This morning, while waiting to have breakfast with a friend of mine, I grabbed a copy of the Willamette Week, a local periodical here in Portland, Oregon. I grabbed it due to the cover story, Blah, Blah, Blogs about Portand blogs that don’t suck.

Of course, yours truly was not listed. I suppose the reasons are varied, but the biggest is probably that I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned where I live. Nor do I write about timely events or politics. I generally write ideas, and while those ideas are based on my personal experiences, I wouldn’t say that my web site places it in any particular locale.

But I read it to see if Karrie Higgins was listed, and sure enough, she was. (Congratulations! Stop by for the bubbly.) Granted she was dead last in the list, but I’m sure it feels great to just be nominated.

Actually, I wonder if it does? I mean, I seriously doubt that my website would ever get popular, and I wonder if I want it popular? As a child, we are all enthralled with fame, and some crave it enough to move to Hollywood to become a dishwasher. But most of us realize that fame is too much trouble for the nice ego fluffing it gives.

I mean, you couldn’t even buy underwear for fear of what the Esquirer would put on its cover, “Friends Reject, Howard Abrams, buys Underwear after loosing his in an all-night beer bash!”

If you ever make a socially-motivated stand on something like recycling, you could never relax for fear of somebody catching you tossing a water bottle. I mean, fame isn’t something you can turn off. The devil just never stops the dance once you’ve accepted.

Eh, that’s just celebrity fame. Web site fame? What’s that?

There are a number of quasi-famous web site authors, but I wouldn’t want to be them. I mean, what if you actually wrote something that wasn’t up to par? Not that I’ve ever done anything that wasn’t fabulous and didn’t ramble on and on without stopping, breathing or even making a point, but it could happen.

Couldn’t it?

Now if I crush my readership, yes both of you, and your shatter your projection of who you think I am, I would be most sad. But what if there were tens or even <gasp> hundreds of you. I’d be suicidal… well, sadder anyway.

So, I will keep my readership and their expectations low. Now that is the key to stress-free happiness.