Archive for January, 2011

January 22, 2011

Search engine terms

by Gina

When I blogged at Knitter on Skates, I had a vested interest in the search engine terms that generated hits. It was my way of knowing what people were interested in. Now that I have a new blog and a new outlook, I still check the search engine terms that lead people to what I write. It’s different now, though. I’m not going to put too much focus on the terms that generate traffic, but I’ll enjoy reading them.

There were two within the past week that stroked my humor glands. They were:

  • weird way thinking
  • I try to be good, but I get bored

That last one makes sense. It is the exact title of one of my blog posts. That alone took some of the humor out of it, but I’m still glad that I can be found by that term/phrase. It boosts my non-conformist ego.

“weird way thinking” surprised me. It’s very appropriate, though. I do have a weird way of thinking, and I’m slowly trying to incorporate that into my blog. I don’t think I’ve been successful at it yet, but now I have confirmation that I’m on the right path. Out of curiosity, I attempted to find my blog via Google using that exact keyword combination. It wasn’t on the first two results pages. I gave up the search. But someone did find me that way, and that’s a step in the right direction.

(While we’re on the subject of blog traffic: What’s a girl gotta do to get a comment around here? 92 visitors for 13 published posts, and not a single comment! What gives? Feel free to say hello next time you stop by. I love comments)

January 18, 2011


by Gina

Since nobody reads this blog, except the occasional friend or relative when I force a link on them and say, “read this, damn it,” I’ve decided I’m going to have a little bit of fun here. In the near future, I’m going to start a semi-regular series on how to survive a zombie apocalypse. It might not get people reading, but at least I’ll be entertained. The first post will be up some time over the weekend or maybe next week. The topic will be necessary weaponry.

Why zombies? Good question. I mentioned a zombie apocalypse on my “About” page, so I thought maybe I’d somehow tie that into the content of my blog. Also, it simply seemed like a fun thing to do. (And wasn’t that the greatest story ever?!? Maybe I’ll tell it again some day).

Edited to add: It is pure coincidence that immediately following my post on the death of a friend, there’s a post about zombies. I’m 93% convinced my subconscious mind had nothing to do with that.

One more quick edit: Ex-Husband kindly reminded me (in an eye-rolling sort of way) that blogging about zombies has been over-done, and the “trend” has long passed. I realize this. But I still like zombies and zombie blog posts, so I’m going to zombie-blog whether the online world and Ex-husband like it or not. If it makes any of you feel better, I have no intention of letting the zombies dominate my blog. They will be here be in addition to, rather than in place of, regular Gina-blogging.

January 17, 2011

From displaced feelings to goodbye

by Gina

Stages of grief…

What are these “stages” of which you speak? “Roller coaster of grief” is a more realistic phrase. “Whirlwind of grief” is how I’ve come to think of it. To me, the word “stages” implies a hard and fast chronological sequence. It’s long been known in the worlds of psychology and psychiatry (and by many grieving individuals) that the stages are often not experienced in any set order, along any set time frame, and often not experienced singularly. You can have your stages, Ms. Kübler-Ross. I’m riding the whirlwind.


It’s become a familiar feeling during the course of my short life.

A friend of mine passed away a week ago. Eight days, to be exact. His death was both sudden and untimely, which I think, for most of his friends and family, added fuel to the already strong emotions that come with the passing of a loved one. It’s been a sad, weird week. To elaborate any further would be to dwell unnecessarily. Dwelling is not conducive to moving forward, so I will end with this:

Farewell, dear friend. You will be missed.

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