Remember my obsession with my site meter?
Remember how it led me to discover that I had a graveyard stalker?
Well, this time it’s contributing to a serious inferiority complex. (Kids, go
ask your mom look that up on Wikipedia.)
But, like most of my stories, you’ll need a little bit of background to understand this phenomenon.
See, my site meter tells me, not just WHO visits my site, but HOW they got there.
If you think I’m kidding, think again, because I’m not.
My site meter tells me that some people reach my blog through predictable means.
Such, as, googling “Nicole Hearn”. Or, “Nicole Hearn Blogspot.”
Is that weird?
No, that isn’t weird.
That’s the kind of keyword I love.
People put my name in a search engine and find me.
Isn’t that just so….happy?
It’s the kind of thing that makes a person really want to just die and bequeath all of their money to Google.
People also reach my blog because they want to read about a song I posted.
Which is a little less thrilling. I mean, with all of the brilliance and wit on my blog, the people really come there just to read a post that had, like, THREE sentences (if that) of my own original writing? But it’s true. People search for the violet song I posted. The violet song that is basically one big long run-on, tongue-in-cheek sentence.
And, I do admit it. It’s a pretty cute song.
In fact, want to know how I got the words?
I googled them.
But, back to business: after that, the blog searches really take on brand-new dimensions.
Like this one:
“exuberates in a sentence example”
Or, how about this one?
“random quotes about weekends”
“good life name of goat”
Good life name of goat? Excuse me? Am I missing something?
I think I must be missing something. Please, let me be missing something.
What could that sentence (sentence?) mean?
No, really. Were they asking what a good lifetime name for a goat was?
What other kind of names do you give goats?
Bad life names?
Maybe my main question is this: did they find what they were looking for on my site? Did they satisfy their curiosity?
Did they visit again? (Nevermind. I know they didn’t visit again. Because my site meter tells me so.)
But enough time about the goats.
How about this one?
Yole, ya’ll? Really? Remember, I was the one who didn’t know what Yole meant. Why is google sending poor people to my site for enlightenment, when I’ll only knock them further into despair? Is that fair? Is that really going to help global morale?
There are other keywords. But one of them really takes the cake.
No, really. Takes the cake.
“What are the real poofy scarf things called?”
And, uh, that search obviously led them here. To that picture that my mom said made me look like I outweighed an entire village of Asian sumo wrestlers. To the story about the kid named Grease who pulled his ipod out only long enough to claim prize after prize he won in a raffle. To the story about the fluffy white hat and the Leisure League singers.
Tell me: would you be traumatized if you were innocently searching for a poofy scarf, and if your search led you to that story?
I like keywords. I like figuring out from whence my blog readers have come. It’s reasonably nice to know that Google knows I exist. But remember how I started this post by saying that I was having a serious little inferiority issue?
Well, let me explain where that all comes in.
Pull up a chair and sit down, kids.
Pour yourself some tea. Nevermind. I don’t like tea.
Okay. Now that you’re nicely settled, let me explain this whole story in very
Palin plain English: among all of the keywords that lead people to my site, among all of the poofy scarves and the goat-naming parties and the name Yole and the weekend quotes, want to know the keyword that most frequently brings people from Google to nicolereneehearn.blogspot.com?
Oh. I see your ice-cream bowl is empty. That was fast.
Seconds? No? Are you sure? Then back to the story.
It’s two words.
If you’re one of the five or so people left in North America who haven’t yet googled his name, Jay Hearn is my brother. And apparently he’s somewhat of a minor celebrity on the World Wide Web.
Now, you’ll indulge me if I have a few deep philosophical comments:
Isn’t it just a little bit unreasonable, that I should take the time to type the
few blog posts I actually get around to posting and then that he should swoop in and be responsible for half of my readership base? Is that really fair? I mean, I really do love Jay. And it’s not like I’ve never googled him. But still, people. One in every four times that someone types something in on google and lands on my blog, that “something” they typed was “Jay Hearn”.
Okay. I’m off my soapbox now.
And I’d like to finish up this blog post with a good deed. To the unlucky individual who thought that they would find out the perfect name for a goat by visiting my site, let me help make up for the disappointment you certainly experienced when you actually clicked on my link.
Tell me what you were feeling.
Tell me about how difficult it has been for your poor nameless goat. Tell me how embarrassed he’s been with this identity crisis.
Is it good to get that off your chest?
There, child. Have a good cry. It’s okay.
Let me make this problem go away for you.
Name your goat Yole.