Did you know the Romans invented blogs? Or that blog is short for weblog, which is short for "we blog because we weren't very popular in high school and we're trying to gain respect and admiration without actually having to be around people."
The ultimate blog post. Comic relief from Wired, via Gawker.
A strong, defined personality with a sense of humor about themselves. An ability to filter news quickly and to recognize, you know, what is interesting to other people as well as interesting to themselves, and finding the balance between those things.
But that, she concedes, was so six months ago. Now?
Technical difficulties with Typepad, my blogging software, are to blame for why it was impossible to update yesterday between about 1 p.m. and 10:30 p.m., and any comments you may have made during the day seem to have vanished. It's nothing personal, Puck.
"Clouds of choking smoke filled the tube carriage ... I thought I was about to die, or was dead. There was silence for 10 secs. Then a terrible screaming."
One year after the London tube and bus bombings, Londoners continue to deal with the emotional wreckage through a network of blogs. An AP article features Rachel North, an advertising strategist, through whose site we learn how, as she sat just six feet from suicide bomber Jermaine Lindsay, she was reading a magazine article about her own 2002 rape. She suffered only minor physical injuries, but knew from her first attack how understanding the experiences of others helped.
Dozens of survivors meet Friday, the one-year anniversary. North's hoping to move on, telling AP, "I can't be the blogging bomb girl forever."
Is any team thinner at catcher than the Phillies? The BeerLeaguer wants to know. The City Paper doesn't care. Not when there's light-hitting, heavily follicled Sal Fasano to profile. The alt-paper mines the cult of the throwback backstop. It begins:
The name is perfect. Salvatore Fasano. Sal Fasano. Big Sal. Close your eyes and try to picture the image behind the words. A lug, right? Gritty, dirty, hard. Say it to yourself. Sal Fasano. Sal friggin' Fasano. It's a welder's name. A bowler's name. As regal as a plunger. Sal Fasano is the guy who cleans your gutters, who installs your sink, who tells you how many screws he'll need to repair that thingamajig making noise in your basement.
At the same time Beerleaguer is sullying Sal, Fasano is becoming a wrap-up writer's punch line. The Canadian Press wrote over the weekend:
It made me think of a couple things, the first being that reporting a piece takes a hell of a lot longer to do than writing a post.
Indiana parents spend weeks at their daughter's bedside, awaiting her emergence from a coma. When she comes to, the girl says she isn't their daughter - she's actually another blonde who was in the car wreck. Which means their own daughter has already been buried.
For the past week, the family of Laura VanRyn, 22, had been using a blog to keep friends and loved ones up to date on the young woman's progress since the April 26 crash involving several students at Taylor University. The young woman was in a rehab center in Grand Rapid, Mich, when she started coming to.
Monday, the mother, Lisa VanRyn wrote, "While certain things seem to be coming back to her, she still has times where she'll say things that don't make much sense." When she was able to write her name, she wrote:
Introducing Tripwire's weekly MP3 blog charts.
The site handpicked 30 music bloggers and follows the indie songs and CDs they're praising.