There is a certain freedom in knowing your blog is basically undiscovered. It can be argued that you would not publish something you didn’t want anyone to read. But, I do wish someone would see my blog and tell somebody else to take a look and thereby open the door for further inquiry.  Yet, I know there are very few viewers.  As a blog host, you are God.  At least that is what someone told me once. You know when somebody looks at a post, and for the most part, I am my most ardent follower. The identity of a viewer is unknown, but I know who told me they read or look at my posts, so it’s not rocket science. Therefore, I will stand by my assertion that very, very few people read my blog.

I watch to see which posts are looked at.  I have published some very personal, but what I consider entertaining insights into my experiences as a person; mother; artist; dysfunctional sycophant; and basically unhinged life-lover, that I did believe a year ago that somebody would find my blog and follow my progress.  Over a year has passed and I know now, aside from initial interest prompted by my encouragement, that nobody really cares what this blog has to say or what is being accomplished. I did put several posts back in “Draft” form after serious opposition arose for speaking about my personal life, but now there is nothing to offend anyone. That has established really safe ground to go forward.

This blog, as I have said from the start, is for me.  I want to chronicle my growth inward and outwardly. I am compelled to produce because I feel the need to post something new.  I want to continue to learn and grow and move forward emotionally and artistically. I have to put in the work.

There are those in my life that I wish cared enough about me to check regularly back to see what progress I  have made as a wanna-be artist and as an individual struggling with self-identity. Even my own family doesn’t have the time or the desire.  I also know there is opposition to this public self-display.  I have failed to see it as that, but I will admit I wish my silent life was heard.  Mostly, I just want to send my art out into the world and see what it can become and if it touches the hearts of my fellow-man (or woman).

Perhaps I am misled. I sort of thought if people cared about what you did, then that would translate as a life worth living.  My family likes me well enough, but I guess the selfish, egotistical side of me wishes I could touch the hearts of those beyond my familial realm. That may not be my fate, but my little blog still gives me a sense of worldliness. Worldliness in the sense that I am giving myself an opportunity to be seen when I am invisible.  I can tell people I encounter to check my blog out and they will or won’t, but I am still giving the world the opportunity to see my light before I sputter out.

I may not be destined to be remembered, but I have been told, even warned, that what you publish online cannot be erased. I like that. I am and will forever be out there.