You do me, I’ll do you
Hi Rasma, subscribe me, I’ll subscribe you back. FOLLOW me I’ll follow you back. Just shout at me after you doing so. Thank you
That message came in my morning email, along with the Urban Word of the Day, a solicitation from eBayMotors (sell your vehicle!) and the Urban Myth Newsletter. It was from harisoyono, or something like that, sounding like a beauty salon blog – “Hair’s YO or NO!” being the motto.
But what is this about – subscribe (TO – you dimwit!) me and I’ll subscribe (TO!) you back ? Why? Isn’t that like saying I’ll barge in and listen to what you are saying over there at your coffee table if you barge in and listen to me?
No, I’m being unfair. Blogging is not the same as having a private conversation over coffee, I mean we are blogging to the world, right? But my dear friend har-is-oyo-no seems to want to add me to his-her charm bracelet of followers, put me in the stats as a way of making him-her-self feel important, connected to the world. Our stats, after all, are proof of how many people are tuning in, listening, being influenced by us.
I got an anonymous letter once. Written in red pencil on lined notebook paper. It looked like a girl’s handwriting, made me think of a quiet freckled very tall girl with carrot colored hair who had been my student once but whose name I couldn’t remember. She had been a fairly anonymous student and the anonymous letter-writer identified her-him-self as just that: I sat in the back of the room and never spoke, but I want you to know how much influence you had on me. I loved being in your class. You changed my life.
They say in advertising that one complaint equals eleven dissatisfied customers. When I got the anonymous letter I realized that some inverse principle of that rule is true in education. I already knew of the students who had told me outright that I had meant something to them, but this anonymous letter opened a new possibility… people whom I believed I had NOT influenced in a positive way (which was definitely the case for the carrot-topped girl who never spoke or hardly looked at me) … there was at least one such person out there wearing my imprint on their life. The letter-writer could represent a scattering of others through the years.
None of whom read my blog. Or my poetry. Or my other writings…
Or do they? The point is I don’t know. They might or might not, but of one thing I’m fairly sure: harisoyono wants to subscribe me, but will he / she / it read me?
Hmm, maybe I’ll do a little test… there’s only one way to find out!