Not many of my friends here in Amsterdam read my blog.
I know this, because they tell me so.
“I don’t read your blog,” they might say.
Or if they are being less direct, they say, “I haven’t ever read your blog…yet.” And I know to take that with a silent, “…and I probably never will.”
This is ok in my books, for two reasons.
Number One Reason is that I don’t necessarily blog for my friends, they are not my target audience. I blog for a faceless mass that I don’t know and maybe will never meet, and this makes blogging easier. In this way, I can be more free with what I want to say.
Imagine trying to spill out your deepest thoughts (or ok…sometimes just a pretty vapid thought) and having the knowledge that all of your friends and family will read it.
Go-Go-Gadget-Self-Censorship!
I mean, that’s pretty much what facebook is for, right?
And if I ever do have a blog post that I want to share with friends and family specifically, I will post it on facebook and let people choose to read or not, no biggie if they don’t.
And if they ever do click on the link and then tell me, “Hey, I read your blog post on such-and-such-a-nonsense,” well then I am flattered. Because I know they are in the minority, and I’m happy they took the time out to read and I’m hoping they brushed away some of the cobwebs around here on their way out.
Number Two Reason that it’s ok that my friends don’t read my blog is because, just as online, in real life I am a blabber.
This is new to me. I would class myself as a Born Again Shy Person. For years and years I was shy, and for more years and years I told people, “I’m a shy person,” until one day someone replied with, “No, you’re not.”
“I am,” I insisted, “I’m shy.” But then another person said it, and then another person.
“No, I wouldn’t call you shy at all. You’re very much not shy,” they said.
And that’s when I realized that I wasn’t shy anymore. It just took someone else to point it out for me. Now I am trying out this new “I’m-not-a-shy-person” thing, trying to get rid of the label of myself that I carried for so long.
So, like a baby learning how to walk, I’m stretching those talky-talky muscles at every opportunity.
“Blah blah blah,” I say to my friends. “Blah blah blah blabber blabber,” not stopping to take a breath or ask, “And how was your day?”
(Those friends that told me that I wasn’t shy have created a monster.)
And so the less my friends read my blog, well the more I will have to tell them in person. Lucky them!
I am also of the opinion that the most loathsome question one can ask is, “Did you see what I wrote on my blog?” It’s right up there with the even more irksome, “Did you see what I posted on my facebook?” And so I try not to ever ask either, and automatically assume the answer would be a negative on both counts.
So who, you might ask, actually reads this blog?
Well. I happen to know from behind-the-scenes that the number one commenter on my blog goes by the name of “YoMama”, so put your sleuth hat on and figure that one out. I always know when “YoMama” is checking up on me, because after weeks and weeks of silence, in one hour I will get a comment on every post that I have written in the past month.
“Oop,” I’ll say, as I watch the messages roll in (One comment- ping! Two comments- ping! Three, Four comments- ping-ping!) “Mom’s checking up on me.”
I’ve asked her in the past to comment less on my blog. It sounds rude, but it has to do with that censorship thing again. “Look, read it as much as you like,” I whined to her on Skype chat, “But the less I know that you are reading, the better I will write.”
She relented. “Okay,” she sighed, “You big meanie.” Then she gave me shifty eyes.
Sure enough, a month later: Ping! Ping! Ping-Ping!
It is all to no avail. You can just as easily ask the sun to call it a day early as you can ask a mother to change her motherly ways.
And the funny part…and for god’s sake don’t tell her this…but the funny part is that it’s nice to know, when those comments do come rolling in, that someone’s actually out there paying attention.
