I never thought I’d be that guy, the one who writes a blog about trying to get people to read his blog. But here we are.
Every single day, I toss a new link into the great abyss of Facebook. It feels less like publishing and more like sending a message in a bottle, bobbing through a relentless sea of baby pictures, cat memes, and political rants.
Yet, somehow, I’ve cultivated a loyal band of over 300 followers. That’s right, three hundred! While that’s a mere pittance compared to the millions amassed by major influencers, I prefer to think of us as the Spartans of social media—the "300" holding the line against the algorithmic hordes.
I used to keep my circle tight, just the "Top 100," but I’ve since loosened the drawstrings (figuratively speaking) and let more folks into the party. Some are former students, some are parents of graduates, and some, I suspect, are still wondering how they ended up following a middle-aged man who writes about gnomes, reflection, and the random ricochets of his own mind.
I originally started blogging again as a mental health tool, a way to get the mental marbles out of my head before they began to rattle too loudly. In the past 90 days, I’ve written 47 posts—some funny, some deeply reflective, and some that make me wonder if I should have skipped that second dirty chai latte.
And I'll be honest: I think they’re getting better. My AI co-contributor (let’s call him the unpaid intern) helps polish the rough edges and smooth out my rambling thoughts. But here’s the crucial insight I’ve gained: those closest to us are not always our natural audience. And that’s perfectly okay.
This space was, and still mostly is, just for me. But somewhere between blog #12 and #45, I realized how much I love it when my words connect with someone out there—when a message lands in my inbox saying, "I felt that," or "That made me laugh," or even, "You're crazy, but in a good way."
I once peaked at 39 likes on a single post. The better ones consistently land in the 30s. Recently, though, I've been coasting in the teens—which, in Facebook land, is the digital equivalent of a poetry reading in a broom closet.
But here’s the unvarnished truth: I don’t want to chase LIKES. I want to chase connections. I write because I believe words have the power to remind us of what we’re all thinking and feeling, even if we’re too polite or too busy to say it out loud.
That said... I would genuinely love it if you clicked the link occasionally.
Read a piece. Leave a comment. Share one that hits home. Think of it as helping a soon-to-be-retired academic slowly pivot to his next act, one gnome carving and blog post at a time.
Because maybe this blog isn’t just for “them” or just for “me.” Perhaps it’s for us. A small online campfire where we swap stories, share laughs, and nod along at the beautiful absurdity of it all.
So, to my faithful 300, thank you. You’ve already made this more fun than I ever imagined. But if you see one of my links float by on your feed, do me a small favor: don’t scroll past. Click. Read. Smile. Maybe even share.
Not because I’m desperate (okay, perhaps just a little). But because writing is my way of connecting, and maybe, just maybe, something I throw out there might connect with you, too.
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