The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:
The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Minty-Fresh™.
A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,900 times in 2010. That’s about 5 full 747s.
In 2010, there were 21 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 201 posts.
The busiest day of the year was November 18th with 20 views. The most popular post that day was Cubicle Quarrels.
Where did they come from?
The top referring sites in 2010 were twilightcola.blogspot.com, facebook.com, twitter.com, batupermataimpian.blogspot.com, and capricorn1966.wordpress.com.
Some visitors came searching, mostly for bam margera, bam, pack rat, cubicles, and pack rats.
Attractions in 2010
These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.
Cubicle Quarrels April 2008
lmao Are You A Bam Margera Fan? Congratulations! … January 2007
30 Days of Music Day 1 – Your Favorite Song May 2010
About June 2007
Neil Young, CSN, James Taylor and Joni Mitchell July 2008
What I should be doing:
4) Grocery shopping
6) Creating Lesson Plans
8) Researching Server 2008
10) Cleaning my car
What I’m actually doing:
1) _______________ Fill in the blank
A couple of months ago something happened that caused some hurt and sadness. I was seeing an event for what it was – under par, less than wonderful, possibly adequate. I felt that my involvement in the project justified my opinion. Nevertheless, I was shocked when someone close to me expressed their opinion more bluntly than I was able to accept. It was clearly an example of “It’s ok for me to recognize this failure but don’t you dare say anything about my baby.”
This week I found myself involved in a situation that is even more laughable than the previous situation. With an entirely different set of people and circumstances, I feel like I’m in a remake of The Emperor’s New Clothes. Each time I replay the scene, I have to pinch myself and wonder if I was the only person in the room who saw what I saw.
I shake my head and puzzle over the pain I’ve caused myself. Clearly, I am running into this brick wall because my “Spidey” senses are tingling to their own drummer. I did speak up. I did express my opinion. Perhaps, in an effort to be diplomatic, I neglected to paint the entire picture. My diplomacy has not stopped me from looking at the situation, imagining the potential ridicule and waiting for all of the collective jaws to drop.
There are times in my life when those same “Spidey” senses tell me to run and not look back, but like a person who has just witnessed a horrible accident, I can’t turn away.
I am going to keep my eyes open and see what the future brings. I’m a person who can admit when I’m wrong and I’m hoping the outcome of this situation will give me the opportunity to do so. In the meantime, I’m staying away from blunt objects and rubbing my eyes more often.
I used to work for a company that had surveillance cameras. We all knew they were there and we even understood why they were there. We handled highly sensitive data and printed it for highly sensitive bank mailings.
Most days, those cameras just chugged along, collecting video of unsuspecting employees picking their noses or tripping over skids or hurrying under security garage doors as they slid into the down position, sometimes with drastic, bleeding results.
One night during World Cup soccer, the third shift, third world employees had an impromptu match which resulted in low productivity and raised a flag so big and so red that the day shift supervisors demanded a viewing of the previous night’s tapes. Yep, there they were in black and white, having the time of their lives. Sometimes, I wish those tapes had audio as well!
Did those cameras ever catch anyone doing anything illegal? Hell yes! Let’s see, there was the Peeping Tom who would crouch outside of a Men/Women’s room and peek through the keyhole whenever a woman went in to relieve herself. There was a group of folks who would walk the hundred or so yards across a field to the liquor store, come back and enjoy a six-pack at the picnic tables in the smoke break area before returning to work. There was incredible footage of a woman in a van who backed into a parked car. I never found out if she did it on purpose or if she just forgot she was in reverse and stepped on the gas to get home as quickly as possible.
The cameras caught unsuspecting lovers, deviant urinators and belligerent brawlers. On film, we found lunch burglars, cell phone thieves and downright criminals who stole money from their “best friends. I was gonna pay her back on pay day. I didn’t think she’d miss that $40.”
I loved the cameras because I knew where they were. I’d often smile up at them when passing by. I used to think that my employers would be relieved to know that I made it to work safely at 2:00 am after I’d been on the phone for an hour trying to solve a technology issue that ended up being something I had to drive 35 miles to fix. I think they forgot to review the tapes the week I worked 48 hours straight and was less than pleasant to a co-worker. Maybe they saw my head bobbing as I sat in an chair in the server room and felt that qualified as a good night’s sleep.
More often than not, I felt like I was on a covert mission when I arrived at 4 am to straighten out some technology mess. I used to imagine that I was dressed in black from head to toe as I surreptitiously walked through the halls of my mind, peering around corners and plastering myself to the walls as I inched my way to my office with Belushi-like stealth where I would finally breathe a sigh of relief having avoided those God-forsaken cameras.
I dunno. It worked today. I’m totally grateful. I don’t know why or how. Two weekends and it’s fine and dandy. Ok. Cool. Merry Christmas.