Comments Are Still Down; Or, Why I Will Never Be a Writer

Y'all. It's a server issue, which means it's completely out of our hands, apart from some angry e-mails sent by my husband.

I'm so sorry. Believe me, I'm sorry. I realized yesterday how much of my happiness depends on comments. It's a little shameful. I even told Chad that without comments my life has no point. I guess I feel that without comments my writing has no point, and if my writing has no point, my life has no point. And, yes, I realize that this belief is deeply flawed and, really, quite ridiculous.

If you love me, send me an e-mail.

New Paris post tomorrow. I'm torn between continuing on sans comments and being extremely upset that my Paris posts don't get the attention and admiration (I feel) they deserve. Alas. Wasn't meant to be, I guess.

Or maybe my vacation is interesting only to me and the lack of comments is enabling me to live in my fantasy world in which my Paris posts are extremely interesting and everyone is desperate to tell me so, only they can't.

Lack of comments also makes me increasingly fatalistic, I'm finding. Save me from myself.