~I will not turn into a snake. It never helps.
2004-06-04 - 11:08 p.m.

How lovely! O Tim has fix-ed my laptop! *tired squee* (See the blog for more/brief details.)

Also, how lovely, a message from a stranger! In fact, I've had two messages from strangers. One was a guestbook entry for this diary. Isn't it just such a specialfying feeling when somebody is actually interested in my humble writings. Of course I find myself vastly interesting and entertaining, but I don't fool myself that it's neccesarily of the slightest interest to anybody else...well, I understand why my online friends might keep visiting, but that is all.

It's not so much that it's flattering when someone leaves a message (although, assuming it's a nice message, it is a nice boost to my rather fragile ego), as that I get a little buzzy-glowy feeling inside when I connect with somebody. I love reading people like Loobylu, but I often feel slightly jaded or something when I realise that I'm just one of many fans reading it and, really, whether I read or not will make no difference. I don't read others' journals and blogs purely for entertainment; there's something special about a real person's life and thoughts and following those. As a reader, I make a connection and that's a major part of what I enjoy. Even though I don't neccesarily desire to be chummy with the writer, I like the feeling that my readership matters to them personally.

So yes, a lovely guestbook message is like that to me. It does make a difference and I do deeply appreciate every nice message I get.

I also got a lovely email and guestbook entry (the other guestbook - they're both rather confused at the moment and I don't have time/patience to sort them out right now) from somebody who somehow stumbled upon my Said List. She even asked if I minded her sharing it with others. Can you believe it?? Of course, I don't really think It'll become some cult page like Peter's Evil Overlord List (I love that list!), but it's gratifying to think that something I've done is of some importance, however minor, to somebody else.

Both of these messages make this whole internet thing seem less like futile typing into the infinite depths of cyberspace than I sometimes imagine it to be.