It's only about 6 hours since I mentioned this blog to 111 of my
closest friends which makes 113 people who are aware of its existence.
Not that the other two aren't my closest friends; just that they don't
use or won't befriend me on Facebook.
Since then, I've got slightly obsessed with Page Views. I wish I
hadn't discovered that I can access the blog 'dashboard' on my phone.
That would have saved me a lot of time; not logging in every hour to
see how many people have read something I've written; being excited
when I see that 30 pages have been viewed in the last hour or
disappointed when there've been only a few views.
I can see this becoming addictive. So far, it's all 'wow, I wonder if
I'll get to 100 page views within 24 hours, that'd be amazing' but I
fear the downside. What happens when I get none in a day? Do I start
wearing blog patches to ween me off? Do I take up crack to lessen the
lows? Is this going to turn me into a druggie and a junkie? (You can
be both; my dad told me).
But then you can go even further into the stats. You can see how many
times each post has been viewed. Currently, more people have looked at
the mundane photo of an airport window than have read the lovely story
about my friend Paul.
I like to think that most of my friends are intelligent souls but it
seems that the majority would sooner look at a picture with pretty
colours than spend some time running their finger along the screen,
silently mouthing the words as they learn about my encounter with an
Fair enough. It's a modern world with little time to spend reading
long-winded nothingness. Therefore, this post is a test. I shall
entitle it something provocative to see if I can entice you in. If
you've read this far then you'll understand the title is meaningless.
If you've not read this far then you are currently wondering what that
was all about. Or you're back at the airport photo.