Blogging Status

I seem recently to have reached new heights down here at the bottom of the blogging hierarchy: this week I got my first comment spam (prom dresses, anyone?), my first irrelevant nasty comment from a blogger I've never heard of (why me, Kevin?), and what appears to be a veritable burst of relevant comments from readers I don't actually know (very exciting--if you want to excite me, just leave a comment). Plus there's the pleasure of learning that people I do know are reading me--last week I found out that an old friend I've been quite out of touch with is a regular reader, which was a nice surprise.

Really, though, I try hard not to think about readers. I even deleted my stats. Yes, it's true. I don't know how many page hits I have, I don't know the IP addresses of my readers, and I don't even know what Google searches bring me up (though when I did have stats, my main Google category seemed to be Nigella chocolate cakes).

This is hard for me, you know. I'm actually the most self-conscious, competitive person on the planet. Which is why I had to delete the stats. I checked them constantly; I obsessed about the significance of IP addresses from New Mexico (then I figured out it was you, K) and Princeton (I've caught you, A); I rejoiced when I had three more readers than the day before and fell into paroxysms of self-loathing when I had four fewer. It was not good. It was counter to the plan. The plan was to write. Not to be part of the blogging community. Not to rival Dooce. Not even to rival Dawn. Just to write. Which is what I do now. Happily, for the most part.

Though I do like my little non-stats signs of blogging status.