Peeping Amy

I feel a bit like a voyeur recently. I have found the blog sites of some of my scrapbooking heroes. I have no connection to these women besides the emotional connection I have had to their journaling over the years. They don’t know me and I have no earthly right or need to read about their lives. But I do anyway.

I love reading their stories. Many of them are wonderful writers, witty and touching without being maudlin. I get inspiration from reading their entries. But then again, what good is that “inspiration,” it’s nothing but another rationalization for reading them. I know that they put the blogs out there so they can share their stories, and I doubt that they would mind knowing that I read them. Even so, I find myself feeling guilty sometimes, like I am hiding in the bushes outside their living room and peeking into their lives.

I have yet to leave a comment on Ali or Cathy’s website. (If you are a scrapbooker you know who I’m talking about. If you aren’t, well, you wouldn’t know them even if I gave you a last name.) I would like to but I feel like the nerd trying to butt into the cool kids circle. I suppose leaving comments is the polite thing to do. It’s what I would want readers of my blog to do. If something makes you think, or strikes you as funny, leave a comment. I love comments. I still can’t bring myself to comment on theirs. I just peek in their windows. The voyeur with the binoculars.