Occasionally I’ll get obsessive about my comments and start to worry that my blog has turned into little more than a public conversation with Karen. Or even worse, that I’m pontificating to an empty room or indifferent passers-by, like a crazy street prophet on the side of the road. The idea makes me extremely self-conscious, despite the fact that I still officially maintain that this blog is primarily for my own benefit.

Every once in a while, though, I discover a blog lurker (Hi, Katie!), or I get a comment from a semi-lurker like my mom and Abbey. I have decided that these people are my favorite readers. I have no idea when they do or don’t come around, but I can always comfort myself with their presence. On a really insecure day, I can imagine an army of readers, peeking at the blog from the shadows, laughing hysterically at my jokes or stroking their chins thoughtfully at a serious point. Even as I write this, I’m reminding myself of the poor protagonist of A Beautiful Mind, but, it’s reassuring anyway.

I have a fondness for lurkers not just because they shore up my own self-confidence, but because I am one myself as well. I comment faithfully on about two blogs. I read about ten, some of which are written by people I have never met. That’s the beauty of this whole thing.

This post is not an appeal for lurkers to show themselves by leaving comments. If anything, this would probably ruin my illusions. But, to those of you who are out there (you know who you are), I’m glad you’re reading.