Sunday, 20 January 2013

Old pair of shoes the same place they were left

I have to be honest; I thought about not writing, any more. 

This is one of those tricky situations, because if I start harping on about how nobody cares, it comes across as just, well, harping on at best and fishing for complements at worst. 

I like this blog. I like how it's hit a hundred and fifty entries over time.

I just don't know if anyone's actually reading the damn thing! 

The best of we had a couple of posts ago highlighted that certain titles seemed to bring in the readers - mostly Moby lyrics, really, which is kind of funny in a way - but it's probably time to just admit that this blog is not made for stardom, really. 

Then again, 2152 pageviews over three and a half years isn't, maybe, so bad. 

It's time for the second admission; I don't know if I actually have anything worth saying, or, at least, writing about. 

Shocking, I know. 

But I've been running this blog on the fumes of talking about the experience of being a mature student in the arts and humanities along with half-informed film criticism consisting of personal historical statements and half-formed analysis. 

This in itself isn't unusual - I like to think that there are many other blogs out there, some less informed or less well written or less prone to long, run-on sentences that tire you out just by having to read them - but it's not what I'm after. 

Herein, then, is - having written the one hundred and fiftieth post a while ago - the new-fangled, quality-controlling, Eton Crow pledge; 

From this post forward, I'll only be publishing anything if I actually believe it merits publishing. 

So there you go!

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