Happy One-Year Birthday to My Blog

One year ago today this blog right here went live when the poor sorry bastard manning the help chat at WordPress finally said uncle and put it online. From that day until this very moment, we’ve shared laughter and tears, and goshdarnit we also learned a little along the way. But it would be just too damn bad to keep all this literary goodness to ourselves, wouldn’t it? Why not celebrate the one-year anniversary of my blog by forcing all your friends to read it? Or send the links to your mom, she likes to forward things. Or hell, print out copies of my posts and throw them out your car window as you drive. And anyway, are you sure you’ve read it all?

Happy One-Year Birthday to My Blog

I’ve made thirty-six blog posts in the last year, according to that dashboard thingy. That’s about one every ten f*cking days. When the hell did I do that? I am asking myself, and no answer forthcomes. All I really know, after considering it objectively from every angle, is that more people should be reading the hell out of my stuff. So here I am asking you if you’re sure you’ve read it all?

My mad computer skills (and the helpchat dude) helped me figure out that a lot of people definitely want funding, might want babies and are sick of feeling like impostors. People also wonder why anyone would want to piss off Nature. Those posts really got read. Not having been born yesterday, I’m halfway done with a post about a well-funded impostor baby who boycotts Nature. Keep an eye out for it.

I also wrote some really good stuff that nobody much read. So I’ve decided to squeak the wheel and hope for grease.

I wrote a love letter, a hate letter, a poem and a recipe for cheese.

I wrote about Marie Curie, Becky Sharp and Carl Sagan.

I gazed into the bottomless navel that is Twitter and wrote about what I saw.

I wrote about Cream-of-Wheat, Barbie, my high-school boyfriend and my fingernails.

I told you what to say and what to do when the sexism happens.

I wrote about how the sexism feels and why you don’t mind me talking about it.

I wrote about hopelessness, predestination and from the perspective of a dog.

I wrote down the stuff that the strict word-count at Nature and the New York Times didn’t let me really explain.

Closest to my heart is the collection of my three comic books, to which could I could add many more readily. Fantagraphics has not offered to publish my comic books on thick glossy paper, nor has my favorite graphic artist Peter Bagge given me any personal encouragement. However, THIS COULD CHANGE AT ANY MOMENT*.

What else can I say? Oh yes. Thank you for reading. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know if you realize it, but this is all for you. Every word is for you.

I also have a hilariously closed comment policy, a self-serving about me page and an even more self-serving why this blog page. Are you sure you’ve read it all?
*OMG this has changed. Peter Bagge is amazing, you should go read all his stuff.