A sarcastic shout out of "thanks" to Sunday Scribblings for putting the absolutely horrid song, "I Will Follow You," sung by Ricky Nelson no less, into my head. Having read the prompt last night right before bed, you can well imagine how long it took me to fall asleep with that sickening song looping through my head. Not even the painkillers were a match for that tune.
I've no following of my own. No fame and fortune to draw someone in. No special talent luring young wannabees along. No access to insider information to entice with. No true dirt to share. No crisis or spectacular crime or threat of crime to bring in the eternally lurid.
Have you heard about the people who have tweeted jokes about harming someone and then have had a huge uptick in following (as the authorities get involved)? Or the one who tweeted about killing herself and then was "saved" by Demi Moore? The number of people following that lady increased by more than 600 in the first 24 hours. The fabulous, fiery car crashes or threats of jumping off buildings we used to have to be satisfied with happening upon in person just once or twice in a lifetime happen all the time online. And we get to be there! And rather than just be satisfied with reading about the results in the newspaper the next day, we can follow the victims or perpetrators until the bitter end.
I am a follower. My Bloglines feed numbers 140. It's gone up and down depending on my focus. Last year, it was down to fewer than 15. It crept up as the arm pain increased and my ability to focus on doing anything productive diminished. But when I "fall behind" because of life? I only care about catching up on no more than 10 fellow bloggers. "Mark as Read" is being clicked far more often. And, for this recovering Catholic, the amazing thing is I feel no associated guilt because of it.
I follow fewer than 90 people on Twitter. And those people are all people "I know." I see the thousands and thousands of followers some fellow nobodies have, and I laugh. It's a race, I guess, but it's not one I'm currently following. In fact, for every two follow requests I get, I block one. Because I'm not sure exactly why these random people want to follow me. But I'm pretty sure if I'm not interested in following them, I'm sure as hell not having them follow me.
My favorite followers? The two-legged and four-legged ones who inhabit my real world. Oh, they drive me to distraction, to be sure. [The larger of the two four-legged ones in particular is relentless.] And I use this space to bitch about them and escape from them. In the end, though, I will follow them. Wherever they may go.
[Photo courtesy Geocities.]