To all of you wonderful people out there in cyberspace — paraphrasing Norma Desmond — I’m still here. And I don’t mean to make that sound like a threat!
The wOw site might be tightening up, but I’m just getting started. I know that sounds awfully confident — but those who know me know that’s just a pose. I’m actually floundering right now. After almost 30 years I’ve been laid off my job. Mr. wOw contemplates the unemployment line or a Chilean mine. There’s little money in the bank. He has not been wise, ever.
But this experience, with wOw and all of you, has given me more a sense of myself than I’ve ever had. And despite my insecurities and lack of motivation, I don’t intend to lose you. When I learned wOw was changing, I wondered where that would leave me? (It happened, coincidentlally, just as my long-term job was kinda vanishing. I’ll explain the “kinda” at another time.)
Everybody said — “Start your own blog!” But doing things entirely on my own, for myself is a foreign concept. I’ve always been the guy behind the curtain. (Either the Wizard of Oz or Polonious, neither of whom is especially admirable.) So, as the old story goes about Tallulah Bankhead — I dropped an egg and stood aside. Helpless. Luckily, I have B. He read up about everything blog-wise. He looked at themes. He wanted to find the most powerful Internet connection on which to have a blog. He kept at me. I said, “This will never happen. I need structure. I need a reason. Don’t make me explain and say bad things about myself.”
He said: “You have structure. You have a reason. Don’t you want to keep up with the people who know you on wOw? Hasn’t this meant something to you?”
I said, “It has. But I have no talent. I am nothing.”
And he said: “Here, do you like the layout of this blog?” He knows me well. And it’s best to ignore me at my worst. In B.’s case, that means ignoring most of what I say — 24/7.
Starting in the beginning of April, you can find Mr. wOw at MrwOwblog.com. I will be unchanged. Fast and loose with my thoughts, grammar and punctuation. (Somebody once asked me, “How would you describe your writing style?” I said: “Dashes, italics, exclamation points, and mistakes.”)
I will remain anonymous. Although I might finally publish a photo. You won’t know me. Maybe something with the Christmas tree or a cat. My ridiculous tuxedo avatar will remain.
I am at sea. I don’t have a paddle. I can’t find land. I am trusting you all to help me survive. Think about B., even if you don’t care much for me. He’s tired! And so smart. I always think he’s mistaken me for another Mr. wOw — the competent one, in a parallel universe.
Love you all, talk to you soon —
P.S. Thanks to Joni Evans and her band of stalwart editors (Hilary Black, Emily Gallagher, and Sylvia Marino) who allowed me my place as the male voice on a women’s site. I’ve been honored.