Nobody Reads Blogs

 

I awoke this morning with a comforting thought: Nobody reads blogs. I'm not sure why I was comforted by that, but it's probably because I've been venting a lot here lately. See, because I know that no one reads my blog, it's what the kids call my "safe space". I can spill my guts, pour out my feelings (generally of despair) and not feel embarrassed. Blogging is my way of sorting things out. 

I started my (other) blog in 2007. That's sixteen years ago. Then, blogging was fashionable. I had a couple of acquaintances ask my advice on starting their own blogs. I think each of them did, but they made one post and gave up. I never gave up. My blog began as a means for promoting our band. We were about to release our first album and I didn't know what else to do to get the word out. Facebook was pretty rudimentary and Twitter didn't even exist. Gaining no traction from my posts (of course) I branched out into writing about music in general. I attracted a few followers (plus a lot of bots ~ not sure what their purpose is, but whatever), followers who left comments. I loved that. It felt good to communicate with real people who shared my interests.  

The last comment I received was in 2013. Yes, ten years ago. It was partially my fault and partially Google's. Google emailed me that my domain was up for renewal, but I didn't open the email in time, and thus my blog was deleted. Trying to connect with a helpful person at Google is nigh impossible. They kept sending me in circles ~ to sites that were completely irrelevant, to other staff who'd refer me to still other staff. Then they stopped responding all together. I finally gave up and created a new domain, but that meant my followers were gone, never to return. Sure, I gained some new bot followers, but that's not really the same, is it?

Eventually I realized that nobody was left to read my posts, so I simply blogged for myself. I wrote about more than music. I ruminated on past jobs, childhood memories. I was careful to never blog about my current job...because you never know. But had I, I would have had plenty to say. I decided it was nice to have a written record of certain events, things I could go back and re-read when the mood struck. It turned into a journal, which was okay by me. While I always write as if I'm talking to a person, I'm not inconsolable if that person is just me.

Today, curious, I searched "Do people still read blogs?" The consensus was a definite YES! Digging deeper, however, apparently all the writers were referencing business blogs. You know, you have a business site and you tack on a blog to talk more about your products or offer little tips on how valuable they are. That's not really a blog. It's a long-winded ad.

Then, of course, I ran across the lone person who actually stated, "I only have about 10,000 followers". He claimed his is a personal blog, but what the heck is he blogging about? Some very obscure topic that ten thousand people across the globe are interested in? I don't know; maybe how to forge your own eating utensils or something?

I don't blame strangers for not finding my blog. I don't search out blogs, either. Sure, I run across some when I'm researching a particular topic, but I didn't even know I was accessing someone's blog until I pulled it up from the Google search results. Blogger used to have an option at the top of each blog site for discovering other blogs. I did it a few times. It produced random results, which was rather cool. I enjoyed reading what other bloggers were writing about. Apparently that no longer exists. Too bad.

Sure, social media has overtaken the universe. I scroll Twitter every day, too. I hate Facebook and avoid it with a passion. I'm not an Instagram aficionado and I've never had a TikTok account, but I'm not so ignorant to not know that billions of people are obsessed with those spaces. And I guess long form writing is a dinosaur. Who has the time or patience? One can find long form writing for a price (see: Substack), but one must possess a fat wallet in order to pay for all those subscriptions. 

So, I just keep journaling, going my own merry or despondent way, depending on the day. It's rather freeing. If I embarrass myself with something I wrote, I'm pretty sure I can bear it. I don't remember ever re-reading something I posted and deleting it. 

When I was about nine I bought one of those pink diaries that had a gold lock and a little key. Even back then I guess I couldn't stop myself from writing. I should have. One day my mom found it and read it. Which. may I say. was outrageously intrusive. I may not have been the All-American mom, but I never invaded my kids' private thoughts. She grew furious at the innocuous things I'd written. I think I said something about having a crush on my cousin. I was nine! After that day, I never inked another word in that diary. I might have even tossed it in the trash. And I didn't write again for years, and even when I did, I didn't let anyone see it. Sort of like my novels 🙂

Does it bother me that no one is reading these words?

Not really.