Last night, I wrote about what was going on with me at the time, which was that I was still thinking about LOTR.

Today, Ashley commented to my thoughts on LOTR with the following:

…[Y]es, i did try to get harlan a dog but i in no way think he is dying to talk to any of us. i don’t even know why he reads any comments or has this blog other than the fact that he enjoys his self pity. i think harlan needs help. he is a depressive or an agoraphobic or something. i care about what happens to him because he is a human being and we all feel the way he ALWAYS feels some of the time. but i’m bored reading this because all of these strangers are trying to give harlan advice and all he does is blow it off so he can bitch and moan about not getting laid and living a life uncomfortable in his own skin. harlan, do you ever read the news? do you know that iraqi children can’t even play outside for fear of being blown up? or that women in saudi arabia are beaten and sentenced to jail for being gang-raped? i’m over this blog. you’re too selfish and self-obsessed to recognize there is a world of REAL problems out there, other than someone like you CHOOSING to life a miserable life and die alone because you don’t want to get help.

Since Ashley says she isn’t going to read my blog anymore, I guess it doesn’t really matter how I reply to her, because she won’t see it.

Of course, I’m probably a lot different than Ashley in that any time I’ve written a flame comment in a blog or newsgroup and said I’m not coming back anymore, what really happens is I start coming back about ten times more often, because I want to see how people react to my flame.

But then, if someone does reply to my comment, I’m left in a pickle. I can’t reply back because I said I wasn’t going to come back anymore, even though I have a really great comeback.

Sometimes, I log in as a different person and post that comeback in defense of me (”Hey, I think Harlan’s right because…”), to get around that quandary. I’m sure that’s something Ashley wouldn’t do, though. Because, as she mentioned, she is bored with me and over me.

So I guess it’s really lucky for Ashley that she isn’t at all like me, because if she were, she’d see my response below to her, and then she’d probably want to comment again, but would know she couldn’t, because she said she was over this blog.

So here’s what my reply would be to Ashley, if Ashley were here:

  1. Ashley, when I’m bored of something on TV, I change the channel, but I don’t write a 200 word rant to the network. When I’m bored of a blog, I remove it from my RSS reader, but don’t leave a foaming, flaming sack of shit on the doorstep as I leave. Why should I? I’m bored. It’s not worth my time. You, on the other hand, went on and on and on about how I need help and therapy and your diagnosis of my mental health based on the teeny tiny window of my life I expose to you — in response to some observations I made about my favorite movie trilogy. That’s not the mark of boredom. That’s the mark of someone who needs to adjust the dosage of her meds.
  2. Ashley, I may or may not know about current events and the trouble around the world. I haven’t told you. For all you know, I may give 25% of my net every month to the Red Cross and spend ten hours a week working at the homeless shelter. One thing is for certain, though: you don’t know me well enough to judge and scold me like that.
  3. Ashley, we never made a contract — not even an informal one — that I would accept and heed advice. I write this blog because I want to. You are welcome to offer comments, but you if you feel like I betrayed you because I didn’t do what you say when you offered your unasked for advice, that’s your problem, not mine. If I want a dog, I’ll get one. And I don’t want a dog, by the way.
  4. Ashley, when your parents told you to eat your vegetables because there are kids starving in China, did you ever wonder what that had to do with anything, or did you just accept the fallacy and dig in? I ask, because you are using the exact same argument on me. “Harlan, stop feeling bad because there are kids in Iraq who have a bad life, and there are women in Saudi Arabia who have a bad life, too.”
  5. Ashley, I started this blog because I feel alone. I started it, by the way, about three months ago. I’m pretty sure you started reading it no more than two weeks ago. Did you really think that my life would change significantly in those two weeks — or even in those three months, just because I started a blog and got some great advice from you? Have you ever considered that some people take more than 90 days to get over a problem that’s been plaguing them for pretty much ever? Or were you thinking your advice would flip some magic switch in my brain, and I’d say, “Oh, that’s the problem!” and then turn into Matt Damon and send you a bunch of flowers with a nice card thanking you for fixing me? The sum of your advice, by the way, has been “Get a dog and get help.” You think I need therapy?! Wow, thanks for the epiphany! Nobody’s ever told me that before. I’m curious (actually, I’m not curious, that’s a rhetorical device): what major personal difficulties of your own have you resolved in the past couple weeks?
  6. Ashley, I’m about 80% certain you are either my sister or her spiritual clone. You know, the sister I will do practically anything to avoid because she’s always nagging me to be more normal and get help and stop moaning and think of someone else for a change. My sister, by the way, is known by everyone in the world, even her youngest child who cannot yet speak, as a nag.

I guess it’s a good thing that Ashley isn’t reading this, or I’m sure she’d be pretty upset with me right now. But she isn’t reading this, which is just as well. Because I — unlike some people I know — realize that a flame mail / blog post / comment / whatever isn’t going to change anybody’s mind.

Here’s the thing though. This blog post perfectly illustrates why I don’t comment very often in my blog. I get all wound up and spend half an hour writing, rewriting, editing, second-guessing and fretting over my three line reply, which if I’m not careful winds up being a crazy tirade that misses the original point of the comment. And then I obsessively reload the comments page, waiting to see what the reaction is.

Basically, I don’t comment in this blog or in any of the 20 or so that I read daily because it would eat up my life. That doesn’t mean I don’t read your comments. I read all of them, usually several times.

You know what? I just realized something. I’m able to write stuff for this blog because I get to choose the topic. It’s like giving a presentation for work (which I hate, but I can do it if I have to). I don’t like to comment for the same reason I have a hard time with casual conversations. I don’t know what’s coming next and I don’t have time to prepare.

This was supposed to be a 10 line post. It kind of ran away from me.

Isolation Score: 6