Shouting into the Void.

Save for a few bands and a very few fashion trends, I have never been in on trends early. I’m not one of the cool kids. I’m too cheap to worry about new tech, too old too care about cutting edge anything, and very, deeply weird. I am an eccentric’s eccentric.

So how the hell did I end up on Ello?

I’ve never been on Facebook (mostly out of curmudgeonly stubbornness), and though I love Twitter with all of my creepy heart, I fear that it is slowly morphing into something…less fun. Then Ello starting blowing up (like yesterday, I guess?), and I thought: Why not?

Almost no one I know is on there, so I’m just shouting nonsense into the void. It has a weird interface. There are almost no non-white tech dude people on there. It’s probably not my bag, and may well slide into obscurity, just another momentary internet fad. (I don’t believe their ad-free integrity will last long, for instance. Somebody is paying for any “free” service you use.)

But I wanted to be first at something, just this once.

So feel free to follow me (codenamesarah) there, if you are so inclined.

Web peeping.

There’s a crafter’s personal blog I really like because the photos are amazing. But they’re so intimate — cooking family dinners, pets, her daughter & partner — that they sometimes make me feel like a spy.

I mean, I know she puts this stuff out there on purpose, but sometimes I click away from her blog feeling like a straight up web-peeper.

It’s a weird feeling.

My brain is boiling, I think.

The weather guy said we’re headed for triple digit temperatures this weekend, and it’s not even July yet. Whew. I think it’s safe to say that it’s hot. I know it’s a fictional concept, but I always feel like I’m getting Sebacean Heat Delirium this time of year – and this year is no exception.

I don’t want to do anything when it gets really hot. I don’t want to leave the house (obviously), but I don’t even get much done in the house, despite the air conditioning. I can barely think clearly most of the time.

I can barely string together this post, frankly.

I think I was never meant to live in this climate.

I totally forgot the point I was trying to make here, but I’m going to post this anyway, as a testament to my boiled brain.

An open letter to (the other) Sarah.

Dear (Other) Sarah Crowder,

I’d really like you to get a new e-mail address. I’m not 100% sure what your e-mail address actually is, but it must be pretty damned close to mine because I continually get your e-mail.

No, I don’t know your LinkedIn business associates. I’m really glad that your friend’s massage business is going well, and that the opening party was a success, but as much as I need a massage, I don’t know your friend, and I don’t live in the Pacific Northwest. I also really appreciated the invitation to your family reunion BBQ, but again, I don’t know your family. I’m sure they’re lovely people, though.

Maybe you get e-mail intended for me sometimes, too. I have no way of knowing. Feel free to tell my friends “Hi” for me. Go ahead and reply. They’re mostly a mellow bunch, and who knows – they might even like you more than me. I am pretty cranky, after all.

Look, I know we have a very common name, and I’m almost sorry I got to Gmail first (and truly sorry that I did not include my middle initial in my handle), but here we are. If you don’t want to get a new e-mail handle*, at least make sure that the people trying to contact you have your correct address. I seriously get a lot of your e-mail. (Was it misprinted on your business cards?)

Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. But if you’re feeling a little stressed out, I bet your friend would give you a discount on a massage. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

Sincerely,
Sarah L. Crowder

*Both “SCisAwesomeForevs@hotmail” or “scrazyscrowder@juno” sound fun, right?