I have 50,000 friends!
I think that is how the FaceBook crowd counts.
More accurately, I have had over 50,000 individual hits on this blog since I started tracking in April of last year. The odometer tripped over sometime during the afternoon last Thursday.
Those of us who keep a hit counter have posted on this topic numerous times.
The more hopeful amongst us see it as an opportunity to reach out and touch new friends -- and wonder why our new friends do not leave Cole Porterish witty comments for all of us to share. In the same exercise we once conducted sitting by the telephone waiting for that girl who smiled at us in second period English to call. Only to discover she suffers from a nervous tic and not infatuation.
And then there are the cynical bloggers who know that 93.7% of those "hits" are the result of Google searches ferreting out that post you named "naked youth" in the hopes of improving your statistics. And unless you have an interest in talking to male British tourists posting from Thailand, you are probably happy that the comment box is as pure as their hands are not.
I tend to fall into the practical category. (Of course, I do. This is my blog, and I can compliment myself whenever I choose.)
I am happy to see that more people are spending more time reading what I have written. And the comments have increased.
I love the comments. But I am also happy to merely share my words with whoever stumbles into this verbal emporium. Chat, if you like. If not, feel free to take one of those posts off of the hanger, and try it on for size.
And, even if I do not have 50,000 friends, I enjoy this small group sharing ideas and building the future.
And that is good enough for me.
I think that is how the FaceBook crowd counts.
More accurately, I have had over 50,000 individual hits on this blog since I started tracking in April of last year. The odometer tripped over sometime during the afternoon last Thursday.
Those of us who keep a hit counter have posted on this topic numerous times.
The more hopeful amongst us see it as an opportunity to reach out and touch new friends -- and wonder why our new friends do not leave Cole Porterish witty comments for all of us to share. In the same exercise we once conducted sitting by the telephone waiting for that girl who smiled at us in second period English to call. Only to discover she suffers from a nervous tic and not infatuation.
And then there are the cynical bloggers who know that 93.7% of those "hits" are the result of Google searches ferreting out that post you named "naked youth" in the hopes of improving your statistics. And unless you have an interest in talking to male British tourists posting from Thailand, you are probably happy that the comment box is as pure as their hands are not.
I tend to fall into the practical category. (Of course, I do. This is my blog, and I can compliment myself whenever I choose.)
I am happy to see that more people are spending more time reading what I have written. And the comments have increased.
I love the comments. But I am also happy to merely share my words with whoever stumbles into this verbal emporium. Chat, if you like. If not, feel free to take one of those posts off of the hanger, and try it on for size.
And, even if I do not have 50,000 friends, I enjoy this small group sharing ideas and building the future.
And that is good enough for me.
