Usually it works like this: as soon as I say something definitive I turn and do the opposite. A week ago I wrote in the blog that I didn't feel like writing and I didn't, but since then have felt like writing and have. In the mean time pretty much everybody who reads the blog stopped reading. Google offers an analytical service where I can see many many statistics about who visits the blog (minus actual identity), for example I can see the number of visitors to the blog in a day. Then it takes that and puts it on a graph, so I can see the number of visitors who visited in a week/month/year etc. and it looks a little something like this:
However in the last five days it has done this:
Which is kind of exciting in a couple of ways. The first is a freeing way, that well, great, I've lost my entire readership. I can completely change direction/identity/purpose. No readers means no pressure. Second, it means that I no longer have to worry about posting to the blog. I can just totally let it rot, like a loaf of bread wrapped in a plastic bag tucked in a drawer in an unused kitchen in a locked apartment.
But, I can't help but notice that the drop off began right after the posting two postings ago the one written a couple of days after I got back from the meditation. That posting, after that posting the reader ship dropped off dramatically. Hm. Maybe I seem affected? Less so than the last time but the last time I was so paranoid about speaking about the experience because when somebody is under the spell of something it's easy to tell...unless you're under the same spell and then it seems normal. Like stress, or the World Cup. Or having two hands and ten fingers. My cats used to watch my hands by now they look at my face. I used to look at their eyes but now watch their ears. Most of my writing has come out of anxiety and misery, small islands of clarity in the midst of confused paranoia. I fell in love with English when I went to Japan. I fell in love with Japan when I came back home. Serve! I hope nobody reads this.
Aw heck. Who am I kidding. Of course I want your attention. I'm just sore after the first week of being back in school. Rather, during the first week of school. Breaks are lovely but the transitions are awkward: meeting a new class, or two, or three; settling into a semester, trying to solve problems that may or may not exist, snacking on anxiety cakes served by fellow teachers and students. Done for the day though. Laying on my bed with the cats. Jinx is making a heavy breathing noise and the brown one is dozing on my thigh. That's all for now. Nap time.
However in the last five days it has done this:
Which is kind of exciting in a couple of ways. The first is a freeing way, that well, great, I've lost my entire readership. I can completely change direction/identity/purpose. No readers means no pressure. Second, it means that I no longer have to worry about posting to the blog. I can just totally let it rot, like a loaf of bread wrapped in a plastic bag tucked in a drawer in an unused kitchen in a locked apartment.
But, I can't help but notice that the drop off began right after the posting two postings ago the one written a couple of days after I got back from the meditation. That posting, after that posting the reader ship dropped off dramatically. Hm. Maybe I seem affected? Less so than the last time but the last time I was so paranoid about speaking about the experience because when somebody is under the spell of something it's easy to tell...unless you're under the same spell and then it seems normal. Like stress, or the World Cup. Or having two hands and ten fingers. My cats used to watch my hands by now they look at my face. I used to look at their eyes but now watch their ears. Most of my writing has come out of anxiety and misery, small islands of clarity in the midst of confused paranoia. I fell in love with English when I went to Japan. I fell in love with Japan when I came back home. Serve! I hope nobody reads this.
Aw heck. Who am I kidding. Of course I want your attention. I'm just sore after the first week of being back in school. Rather, during the first week of school. Breaks are lovely but the transitions are awkward: meeting a new class, or two, or three; settling into a semester, trying to solve problems that may or may not exist, snacking on anxiety cakes served by fellow teachers and students. Done for the day though. Laying on my bed with the cats. Jinx is making a heavy breathing noise and the brown one is dozing on my thigh. That's all for now. Nap time.
