I was just catching up on some old blogs on my reader, and I liked reading most of them. You know what I do when I like reading other people’s blogs? I like them, like in, I click the box to allow my Gravatar to appear.
I got to thinking. Do people who get a ton of likes pay attention to whom is exactly liking them? Sometimes I like a blog that has already been liked by 227 people. Do they notice that I have returned and liked this blog, too? I know that because of the sheer lack of volume to my own blog, I notice every single person who returns. “Oh, yeah! so-and-so liked it!” I know the Gravatar of my regular readers, and I appreciate their business, so to speak.
If for some reason one of my regulars’ Gravatars does not appear for a few days or a few weeks even, I worry.
Is it what I’m writing? Were they so offended by something I said they do not want to return? Was my dry sarcasm more of an ugly humor that no one could appreciate? Did all of my typos and homonym errors finally get to them?
I have to stop before I begin to doubt my very existence.
Except, then the alternative happens; I start to worry about them.
Oh, I hope everything is okay. I hope life is not too busy. I hope no one got sick or is in the hospital. Oh Gosh, what if someone crashed a car?
I find it necessary to pray.
I cross myself. Please, God, don’t let any of my regular followers who have not checked in be hurt. Please protect their families, too. Amen
I usually feel better after a quick prayer. I feel even more relieved when their Gravatar appears back on my page.
Okay, now I have to share a humiliating story. I cannot believe I did this. So, this same Gravatar started showing up day after day. I realized that I was not following this person, so I clicked on his link and began to read. He wrote beautiful moving prose about life and finding a connection. I was moved. In his blog, he said that he was closing up shop to start a new adventure. By providing an email, you could be a follower of the new and improved website. Of course, I signed up.
This is where it gets a little sketchy. On the bottom of his page was his personal email address. I felt so excited to have read his words that instead of commenting, I emailed him. I felt a cyberspace connection that needed to be addressed. This is what I wrote: