I just did a phone interview with Wired about the 9/11 report. CNN wants to come to my house next week to do an interview about security moms. I've spoken to at least three reporters from various news agencies this week about the conventions. And I hear my blog was flashed for .5 seconds on CNN today (I think it was the Glenn Reynolds interview, not sure).
I think in the past year alone, I've done about 100 media interviews on various subjects. The fact that they email me looking for two second sound bites or a few words about a chosen subject is a source of great bemusement to me. I still have the same attitude whenever I get an interview request: Who, me? It's almost surreal at times and when I go ahead and read my two words out of a thousand spoken that get printed in the story it's almost as if I'm separating me from that me. It's just....weird. I don't think I'll ever get used to people actively seeking out my opinion on anything except video games and horror movies. And no one has called me on that yet.
It makes me wonder what impression someone might have of me if they've read an article where I'm quoted. Maybe they think, oh must be an Important Person Who Is An Expert In The Field. When in reality, I've got the phone in one hand and the Game Cube controller in the other and I'm in my pajamas.
I always wanted to be an expert at something. I could never decided just what, though, which is probably why I bounce all over the place as far as subjects go here. But last night I was watching VH1's Most Metal Moments and there was one guy, I forget his name, but the blurb that came up on the screen when they showed him on camera was Metal Expert. I wonder if anyone grows up thinking, I want to be a metal expert when I get older? And how does one get the credentials that would deem them an expert in that field, anyhow?
Either, way, it's sort of a cool thing to have attached to your name. Imagine: Michele Catalano, Metal Expert.
At this stage in the game, it's probably too late to become an expert on anything. I mean, my life is half over (that's assuming I die of natural causes at a ripe old age) and the second half usually consists of a down hill slide towards early bird meals and reruns of Murder, She Wrote. So I suppose I should just ride this wave of meager successes right now and some day I can tell my grandkids - when they get surly with me and call me a foolish old bag - my opinion was once sought after, you damn whippersnappers! Who knows? Maybe I'll still be blogging by then and people will call me to ask my opinion about adult diapers and diet supplement drinks. Or maybe they'll have opened a Home For Aged Bloggers by then.
I think I figured out why my success (blogger-ly speaking) has been somewhat limited, in comparison to other bloggers who have turned their gig into paying jobs. I never quite nailed down what it is I blog about. But I kind of like it this way. I'd rather regale you with tales of DJ's guitar prowess some days then write another post about Sandy Berger's pants.
Being an expert is probably overrated anyhow. How many times could one answer the same question about Marilyn Manson's boobs (fake or real?) without wanting to scream? I think I'll scratch "metal expert" off of my short list. Maybe I'll go for an expert credential in Antagonizing Red Sox Fans. I seem to be pretty good at that.
Or maybe I'll just go back to the couch and try to regain my Crash Team Racing championship title from Natalie.