I have a confession to make.
I’ve been taking myself far too seriously. I’ve been sucked into the numbers game. I’ve been getting jealous of other bloggers—of their stats, their follower counts, the number of comments after each post.
My inner dialog has sounded something like this: “Why is she so big? How come she has so many followers? How come I suck so hard? What I am I doing wrooooong?”
In other words, I’ve had my head up pretty damn far up my butt. And it’s time to pull it out.
That’s not what I’m here for. That’s not why I do this. This is supposed to be my playground—the place I go to write whatever the hell I want. I spend all day trying to be the writer others want me to be—and quite frankly, I don’t always like her. I need this space to remind me of who I am and why it is I love to write.
So screw SEO. I’m done playing the numbers game.
I’m going back to my roots—to the days when no one read this but my mom and my cousin’s wife (hi, Kat!). I’m going to write for me.
I hope you’ll all stay with me. I love each and every one of you, and the community we’ve built. But I can’t put you first anymore—at least not right now.
I have to get the smell of butt out of my hair.
Note: I know this is whiny and self absorbed, and I’m sorry to subject you to it, but, hey. This is my space. If I want to get all emo and gaze into my navel, that’s my prerogative, right?