Few more months and my blog is going to complete three years which will make it the second most consistent thing in my life (first
being my laptop). I cannot believe a scatterbrained, careless person like me
could remain committed to one cause for such a long time. As per the google
analytics, Rhapsody in Blue has a good number of readers unless I have a
stalker ex-lover(s) who likes to read the same post over and over again. Quite surprisingly
I have reached that number without having to promote ‘look-I-am-such-a-superior-intellectual-ass-person’
image to my friends and family. It's funny that they have not the slightest idea what a fucking bitch I truly am
beneath that calm, icy exterior. But then I begin to wonder, seriously, who read
my blog? Who are those nameless, faceless people behind the charts and traffic
sources statistics? Do they enjoy what I write? Do they relate any part of it
with their own life? Or am I just one more fucked up wannabe trying to live up to my own juxtaposed standard of pretentious rebelliousness? But do I really want to know?
I follow a blog whose author is quite sensitive
about the number of comments per post and she openly admits that. Well, you can’t
judge her. People enjoy when their effort is being acknowledged. Anybody hardly
ever comments on my blog. I confess, I like it. I prefer the complete silence
instead of a long serpentine line of appraisals and discussions beneath every
post. Don’t get me wrong. I am not one of those people who turn from follower collecting
whore to condescending ‘celebrity’ blogger once their blog gains a certain
amount of exposure. I think a blogger is obligated to reply to every single
reader comment unless it’s a penis enlargement notification or how to get more
follower suggestion. Personally I follow a strict reticence policy on social
media barring a few exceptions. (Because I am cautious as well as lazy) There are only two blogs where I comment almost
regularly. Well, they not only write really well, but they radiate such
a warm, welcoming vibe through their words that even a reluctant person like me
feels the urge to contribute a few thoughts of my own. On the other
hand, my blog is more repelling than welcoming. But that’s my life’s motto. Stay
the hell away from me; I am likeable strictly from a safe distance. I get a nauseating
feeling in my stomach when I have to make one-to-one communication with people. Affability is not my forte unless the other party is a dog. That's mostly because I always feel partly paranoid partly alert so that I don't end up being too vulnerable. Conversation isn't particularly an enchanting experience with so many invisible barriers on. And secondly, I am
terrible at processing compliment as well as criticism. As much as I appreciate
their silent support I am totally fine with my readers' mysterious, anonymous status. Some things in life are better left undiscovered and unsaid.
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