I added a hit counter to this site in April. In the past three months, I have had 6000 visitors. I would say it is time to celebrate, but I am not certain what I would be celebrating. 6000 is just a very odd number.
The counter gives me only a vague idea where the reader's server is located, and that is often misleading. For instance, a friend just outside of Salem shows up as viewing in northern California -- because that is where her server is located.
Even so, it is interesting to see the all of the countries where people view this blog. Not surprisingly, the largest group is American. But Mexico and Canada are close behind. And then there is the international crowd. I have seen hits from Germany (especially my good friend, Hollito), France, Spain, Portugal, Great Britain, Sweden, Argentina, Brazil, Finland, Greece, Turkey, Israel, India, Malaysia, Japan, Australia, and New Zealand.
I say "hits" because not all of the 6000 hits on this page are readers. When Babs of Babsblog discovered the number of hits she was getting each day on her blog, she wrote: "I thought I was a voice talking to the wilderness, but heck there are 'beings' in that wilderness reading and not commenting - like over 140 in one day! OY VEY."
Michael Dickson and I have discussed these statistics. If you take a close look, you can see that many of the"hits" are people who have managed to dredge up the site in a Google search or who linked over to see why this site was on another site's blog roll. Most of those browsers take a quick look and depart the store -- the same way I react when I accidentally end up in ladies' lingerie at the local department store.
I did a quick informal survey to discover the type of Google searches that lead people to my blog. Surprisingly, it was neither "Mexico" nor "retirement." It was "Billy Collins." As strange as the result is, I find it rather comforting that my favorite poet would create that number of informal links with strangers on the internet. Maybe that is why we write blogs. We are trying to convey the poetry of life -- our lives.
I only know that I am happy to be in this moment connecting with others through this almost magic medium -- especially those who stay to read a few words, and have a cup of coffee while we chat about things that are blue or why Mexican paper towels are so thin.
The counter gives me only a vague idea where the reader's server is located, and that is often misleading. For instance, a friend just outside of Salem shows up as viewing in northern California -- because that is where her server is located.
Even so, it is interesting to see the all of the countries where people view this blog. Not surprisingly, the largest group is American. But Mexico and Canada are close behind. And then there is the international crowd. I have seen hits from Germany (especially my good friend, Hollito), France, Spain, Portugal, Great Britain, Sweden, Argentina, Brazil, Finland, Greece, Turkey, Israel, India, Malaysia, Japan, Australia, and New Zealand.
I say "hits" because not all of the 6000 hits on this page are readers. When Babs of Babsblog discovered the number of hits she was getting each day on her blog, she wrote: "I thought I was a voice talking to the wilderness, but heck there are 'beings' in that wilderness reading and not commenting - like over 140 in one day! OY VEY."
Michael Dickson and I have discussed these statistics. If you take a close look, you can see that many of the"hits" are people who have managed to dredge up the site in a Google search or who linked over to see why this site was on another site's blog roll. Most of those browsers take a quick look and depart the store -- the same way I react when I accidentally end up in ladies' lingerie at the local department store.
I did a quick informal survey to discover the type of Google searches that lead people to my blog. Surprisingly, it was neither "Mexico" nor "retirement." It was "Billy Collins." As strange as the result is, I find it rather comforting that my favorite poet would create that number of informal links with strangers on the internet. Maybe that is why we write blogs. We are trying to convey the poetry of life -- our lives.
I only know that I am happy to be in this moment connecting with others through this almost magic medium -- especially those who stay to read a few words, and have a cup of coffee while we chat about things that are blue or why Mexican paper towels are so thin.
