Writing a blog is a funny thing. I use it as a journal for my thoughts, a record of what happens in my life (because Lord knows I am NOT a scrapbooker), and a forum for important decisions like how to get rid of my pirate hair.
Half the time, I forget that anybody but me reads my blog.
The truth is that a lot of people read it. And that is AMAZING. I love that people are interested in blog posts about dudes watching Twilight and werewolf toddlers. It’s awesome. It makes me feel like people appreciate the dusty contents of the back of my mind, where all the crazy lurks.
Something has started happening, though, and it makes me a bit uneasy. Anytime I’m at a social gathering–church, a party, my ten year high school reunion back in October, plus many others–someone inevitably sidles up to me and says, “I promise I’m not a stalker, but I just love reading your blog. That was pretty funny, um, about the…backsplash…”
And then they get all sheepish, like they’ve done something wrong. Like I’m going to say “NO! AWAY FROM ME, SPAWN OF SATAN! HOW DARE YOU READ MY PRIVATE THOUGHTS THAT I POST ON THE INTERNET!”
Now, I do get why they feel weird, especially if it’s someone I don’t usually spend time with. The blog gives them a window into my world, and they feel like they know me.
They know my husband’s name and what he looks like. They have a pretty good idea of what Baby Girl looks like. They know how I think, what I did last weekend, and what I struggle with.
So they come up to me because they feel like we’re really good friends, and then halfway through telling me about how they read my blog, they realize the friendship is one-sided. I don’t know much, if anything, about them. And that lopsidedness makes them feel like a peeping Tom.
I get it.
But. BUT BUT BUT. Here’s the thing, Grasshoppers. If no one reads this blog, then there is no point in me blogging.
And also, if you enjoy my blog, then you and I probably have something in common (love for crazy nail polish? an irrational fear of clowns?). And if we have something in common, then we would probably be friends in real life.
Maybe we were friends once, but time and space have prevented us from keeping up. Maybe we went to high school together but ran in different circles and never spoke. Maybe you’re friends with my mom or my dad or my sister, but you’ve never met me in person.
It doesn’t matter. You are awesome. You are NOT a stalker simply because you read my blog. You are a blog reader. That’s it. And it shouldn’t be embarrassing.
If you see me out somewhere, by all means, say hello and tell me you read my blog. I’ll totally fist-bump you, and it will be awesome.