Last night, I couldn’t sleep for some reason, so I found myself as I have so many times in the past sitting here, staring at my Mac. Midnight is most likely not a great time to open Firefox Firebug for the very first time (thanks very much Scott!) oohing and aahing over the newness of it all.
But I had just finished going through the comments pages on my dashboard , reliving the evolution of my patch of space in Bloggsville and remembering just how things have come to pass. For those of you who are number starved, and whom I promise to continue to try and understand, I’ve included some stats. Hold on to yourself, please.
In the past year, I’ve completed .71 posts a day. Okay, so that shouldn’t be plural, but still. The point would be that I’m dedicated (or obsessed) and dutifully try to put out more than a welcome mat each day. Now what I “put out” could be debatable with respect to quality, but it’s real. I do put thought and effort into it and I do crack myself up most times. Except when I’m not feeling flamboyant or irreverant. Feeling introspective. Humble. It’s difficult to be silly when I’m like that, so I don’t try, even though I know that often, people arrive here, see my “Yay I got a new Mac” face in the header and think they’re going to get to laugh. I always feel responsible about not providing that particular service 24/7. But I have seen that there are many sites out there that do.
In the past year, I can proudly say I’ve survived an average of 13.86 spam comments per day. I’ve decided the .86 is much like what a can of Spam might look like should it become lodged in a window screen after I threw it across the room. I’ve graduated from the urge to blog about my spam as well, concluding that everyone else is dealing with the spambots at about the same time as I am, so it’s old news. Right? And the worst case of slamming I’ve received has been from someone who looked for me, found my blog and then just let it rip. Bless her heart. It’s nice to know that after people retire, they can always turn to stalking as a sort of moonlight occupation. In the spirit of turning lemons into lemonade, I did learn how to block an IP address. How cool is that?
In the past year, I’ve averaged 5.58 comments per post, which means a nice little group of people show up to say hello and talk nonsense, or do the whole cyber hug fest thing when it’s needed. My very first commenter is an accomplished artist whom I sadly haven’t visited in some time. I wish I knew why. It made me feel so warm and fuzzy when her comment arrived when I was busy snarking about my doctor.
The post that has garnered the most attention is this one: 38 comments. w00t! Thanks, Dave! I’m sure some of the comments are mine, but clearly, people had something to say. It makes me smile each time I see it. It’s full of energy and — well, me. Sometimes, I crack myself up. But not as much as I used to. I must have needed to purge a few things from my system and am reaching a point where I’ll just spend the rest of my time here speculating on points of light flickering on the floor in my dining room
Wait. I’ve already done that. And I most likely will again. I’m sort of spacey like that.
I’ve had ever faithful followers. Ever. Faithful. They wander in and out, just as I do at their sites, but are never too far away. I don’t know how you put up with me sometimes. I know that some of you hate the politics, but you have no idea how much I supress it. My mother likes to remind me that if she wanted to hear news, she’d turn on the television. Love. You. Mom. mwah! In fact, my most faithful follower admittedly avoids politics.
Since June 16th of last year, meleah of Mama Mia, Mea Culpa has commented more than 80 times, and I stopped counting about half way through. Eighty. I do know how much time and effort that takes, meleah. I do. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I don’t know how you get it all done. I certainly can’t. There are just too many bright and shiny things that snag my attention in the course of a day, and then when I’m not sitting at my computer, I’ll think, “JEEZ. I haven’t visited meleah!” Really. And I completely understand why she’d rather not hear my opinions and rants on political issues. Her grandmother has said it all and no one will ever say it better! Have I ever told you one of my grandmothers was named Evelyn?
Cooper — you’re a close second and that’s saying quite a bit. I stopped counting at 40! Thanks for being the one who provides me with an outlet that my brain needs. I depend on it. You’re simply amazing, and when I compare what I was doing when I was your age to what you are involved in now, goodness. Please don’t ever disappear from Bloggsville because I can’t wait to see where you’re headed. But I guess I’ll have to, right?
And there are lots of new people who deserve credit, too…but I’ll save that for tomorrow.