To whom do I write?
Myself? I like to think so.
The line blurred when I opened my posts.
When I browse Xanga (rarely)
I see screaming out at me from all sides:
“I hope you like my site!!”
and I think…. who the hell cares?
I couldn’t care less what anyone thinks of my site.
It’s for me. Nobody else matters.
And yet…
And yet, I try to make it aesthetically pleasing.
Is that for my own eyes or for yours?
Again, I like to think it’s for me.
And it’s not like I’m writing things
that I’m dying for the world to know.
It is in fact, private things.
Sometimes the mundane, but sometimes soul-baring.
And those things are so close to my heart,
so fragile, and I put them out there,
out here where anyone can read them.
Yes, some things are too private, and I keep them locked away,
but most of my journal entries are open to see.
And here is the disconcerting, yet beautiful part:
I see you baring your soul too, and its really amazing,
and I wonder how we (as a people, a generation or two, a culture)
have arrived at a place in which we are okay showing
our most tender and vulnerable inner dramas and secrets
to perfect strangers, or to our friends and families,
without even a “FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE” sign
on the door or the outside of the box.
I open my own journal and look to see if I have comments,
if anyone had something to say… hopefully reflecting my entry,
words to bring insight into my mind or yours.
I look forward with eager anticipation each weekday
to read what you have to say,
my newfound friends aquaintances (… what are you to me?)
and when there is nothing new that you have revealed,
I can feel the corners of my mouth turning down in disappointment.
So now to whom am I writing?
To those who are sharing their lives at this point in time,
this brief glimpse into their hearts and the magical connections
that their brains are making every second upon second upon second?
(albeit not purposely with me per se.)
Or to myself for introspection and catharsis and growth
and to see where I’ve come from and to where I am going?
The things I write are many times not things
I would share with my husband, he who should be the bearer,
if anyone should be, of my secrets and longings
and meandering thoughts about the world.
He doesn’t think like I do. He is a concrete thinker.
His world does not include faeries swimming in his veins
or demons nibbling on his toes to the bones inside.
Silently Surviving 
September 8th, 2006 at 3:01 pm
obviously this is about you, but who is the other you? me?lately i haven’t been feeling inspired. sometimes i like to get the empty flattery i get for my writing, sometimes it lifts up my day a bit. but there are other times where i just laugh at it, disgusted. ugh– people can be so fake (not saying that i’m not at times, heh).this comment really had no point.go ahead, liberate yourself, write for your own reasons.after all, who cares?
September 8th, 2006 at 4:16 pm
Does it matter where friendship comes from? Be it the lady at the grocery store you hit it off with while standing in line? Or some totally random stranger who you will most likely never meet, but offers a sympathetic ear or a virtual hug. It doesn’t matter where that emotional comfort comes from for it to be significant even if on some small level.
I say enjoy those virtual friendships, don’t read into them, or anaylize them because you just never know what thoughtful, or insightful things a stranger might say to stir a new thought in your mind, or break ground to a grand conversation between you and your hubby or other real-life friends.
So…enjoy this virtual ((HUG)) from this virtual friend ;O)~
Hope you have a great weekend!
September 8th, 2006 at 5:38 pm
eyemachine: The other “you” is anyone who is writing personal things that I read. I think my point was missed somehow but that is okay. It was more about noticing the beauty of people connecting emotionally without knowing each other personally, and about the beauty of feeling connected, concerned with what they have to say about their lives. And the beauty of being transparent with people, known or unknown. And that I have changed from not wanting anyone to see what I write, to wanting the people I know read my entries, and comment if they have something to say.I always write for my own reasons. I don’t need liberating, but I understand what you meant.I usually don’t comment on your creative writing because I don’t have empty flattery, I have constructive criticism, and I think that I don’t want to butt into that part of your world. I have no right to dissect your creativity, and I certainly don’t want to if your writing meant something to you, even if it didn’t mean anything to me. And especially I don’t want to butt into that world of yours that is occupied by people in your age range and your mind-set and from whom you may be looking for validation, because I don’t want to embarrass or hurt you “in front of your friends”. Not that I have bad things to say, but that who I am to you could be awkward and be seen as intrusive.Spying_Mom:Yeah I agree, it doesn’t matter at all where the friendship comes from. But for instance, I consistently get a set of footprints from someone I don’t know, I have never talked to, and I have gone to read her entries to see who she is. So we keep leaving a trail of crackers to each other’s sites, but there is no subscription, no comments left, no interaction except the footprints. So that isn’t a friendship or an aquaintance, but we have seen each other’s souls bared however much from our entries, and I don’t know what to call that.Frankly most of my deepest friendships are with people that I’ve met online, some I’ve met in person, some I am sure I will never meet. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it, but I met my husband online too. 😀 I love that online interaction cuts out the superficial things that keep us from being transparent with others in person. Thanks for the hug and ((HUG)) back at you. I always look forward to our chats in AIM.
September 13th, 2006 at 6:31 pm
i understand the turn of the mouth corners…thank you for lifting mine today when i logged back on.peace love and learning.