Making the Connection

February 2008

February 2008 (Photo credit: mickebear)

Daily Prompt: The Stat Connection

Go to your Stats page and check your top 3-5 posts. Why do you think they’ve been successful? Find the connection between them, and write about it.

The stats page gives me a headache so I rarely open it up, but today I’ll make an exception for the sake of the Daily Prompt.  My most popular post of all time happened on February 27th of this year, the momentous day on which almost 600 people popped by to view whatever nonsense I was going on about on that particular day, even though it was nothing new or different or even particularly clever.  A normal day here appears to be about 60 views.  The stats page doesn’t tell us what percentage of these views are purely accidental, but I suspect it’s at least half.

I’m no statistician but that has never stopped me from making wild conjectures on any blog related topic.  And let’s face it, all topics are fair game when it comes to the blogging world.  What I’m pretty sure happened on February 27th is the WordPress Statometer got hit by lightning, resulting in a power surge and scrambled stats for this blog for all time.  My other theory, in case that one isn’t right, has to do with tags.  People search for the damnedest things.  Apply all the recommended tags even if they don’t make any sense in relation to whatever you’ve written, and see what happens.  Or you could just mention Johnny Depp. That one is pure magic.

My top 3-5 posts and pages include my home page/archives, the oxymoron poem (which I wrote from memory and had nothing at all to do with creating), my May Post for Peace (begging the question – what’s wrong with the rest of the months?) a couple of book and movie reviews, and a post in which I mentioned astrology, horoscope and tarot cards. 

The magic connection here is brain fog.  I am convinced that all of my followers suffer from it.  Except you of course.  You and I are perfectly normal.  The stats prove that.  I haven’t yet figured out exactly how they do that, but they don’t lie.  That’s all we really need to know.

English: American actor Johnny Depp.

English: American actor Johnny Depp. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The final mystery today that even the stats people might have difficulty solving is why the media gallery thought this post required a picture of some random bald guy wearing a curtain.  Surely more interesting things have occurred in the month of February.  Or maybe not.  I am now being prompted to apply a cartomancy tag to this post, even though I  have only a vague notion of what that might be, and the spell checker is telling me I haven’t spelled it correctly.

My point is…. in blogging, the pursuit of connectivity can make you cry.  I strongly advise against it.  Just mention Johnny Depp at every possible opportunity, and your stats will eventually go right off the charts.

J is for Jabberwocky

J is also for Johnny Depp, and his inspired version of Jabberwocky in the Alice in Wonderland movie.

Jabberwocky, the unedited version, by Lewis Carroll

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

I love the poem (most poems make exactly this much sense to me) and I love that movie, and what can I say about Johnny Depp that hasn’t already been said?  Probably by me?

We’ve had a perfectly beamish day, picking up a mimsy new filing cabinet at uffish old Wal-Mart and then galumphing back home to put it together.  My magical housekeeping fervor continues.  Callooh callay, this vorpal stack of papers is finally going to get filed!  I expect to feel quite brillig once it’s all done.

The One Who Got Away

I assume we’re not talking about fish here. So where do I begin – there have been so many. (Insert little sarcastic eye rolling face here)

That phrase conjures up some nasty images. Devious women furtively scheming to bag one of those unsuspecting men who are wandering around loose out there and incarcerate him for life. Well, maybe that’s a little too forceful. Keep him in protective custody? Never letting him GET AWAY, at any rate.

When my sister brought home her future husband our mother told her she should try really hard not to let this one get away. We thought that was hilarious. I’d like to point out that she never gave ME that advice about W. Who knows what her reasons were. I don’t want to think too hard about it because one of us is sure to have our feelings hurt if we ever get it figured out. Whatever. He’s now been around for close to forever, so if he gets away at this point I suppose I can safely say I did my best.

Okay. The ones that got away, in chronological order:

Harvey in grade three. Because it’s hard for nine-year olds to make any kind of long-term committment.

John in highschool. Because he was so intense it terrified me and I ran away screaming. Well not literally, but that’s close enough to the truth.

Chris one summer. Because summer flings aren’t meant to last past labour day weekend.

Cecil in college. Because we were both very drunk the night we met and unable to recognize each other the next day.

Bruce. Because he was just too besotted and I wasn’t really into having my own personal slave.

Larry. Because he wasn’t besotted at all, except maybe with himself and his devastatingly handsome mirror image.

Want to know the advice my mother DID give to me? No matter, I’m telling you anyway. She said “Good marriages don’t just happen, you have to work at them.” So either she knew W. needed a lot of work, or she knew how incredibly lazy I can be putting any kind of effort into anything, including my own life.

I still let things get away from me. Brilliant ideas that never make it on to paper, people who might have been excellent friends but one of us moved away and we lost touch, possessions that know how to go missing with no help from me I swear; whole days with nothing much accomplished.

And what does that picture of Johnny Depp have to do with all of this you might ask? Well, nothing really. I just like looking at him.

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