Too much information.

In my procrastinatory journeys around the blogosphere, I've been clicking through to the blogs of people who comment on the various blogs that I read or who've linked to me themselves. Even with the aid of bloglines, I can only keep up with so much blogginess and remain gainfully employed, but I am enjoying my random forays into other people's worlds.

Many of the blogs I've read recently include a "100 things about me" section, which I gather results from a meme that made its way around the internet before my time. Some of the "100 things" sections I've skimmed through are really well-written and funny. Some are enough to turn me off the writer before I venture further into his or her blog. Most, though, are a little too labored and provide a little too much information, even if they convince me to read some of the writer's posts.

What is most interesting (to me) about these 100 things is that in reading them, I feel like I'm on a first date. I tend to click into the "100 things" section full of anticipation, after a quick look at the blog in question has caused me to imagine that the writer has enough in common with me that we two could become great blog buddies. The first few entries in the list tend to reinforce that initial impression. But around item 30, my mental checklist kicks in, and I start identifying the dealbreakers. Republicans? Forget it. People whose obsessive habits run to knitting and scrapbooking? Not so much. Women whose list contains more than 30 things that are actually about their husbands? Think for yourself, girlfriend. People whose lives revolve around shopping malls and reality TV shows? See ya. People who claim they "love to travel," but don't have a valid passport, "love to cook," but list more than 5 foods they hate, or "love to read," but identify John Grisham as a favorite author? I just don't think it would work out with us.

Among my regular reads are authors whose daily lives differ dramatically from mine, whose politics might make me cringe, and whose passions spark little fire in my own heart. Without exception, though, they are superb writers, who pepper their commentary with sharp wit, keen observation, or deep insight as the occasion demands. They are like old friends, whose differences enrich our relationship and provide me with perspective, balance, and gut-checks. Few of them have bothered with a "100 things" list. As much as I'd love to learn more about these marvelous writers, I'm afraid that doing so might shatter my impression of them and cause me to write them off as I've done all too often with prospective suitors who fall victim to TMI syndrome on early dates.

So I'm not going to tell you 100 things about me, even if I could think of 100 things about myself that I'm willing to share with the world and that might be entertaining to the masses. And I'm deleting Friday's "ask me anything" post, because several of the requests I've received (mostly via e-mail) go where no reader really needs to go. I hope we can still be friends, though.