Last summer, I was aware of blogs. I had an intellectual marker defining the scope of blogging, its purpose, and the type of people who pursue the activity. I took a snapshot of the situation, made a few judgments, and rolled that into my personal database under the heading of what it must mean to blog. Then, last fall, I began to read two blogs seriously. I'm tempted to link you to them; one taught me a lot about what can be done with a blog, the other a lot about what shouldn't be done (by example). Yet, I am reticent to reveal because it could provide too much a glimpse into my interests. It would allow you information to interpret I don’t want you to have. Besides, blogging is about controlling the flow of information.
That last sentence is wrong, but since I’ve slipped into blogiography (blogging about blogging), I’ll move on. Ultimately, I’d read enough of others’ creations, I knew I had to try my hand, and here I am. I’ve been humbled by the experience.
When you’re writing for an audience (even just two or three people), you become conscious of what you’re saying. For those who pour out unfiltered access to their actions and thoughts to the world, I ask you to stop. It will come back to you; a quick read through the daily news reveals the internet isn’t as anonymous as it used to be. The temptation to use it as a mask is very real, and it is a temptation that has found a home in various media for a long time.
The art of rhetoric, so woefully maligned these days, allows one to tailor a message so that it fits the precise impression intended. In life, I do this all the time and it precipitates episodes like that seen in my last post. The bottom line is that I want to provide enough of myself here to be real (acknowledging that I know many who will read), and yet not cross over into excessive disclosure. Some of you will read that and laugh. I guess the question I’m asking is what if I don’t fall between those boundaries all the time.
What if? This is too dangerous a question, and it comes up in my mind again and again. Too much of my life is driven by fear. Fear that I’ll fail to meet expectations, fear that I’ll never achieve goals, fear that certain desires will never be satisfied, etc.
There are good people in my life, even if they don’t know me. I am touched almost daily by these people. I wish I was better at taking note of that.
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