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; I’m happy to preserve the mystery. But, to those of you who are out there (you know who you are), I’m glad you’re reading.