Warning: I have been Contemplating Life. Again. A recent post by Bess, whose blog I love to read, is the cause this time. Don’t blame her, though. She’s smart and thoughtful, and I thank her.
According to Bloglines, this blog has five subscribers. Just who am I writing for? Them? Myself? The Great Unknown? I am used to writing my personal thoughts for public consumption; all those years in journal class taught me how to trust my heart, dive in, and have faith that I’d be heard. But that was in an intimate setting. I came to know the people who were listening to my words, and I trusted them just as they did me. So who is listening to me now?
Am I writing for those five people and the handful more that stop by here? No, I’d be posting here even if I knew for sure that I was the only reader. This is as good a place as any to write. I started Not Plain Jane because I had knitting things to say, and because knitting is a vital thread in the rest of my world. And it made sense to invite my virtual friends at KR to visit with me, just as I visit them at their blog-houses.
That’s what I like to think, anyway. I don’t tend to share really personal stuff, because none of you know me and I don’t think I could begin to tell you my story (not that it’s dramatic or anything) without driving you away in a miniature drove. I’ll add stuff to put things in context, the same way I would if we were getting to know each other at, say, a knitting group. But dumping the whole pile at your feet? I wouldn’t dream of it.
The whole virtual world is welcome here, but not the real people who matter to me. What is that about? I’ve given my blog address to exactly one person who knows me in real life. I’m not even sure K reads it. I wouldn’t mind if he didn’t, but of course I hope he does. I don’t invite most of the people I know to read my private journal, so why would I invite them here? The difference between the writing I do in my little red leather book and here at the keyboard is becoming clearer. This is not private. This is the opposite of private. It is not, however, the opposite of personal. Everything is personal. The internet is a surprisingly intimate space after all. Weird, huh?
Some people know I have a blog. I tell them that much, but I don’t offer to share it with them. I pretend it is too risky, or something. The insincerity and arrogance of that attitude has just smacked me on the side of the head. “I write a public blog (read by at least five people!), but you aren’t invited to read it.” Who do I think I am, anyway? I’m going to go try and get over myself now.