Friday, April 21, 2006
I'm a bit frozen in place in this little blog life I lead. For one, none of you even know my real name. That's really the least of my concerns though, cause what's in a name? You get more of "me" than a lot of people do - not that you're asking for it, but you do come back for something...
No one in my 'real life' knows about my blog. Not one single human being. Is that weird? Is it? I'm asking, so feel free to answer. A lot of people don't even know I write. Some of them do, but in the past I have had a couple of my friends read a short story or two, and it felt like I had Freddy Kruger in my stomach, striped shirt, scissors for fingers and all. No wait, that was Edward Scissorhands. I loved that movie. But having them read my short stories wasn't fun for me. Maybe you get through that if you give it a chance. I don't know. Haven't tested it out. I took a creative writing class once. I had to read my work in front of the class. It would have been unbearable, but coincidentally I had an academic wine and cheese party right before class and in preparation for my reading I guzzled a couple of glasses of wine in about 10 minutes. It worked.
If the privacy issue isn't enough cement to stand in, I have these technological blinders on. I'm no idiot, yet I've just barely managed to figure out how to publish posts. I somehow stumbled onto how to make a blogroll, and on the advice of a fellow blogger, I learned how to see my stats (so thankfully I know that, when I'm lucky, all 7 of you read what I write). Outside of that my blog has been static. No Madonna-like reinvention of the self here.
I am interested to know how anonymous you are with your writing. The idea of saying, "Hey [insert name of any friend], I have been blogging for two years" kills me. I feel like I might as well be talking to my friends about masturbating. No - wait...I can do that. So why is this one so hard for me?
Let me try to answer that honestly. By telling people I write, it feels like I'm telling them I write WELL. I worry I'll sound presumptuous. So what? What am I afraid of? I guess I imagine people scoffing, eye-rolling, looks might be exchanged. I worry I would sound self-absorbed, dramatic, affected. But what's the worst thing that could happen? What if, in fact, I suck AND I keep writing, thinking I'm ok? I guess nothing, really.
Everyone has their own truth. I'm a firm believer that there is no such thing as an objective truth. One assumption I have always held, of which I have only recently become aware, is that anything outside of obligation or doing the "right thing " is simply frivolous. Writing falls into this category. It's hard for me to openly do something that has no purpose beyond personal gratification. So, secret blogging forever? I have no idea how to resolve that. I guess I'll play it by ear. I'm asking the questions. That's gotta count for something. Do I just say fuck it? Do I need to put it out there and if people don't like what I have to say, that's not my problem? Do I swallow my fear and forge ahead or is this little aneurism something that should be clipped and left alone?
Posted by Rachel at 12:10 PM