I hate to admit it, but there are days when I take a look around at my so-called presence on the Internet to see how I measure up and, truth be told, I suck. One good Digg does not a famous person make. Usually I won’t be caught dead checking data, graphs, or incoming links. Why ruin a perfectly good day?
Alexa is worthless, and yet now that the arrows are going in the down direction, I wonder that if worthless Alexa contributes to making me feel worthless, than I have a serious problem with blog self worth.
I look forward to reprints of my blog posts in the very same way one might feel after they wash and blow dry their hair. For a brief moment, you feel incredibly worthy of walking out your front door.
I like blog comments and when none arrive, I figure I wrote something boring. And yet, we know I’m not. My site data has been amusingly tracked by Matt Bailey, who with a compassionate sense of “Sheesh, should I warn her about this?” in his eyes, announces that my most popular keywords for this blog all have to do with sex.
The other keywords are for people like Rachael Ray, MsDewey, and Daryn Kagan, because I wrote about them.
A – I can’t possibly be the only person who has.
B – If I write about Kim Krause Berg, will searches for her lead to this blog?
c – If nobody searches for Kim Krause Berg, and keep searching for MsDewey instead, will this just totally mess with my head?
Self worth is not a pretty thing. We base ours on any variety of things. I have blog-self-worth. I have mom-self-worth. I have other self worths I can’t tell you about because it would attract the sex goddess keyword (another favorite one, which I nourish and feed, for my own pathetic self worth.)
I got a unique example of self worth over the weekend.
My daughter’s boyfriend of nearly a year broke up with her the night before the Junior prom this past Saturday. Via text messaging, because that’s how kids do things nowadays. Furious and worried about her, I stayed by her side all day as she mustered the most incredible courage to get her hair done, find the right shoes and earrings to go with her dress, and find a group of friends who loved her and were willing to drive her, solo and dateless, to her prom.
In other words, she went anyway. And, she had a great time.
The breakup was finalized, in person, last night. It’s hard, as a parent, to witness these things, but she’s showing everyone that she will survive this. She has many “just friends” who are boys, who have been to the house to offer hugs and a shoulder to lean on. She likes them because “boys don’t come with the drama.” Her girlfriends always find me so we can have “what to do with Ari” chats, and then they drag her to the Mall, or (as in the present moment) going to get their nails done.
I concluded that no matter how ridiculous I feel about this blog, or how guilty I feel when I don’t post and the lines on the graphs all point downward, I still must be doing something right.
She went to the prom, without him.