Thursday, October 27, 2011

Klout Can't Measure Priceless

Five years ago when I started this blog on a whim by writing a post about a TV that my husband couldn't seem to get rid of, I had no idea where it would take me.  For the longest time I wrote, and read, observed, and didn't participate in the community.  Surely, I didn't expect anyone to come here.

My, how life has changed.   

It's hard to believe that it's only been about eighteen short months since I drove to Vancouver to meet bloggers in real life for the first time at a restaurant on Commercial Drive.   Only a year when I flew across the country to BlissDom Canada and met many from the Canadian blogging community. 

There have been so many connections, so many friendships, so many late night twitter chats.  However, while to all of you my life has seemed to be so blessed and fun-jetting here or there, going to this or that conference, cooking up something or hosting a great giveaway, my personal life has been, at times, a real struggle-especially in the last six months.  

People I love, who are the closest and dearest to me, are very ill.  There's more doctors and medications than I can keep track of, talks that nobody ever wants to have, hope for miracles and grasps at every single happy second.  There are possibilities of cures and statistics, medications and awful side effects, and an emotional roller coaster that I didn't think was even possible.

I have hesitated to say anything for a long time, because I have never wanted to be the blogger talking about how it hurts to see people I love so sick, or how I'm trying so hard to be strong when I  just want to curl up into a ball in the corner.   There's also the dilemma of having two people whom I love so much needing not just my support, but their privacy as well so any writing about it has been curtailed, which sometimes leaves me stagnant because I can't think about anything else.  I know you all haven't been getting the best of me, and it has bothered me so much all these months.  Instead of giving you mediocre, sometimes I've chosen not to write at all.  

This morning as I sipped my coffee, my twitter stream analyzed their Klout scores and why they dropped, complained about how it made them feel bad, and some even offered solutions to get it back up again.  As I watched, I could only think of one thing. 

You are all worth so much more than your Klout score. 

Many, many nights over the past six months you have supported me, you have talked me down from the ledges when I have felt like I can't take any more, you have admonished me to take care of myself, taken me out for pedicures, accompanied me on a 10 day road trip to BlogHer, and been here. You've reminded of why I write and renewed my love for this community over and over again.  There have been moments when I've lost my way and forgotten why I blog-nights when I have felt like this is work and obligation instead of love, when my fingers feel like I just have no more to give, not even in a few words in this space.

No algorithm can calculate what every single one of you means to me, nor can it calculate the impact you have.  It doesn't know when you say something kind on twitter, when you pat each other on the back or cheer on each other's accomplishments.  It can't measure the worth of late night direct messages that dry one's tears before she goes to bed so that she can finally sleep.  You've given me escape when I've needed it and laughs when I couldn't find them, all just by being yourselves.

Klout cannot measure that kind of influence.  Stop using some silly number to dictate your worth, because you are something it can't measure.


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