Fan Girls and TUMBLR should never meet.

In the past few days, I have discovered TUMBLR.

This is not to say that I was unaware of what TUMBLR was; on the contrary, I had an account. And I had even typed my name in.

But, recently, I found it bothersome to forget others account names and have to stalk all their other social networking profiles just to find their page link. "Wouldn't it be simpler," I'd mused to myself, "if I just followed them?"

So that's what I did. I added a picture and my birthdate. I wrote a quick about me and eagerly started following others.

The whole concept of TUMBLR seemed foreign. I’m not sure why. I have both a FACEBOOK and a TWITTER. I also, obviously, have a BLOGSPOT. But, for some reason, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the magic land that is TUMBLR. (If I’m being honest—and considering maybe two people read this, including myself, I will be—I still don’t understand. )


What I do understand is, however, is that this website gives people the ability to find you. Just by typing in a generic thing that you might’ve tagged.
All you have to do is tag things.


Immediately, I perked up. “Tagging? I can tag. I have a label maker. I understand labeling.” Eagerly I began to search the internet for things that could force many people to see my page. I needed followers. I demanded followers. (Yeah, it’s not really working.)


Unfortunately, I am a self-proclaimed fan girl. I’ve always been a fan girl. It started when I was quite young, still in elementary school, and I realized how incredibly bad ass Buffy Summers was. Since then, I’ve been consistently obsessed with at least one fandom (i.e., Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Charmed, Gilmore Girls, Doctor Who and Criminal Minds). I’ve also had smaller obsessions, which I don’t necessarily consider myself a fan girl on, but this is only because I’ve been such a die-hard that I know the true meaning of ‘creepily obsessive’. (My mini-fandoms include Crossing Jordan, Angel, Scrubs, and Heroes)


Because of my teenage fan girl tendencies, when I realized that the entire internet was at my disposal, I went ape-shit. “David Tennet! Matt Smith!” I’d cried, eagerly. “Matthew Gray Gubler!”


I began to type quickly, snapping pictures with my low-grain camera phone.


I have gone over the edge of TUMBLR crazy. The only reason I left that blog was to blog quickly here. This post is merely an apology.

Carolyn, if you read this—I’m so sorry.