So, getting bloggy and occasionally writing about my real life has gotten me into, not trouble — but “spots.” Maybe even “tight” spots. Not often, but once in a while, I’ll get feedback or a reaction from something I’ve written that will kind of catch me off guard and then make me worry about what I’m doing with my bloggy writing and not sleep very well.
It’s reasonable to deduce that this just happened again recently. The funny thing is that I write personal, bloggy kind of stuff way less than I used to. (This could be tied to the fact that my lazy typin’ fingers write way fewer words in general than they used to.) To be honest, I didn’t know anyone even read this site. (Well, I get an occasional response on the LiveJournal mirror posts from this site, but other than that… ? Not taking the interwebnetwebswwwsnets by storm.)
On one hand, it’s nice to know that I have readers I didn’t know I had. On the other… well, fuck. Opened my big mouth on the webs, and now I’m… ah, I don’t want to get too personal, I suppose. I guess that’s what journals are for — the kinds with lined paper and little locks on the covers, not the kind that are posted on the www for all the 1st “w” to see.
That’s what I’m now thinking for myself, anyway. Other folks blog about very personal things, and it works out for them. There are times when I wonder if it’s just a cry for attention, but so what? I guess that’s what all writing is. I’ve read stories and essays about people I’ve never met and felt like I was prying, but, hey, they posted it. And sometimes what they’ve written will relate to me, so I figure that might be why they’re doing it. Not necessarily for attention so much as to go, “Hey, if this happened to me, it might’ve happened to others, so I’ll just write about it so some readers don’t feel so alone.” I get that. And I’ve done that.
But when the reaction you get surprises you in a disappointing way from someone you didn’t even know was reading, well, that gives you pause. Actually, I don’t want to speak for you, so replace each “you” in the previous sentence with: “I,” “me,” “I,” and “me” — in that order, por favor. Of course, it’s not like some bloggy post is going to change the outcome of something as important as… ah, there’s just no way an off the cuff blog of mine could change a mind… maybe it can just sometimes confirm a mind already made up… just be that last bit of info needed. Or something. I dunno. Shouldn’t any more lose sleep over it.
This has happened in the past in funny ways, too, though. Years and years ago, back when I only had one or two gray hairs and 230 lbs would be a cause for alarm, not celebration, a reader was convinced I faked a Scottish accent at a part-time job and got into shenanigans that I thought were super far fetched after reading one of my old “Pure Lard” columns. Having fun with first person stories of my life — some lies, some truth, some a mix — always did kind of amuse me.
Still, I now have it in my head that getting bloggy might’ve just cost me something important to me, or at least played a small part. Helped a decision I thought already made become solidified, resolute in the opposite way I would’ve liked it to go. Even if I thought it was already resolute before I wrote the blog. While I am always hoping for reactions to my writing, I kind of wish I hadn’t learned of this particular one. I would rather not know, but now I do, and it’s knocking around in my head.
So, what’s the solution? Just post funny links, advertise my comics, ninja poetry, and maybe some clearly ridiculous stories that no one could think were true? Maybe. I’ve always had an uneasy relationship with my personal business and the internet.
Ah, dammit. If only I wasn’t so open / starved for attention.
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