Soy Made Me Sigh

For the first time in a long time, because of a link, I ended up on an old blog: Soy Made Me Gay. I loved this blog. Correction: I love this blog. In fact, I half envied the way he burst onto the scene, wowed us all with his wit and verbal panache, and exited gracefully before becoming old, tired, irrelevant, crusty...

*sigh*

But seriously, if you haven't read it. Do it. Share it with your bishop and friends.

Then I read through a few of his posts. Dang, he's good. And I realized: he probably, in those few short months, deftly articulated the most important and amusing things I've written about, but he did so much more succinctly, with much more humor, in a much more personable and engaging way, while I've gone about spouting off endlessly and repetitively ad nauseam about the same stuff...and I'm jolted by the comparison game back into wanting to just shut down and direct readers to his blog.

*sigh*

But now I've morphed, as I've just said, into the cautionary tale. Too late to go out in a blaze of glory, leaving everyone to assume I'm faithfully serving in my ward and shining as a brilliant, multi-chromatic beam of joyful celibacy. Nope. I'm still here. Hey, folks. Yeah. Still blabbing on about this homo-mormony stuff, now with the added tinge of agnosticism, which probably changes my readership a bit and makes me mostly irrelevant to my original audience...

*sigh*

Gosh, I need to go to sleep. Yes, sleep. Oh, don't worry, the two of you fretting that I might shut my blog down. We all know it's not going to happen. I can't stop writing my thoughts and having people skim over them while thinking, "I'd read these if they weren't so LONG" but idealistically thinking somewhere, someone will be helped by my incessant rambling. Hey, it could happen. No e-mails from readers whose lives I've changed, like one blogger friend who apparently gets fan mail fairly regularly. I don't. But I don't care to. That's a big difference between him and me, I guess. It might be nice to believe I'm somehow making a difference, but I've never been convinced of it. Meh, I don't need my ego stroked or anything. I just quietly write and hope it's for some kind of good.

Seriously, I'm still typing. Why am I going on? Oh, right: sleepy. Filters are mostly off. Why are you still reading? Go to bed, for goodness' sake, or read the news, or...I just dozed during that sentence. 'Night!