50 Years and 500 Posts
This might be a self-indulgent post. If you think so, I’ll understand. Still, it’s tough to resist. I noticed last week that my post about introverts was my 499th blog entry. I also realized that my 50th birthday was on the day that I normally publish something on my blog. If I kept to my normal schedule, I would publish Dysfunctional Literacy’s 500th post on my 50th birthday.
So here it is, my 500th post on my 50th birthday.
My 50th birthday feels kind of weird. My daughters keep saying the word “fifty” around me. A few months ago, I thought about having a Nifty Fifty party, but I don’t like parties, and I would have felt uncomfortable being the center of attention at my own party. I didn’t want to spend my 50th birthday feeling uncomfortable. If my wife wants to have a party for her own Nifty Fifty (which won’t be for a while), I wouldn’t mind throwing her a party because I wouldn’t have to be the center of attention.
I didn’t know if I should do anything outlandish for my 500th blog entry either. Maybe I should have done a BEST OF DYSFUNCTIONAL LITERACY 500th POST CELEBRATION. But that might have come across as obnoxious. Some of my posts are obnoxious, but I didn’t want my 500th post to be obnoxious. If I get to 1,000 posts, I’ll do something obnoxious. I might even throw a party.
Just so you know, it didn’t take me 50 years to write 500 posts. I started blogging just under five years ago. I’m not sure how long it takes most bloggers to reach 500 posts. Right now my goal is to write at least one post per week, but sometimes I’ll get two if I think of an extra idea. At one point, I was writing three posts, but I was really grouchy around the house trying to keep up with my writing, so my wife told me to cut back. I can write one post each week without getting grouchy. It’s not that I get grouchy when I write. I get grouchy when I write and get interrupted, and with my family, there are almost always interruptions.
500 posts seems like a lot to me. I can’t even remember what most of them were about. It’s probably a bad sign that I can’t remember most of what I wrote. Either I have a bad memory, or most of my writing is forgettable. I’m not sure which is worse.
I wonder if it’s normal for writers to forget what they’ve written. Has Stephen King forgotten about some of his early short stories? Has James Patterson ever forgotten a novel that somebody else wrote for him? That would be great, to make lots of money from a book that you forgot somebody else wrote for you.
Maybe it’s not a big deal to not remember everything I wrote. I don’t remember every day of my life either. I would like to remember something from every day of my life, but the human brain probably isn’t capable of that. My daughters keep journals where they write their favorite and least favorite event of each day. I hope they keep those journals. They started writing those journals a couple years ago, so they won’t be able to recall every day from their early childhoods, but at least they will have decent records of their teenage years. Those journals would be great for them to have when they’re 50. I hope I’m around to see it, but that would make me about…
Uh, never mind. I’m pretty sure I can make it, but I don’t want to plan that far ahead. I don’t even know what I’m going to write about next week.
What do you think? Do you remember everything you have written? At what number of posts would you do an obnoxious BEST OF… for your blog? What’s a good alternative to throwing a party if you don’t like being at parties?