We’re Not “Bloggers” Per Se

It started as an identity crisis of sorts.  Mention of the word “blog” or proclamation of the title “blogger” represent a fiery hell-chasm between connotative and denotative meaning. In the denotative sense, we’re on the Internet, maintaining a website through entries of commentary and media material displayed in reverse-chronological order to be consumed by the general Internet-faring public.  In the connotative sense, we’re co-opting failure into a lifestyle: we’re approaching 30 and have sallow complexions; we’re brave enough to troll anybody online and too cowardly to venture into the world purchase a replacement 3-pack of white undershirts; we’re baseless narcissists with an excessive amount of time, porn, microwavable food, and fermenting body odor; we’re hiding.  And so begins the stigma.

Every so often we’re bound to hold ourselves up to this profile and recognize that, in many cases, in 2009, it’s just not so.  At all.  There are a few options: we can go on a defensive rant insisting we’re hip as shit and that we lead full social lives brimming with euphoric sex and binge drinking (Ed. note: we do! College!) or we can scrap the words “blog” and “blogging” altogether.

So in attempt to realize the latter, I’ve come up with a few new titles.  Now when people ask if you’re a blogger, simply respond, “No, actually, I’m a:

Self-publishing online writer

Independently managed Internet explicator

Self-employed e-sociologist

Free-standing world pundit

Literary processor of Internet occurrences

Self-elected verbal media reflector

Theoretical thought-miner

Subjective Digestor of Predigested Internet Media Products

Online wordmonger

Shredder of Inter-gnar

World wide web contributing culture scientist

Self-powering comment machine

Real-life dream weaver

Professional masturbator

…and here’s my card.”