Battered Blogger Syndrome

Google loves me.  I know it does.  I can see it in its eyes as it completely ignores me.  It’s easier to see love’s reflection in eyes that look through my bloggity soul and to the wall behind my back. 

We had so many good years.  Google would roll over in bed and whisper in my ear, “You’re number one in my book, baby.”  I’d shudder with validation and ignore the possibility that Google would someday forget I exist.

How do I know Google loves me, despite de-indexing me and then returning me to small pedestal on page six?  Well, things like Google Chrome for one.  It’s a bouquet of flowers on a night I thought Google would stay out with another blogger until dawn.  It’s 99% of what I want in a browser and faster than any I’ve ever used.  In just two hours of trial, I’ve made it my default browser, despite Astin’s warning about the EULA and the the myriad of tin foil hat theories about Google taking over everything.

How can I, a belittled and forgotten blogger snort the Google Kool Aid powder with one nostril and blow tear-sniffles out the other?  I can only attribute it to Battered Blogger Syndrome.  There is no reason I should stand up tonight and talk about how much I already love Chrome.  I should be at Google’s front door, crying, pleading, and promising my second born for renewed recognition.  Instead, I’m tweaking my Chrome to the next 2.5 weeks of 16-hour days online as easy as possible. 

Is there a support group out there for folks like me?