Stropfest of '09 is officially over

Can we still be friends?

I didn't mean to sound as though I wanted a love-in at every post. Gosh, I know how blogs work!

My sensitivity was coming from the recent health scare that is shrouding the family right now. I observed over 60 different IP's (computer addresses, basically) visit in less than two days when I posted about that. And while they're the sort of numbers this blog usually sees on a daily check-in basis (not including feeds) and the traffic was down, in the silence and lack of support equal to (or anywhere near similar) that amount of readers over that time, I felt a bit undressed emotionally. It's my Dad! It was not a TV show character I was talking about, not a distant relative or someone else's friend's aunty's boyfriend I am about to go and carry with my (somewhat fractured, inept) family. It's my Dad. The only parent I have any relationship with. The only person in my family, really, who I feel "leaves me alone" and takes me as I am. Truthfully.

It's funny, I sort of see my blog as a friend. Do any of you see your blogs that way? After this many years, which is longer than some acquaintances last in any meaningful fashion, it is ingrained in my daily routine. Certainly weekly "obligation". It is something I allow myself time to pay attention to. It is somewhere I come to voice things I sometimes don't get an opportunity (or desire) to do in my daily life. With real human beans.

So when so many pairs of eyes came and, I assume, read about the trial facing my father, I found it really painful to think that nobody would stop a moment to comment. It's one of those times when the reality of people reading your words, as if you were "simply" a reality TV show, hit me. I often forget "you all" are out there. As I said, I see my blog as one (collective) friend. And I felt let down by it.

Ironic, really, that the gorgeousness of those who have commented has come to the fore - you women are the ones who usually comment! There are four times as many of you reading... and, in the silence since my post last weekend, I have to simply accept, I see that now, that you just don't wanna show yourselves.

This hiatus has nought to do with the people who are regular contributors (and if you post once every 3 months, you are still counted in that category!) by way of comments. It was more to do with the faceless, nameless people who could well be my next door neighbour, recognising my daughter and having a grand old time reading about me when I know nothing about them ..... it leaves one with a rather vulnerable feeling. A bit short-changed too, shall we say, to not know who that is.

This is why I had to do lots of thinking about my purpose with my blog this week.

I've decided, meh, you can't really stop who reads you. You can't make people find their hearts and consciences and comment when they have never (but read avidly, regularly.... *taps nose*). All you can really do is decide what to give of yourself. If this means I have to take sunny palm-tree-filled holidays (in my mind only) from here/you occasionally in order for me to still write as I see it/feel it, then that is what I will do. Some of you many not see blogs as coming from real people, but I assure you..... this one does, at the very least.

Still. Shrug. Off we go! There is much I wanted to tell you, dear Blog-friend. I have just been so inundated with work (and attacks of the tireds) and this business of thinking, "Do I really need you in my life?" and it's all built to a crescendo.

I'll just leave it to Homer to illustrate where I was this week....