. People who drop f-bombs in comments for YouTube videos that show nothing more than a harmless clip of Big Bird singing on Sesame Street. People who feel the compelling need to take snapshots of their hairy buttingtocks and moon me on MySpace. Why? Why do they do this? Why must people always be so utterly depraved and tasteless? All I want is a little civility, to be able to enjoy surfing to a Peter Cetera’s MySpace page without seeing disgusting, lewd (and illegal) photos in the comments, or enjoy a YouTube video without some schmuck cluttering up the comments with mindless f-bombs. Crikey mate, get a grip you psychotic blokes.

Fortunately, though, I may have stumbled (again, no pun intended) onto a way to draw some of the better quality Internet surfers out there to my home on the web, all by making legitimate use of the social networking tools. I have to figure by doing so, eventually a few gems will end up at my doorstep and become regular readers, even if it means they had to ride a wave of sewage to get here.

Paradoxically, the kind of people I’d like visit to my blog would actually be those who are unfamiliar with Internet usage. I know it’s strange, but I think I’d enjoy the perspective of folks who rarely use computers (much less the Internet) more than those who basically spend their entire lives online (like I do). My hearing loss precludes me from being able to enjoy a healthy and active social life, so to compensate I do a lot of my talking through the keyboard. Still, I think it’d be nice to meet people (specifically a hot babe), who could pull me into the real world, and help me enjoy all that it has to offer there.

But until then, gotta keep on surfing.

….when I can now enjoy the fresh episodes of Stargate SG-1 and Atlantis?

I got my tub of Blockbuster popcorn, a nice tall glass of Diet Cola, and the easy chair all geared up and ready to go. Ahhh, a Friday night all to myself. Maybe now I’ll be able to forget about how Uptown Girl strung me along for months and then finally blew me off, the no-good lying backstabbing Babylonian harlot may she choke on her own vomit.

But I’m not upset about it.

I kinda knew deep down that things wouldn’t get very far with her. Not so much because we came from two different worlds, but also because she gave off the vibe of being an emotionally cold, self indulgent woman. If she truly had a kind heart, one that showed a genuine care and concern for others, then why was she working for a law firm that catered only to rich clients? Why wasn’t her heart drawn to helping less fortunate people, victims of wrongdoing who never see justice only because they simply couldn’t afford it? Why didn’t she take time to volunteer for charitable work? Where was that trait I was so earnestly looking for, of a woman who was willing to stretch forth her hand to the poor and needy? She just didn’t have it.

It was clear instead that she enjoyed living the good life. Sipping wine, vacationing to exotic places, tanning on beaches, jacuzzis, massages, and so on, the kind of life she could only sustain by working for an affluent law firm. Yet, I don’t begrudge her for doing these things. I think there’s a time and place for recreation and fun, but I also think there’s a point where your life becomes so hedonistic that it can corrupt your soul. And even though she professed to be a Christian, spirituality to her was something that was summed up in attending church once a week, and nothing more. She was not one I could share deep discussions about my faith with. And this was a maddening mentality I’ve seen repeatedly before which I could never understand. How can people truly expect to placate God by only dedicating a few hours on Sunday to Him, and then completely forget about Him for the rest of the week? Can they honestly believe He is pleased by this display of lukewarm spirituality?

Through my emails I opened my heart up to her, and though she claims to have been touched by it, I knew she really wasn’t. There was no empathy, no concern for my well-being, no genuine interest in how I was dealing with the aggravation and problems I was currently experiencing in my life, even though I was certainly interested in what her daily afflictions might have been. But the thing is, she didn’t have any. Suffering for her was not being able to sip wine on her patio because it rained.

She wasn’t a bad person though. But she wasn’t a good person either. I began to realize all this early on, but I guess I held on anyway, hoping against hope that maybe she would surprise me. Maybe she would indeed have a soft and gentle soul, tuned in to the suffering of others, with a fire inside her that yearned to alleviate their burdens and comfort those that needed comforting. Maybe the apparent coldness she seemed to give off was just borne out of an understandable hesitation to open up to me. Maybe for once, my sixth sense was just wrong here.

Or maybe not.

Now it’s back to enjoying Friday nights all by myself again, with only a tub of popcorn and a teddy bear named Homer to keep me company.