My webmaster told me…

Let me stop right there. I am not comfortable using a word like “webmaster.” It sounds like something out of “Dungeons and Dragons,” like, “The Webmaster sent my Orc into battle with only a Cloak of Invisibility, a flyswatter, and a bota bag of ale.”

Starting again… my Website Designer (better) told me he had submitted my “key words” to the major search engines. Again, this jargon still sounds a bit like D&D, but a little less so. Despite his proclamations, when I Googled myself (which tickles if you do it just right), aside from the listings that had already been there for years (my former career as an exotic dancer, my arrest for jay-walking on an abandoned dirt road, etc.), I could not find myself.

This was cause for alarm. I could not find myself. It also sounded ominous, heavy, and symbolic. “He could not find himself.” I imaged walking past a headstone in a graveyard and seeing that as an epitaph: HE COULD NOT FIND HIMSELF. Chilling.

Today, I looked anew. Lo and behold, I was able to find myself. I HAD FOUND MYSELF! This, too, carried with it the sound of something far more important than it was; some journey of self-discovery and insight, its goal finally achieved.

Anyway, back to earth: My damn site now comes up when you search my damn name. I’m damn happy, damn happy.