On Publicness

A couple weeks ago a friend of Foxy's--a member of the LDS ward she attends and I attended until a couple months ago--told Foxy that she and her husband read our blogs. I was happy to hear this because it means there are more people who know about Foxy's current situation, something she doesn't easily tell people about on her own, which means that there are more people willing to offer her support, whether that support is in the form of watching Little Dude while Foxy plays the piano at church or simply being able to offer empathy when she needs it.

I was also happy to hear this for more selfish reasons: I like it when people read my blog. I like to know (believe?) that people are at least mildly interested in what I'm thinking, and I like to know that people can see the parts of me I display here but not necessarily in my daily interactions with neighbors and friends, the evidence that suggests to me, at least, that I'm a bad person (a logical fallacy I'll expound on later), and that these people still manage to be nice to me when they see me in real life.

So if you know me in real life and you read this blog but I don't know you read this blog, consider this my invitation for you to tell me. My blog is not a secret; my name's right there in the upper right, next to my photo. As a librarian, though, it's important to me to be able to classify my friends--those who read my blog and those who don't. So leave a comment here or just say something next time you see me, even something cryptic like "I know who you really are, Mr. Fob," or "The sparrow flies at midnight." Trust me, I'll be happy to know. And I'll read your blog if you invite me to.