365 Days Put to Excellent Use. OK, Pretty Good Use. Oh, All Right, It's Kept Me Off the Streets.

So, as of tomorrow, it will be a year since I first wasted your precious time. (Wasted it with the blog, anyway; if you’ve known me for years, I’ve wasted it in various bars, on various road trips, in various romantic relationships, etc.)

One person who will go unnamed (OK, it’s my sister) said that I shouldn’t mark the anniversary by posting about it, because that would be “self-referential and lame.” I stood there for a good hour, in vain, waiting for her to explain how it’s any more self-referential or lame than just having the blog.

Besides, it’s not like I’m proposing a toast or anything. Mostly, I’ve spent the past year trying to ensure that this enterprise didn’t turn my life into the sort of sad venture represented by this cartoon.

I’m somewhat amazed I’ve kept updating it with such regularity, being a bit on the lazy side, but I guess I underestimated both my megalomania and the grip of my obsessive-compulsive disorder. (Both come in very handy for this. In fact, I’d say they’re essential.)

One of the reasons I started blogging was to increase my writing discipline, hoping to then apply that discipline to more traditional projects. And my discipline for such projects has developed, however glacially. But I haven’t given in to the temptation to believe that maintaining the blog somehow means I’m capable of writing a worthwhile short story, or a novel that wouldn’t send readers into septic shock. I maintain, along with the site, a healthy disdain for my abilities. (That said, I have printed out the contents of the blog, and they form a fairly towering stack of paper. They would make a good book, if good books were composed of intense, digression-peppered navel-gazing, and hastily -- sometimes drunkenly -- composed thoughts about REM songs.)

I thought about marking the year with something specific, but figured I’d just go with the equivalent of a TV “clip show.”

The last few days -- to the great detriment of my already jittery eyeballs -- I combed through what I’ve tossed at you around here.

I probably enjoyed writing these three posts the most, so I hope you liked 'em.

I learned that I either look a lot different than I think or I may have a case against mirror manufacturers in the same spirit in which smokers sue tobacco companies.

I gave it to New Jersey's plans for self-promotion but good.

I practiced my dream job of film critic. Speaking of film (kind of), the most fun I had might have been live-blogging the Oscars, though not everyone agreed with the excellence of that idea.

Once upon a time, for some reason I can’t remember, I recommended that you make certain CD mixes for yourself. Then I contented myself, for only slightly clearer reasons, with randomly writing about five songs at a time.

I survived a New York City subway strike, and lived to write one of my favorite posts about it.

I used the age-old trick of making myself look funny by just posting funny headlines written by AP staffers, and also dissected the occasional wire story at greater length (something I hope to do more of again soon).

I talked to my future self and, as I’m known to do from time to time, I made fun of Lee Siegel.

This is to say nothing of my frequent posts about New York, Texas, science, God, politics, and the state of my health, examples of which can be found under the "self-love" tab to the right. (When someone recently asked what would differentiate this "clip show" post from the "self-love" section, aside from some different links, I stammered and stared, answerless. But an unimpeachable response just came to me: You can never have too much self-love.)

My only disappointment is that the comments section has become quieter lately. I chalk that up to the rather sudden non-involvement of “dezmond” -- the handle used by my friend Ray, who has a semi-respectable job, but no kids (yet), and certainly no humility, and so no excuses for vanishing. His antagonistic presence once guaranteed a certain level of action around here, if only in the form of battles between him and my sister, LFW. Where have you gone, dezmond? A blog’s readers turn their lonely eyes to you.

I’d like to thank the number of you who have hung around this whole time. And to anyone I’ve picked up along the way, I hope you still click over when you're bored at work. I’m still having fun with it, so I don’t imagine I’ll stop anytime soon. A promise or a threat -- you decide.