No,
I am talking about a level of unprecedented self-involvement that has come to characterize this generation.
I am talking about forfeiting intimacy with a few in exchange for fandom from the many.
I am talking about misconceptions, misdirections, etc, etc, etc.
Why then, did I start a blog?
It is a fair question, especially from those with whom I have ferociously debated the concept. In a nutshell, I created August Angst because Kelly told me to. As a good friend she told me that I wasn’t a writer if I wasn’t writing and a blog might just give me the accountability that I needed.
I looked down my nose at the idea for a few weeks and then had a come to Jesus with myself.
“Here is the thing,
I have to write to be a writer.
I don’t write when no one is looking.
I have no time for any submitting work.
Somethings gonna have to give.”
So, I decided to start a blog.
It would be my craft practice. Not a diary. Not therapy. Not something that would take the place of mature and direct communication with those with whom I am in relationship. And until yesterday I felt pretty good about having reached those goals.
But here is the only problem. I don’t know that I have the capacity to write something that isn’t in some way therapeutic. As much as I love to peruse the thesaurus and diagram sentences, at the end of the day writing is always therapy. And that is probably why a few weeks ago when I was feeling fragile, I decided to write about dates from last year.
I did not jump into that writing lightly. I thought about each person who had been gracious enough to pay for my meals, movies and museums and I considered whether they might ever be privy to this little NON-DIARY. It didn’t seem like they would (though I certainly knew there was a chance) so I proceeded with my snarky commentary—knowing that it revealed more about me than each of them.
Yesterday I found out that those little snarky comments had been discovered by at least one of my blog-characters.
And I mean, in all fairness to myself, I have yet to reveal anything horribly tragic about anybody. And I haven’t broken trust with anyone with whom I remain in relationship. But, I still feel like someone should stick my nose in a corner and make me think about what I have done.
It isn’t that I think my words have crippled anyone, in fact I have been assured this is not the case. But I can’t seem to shake that golden rule flippin’ around in my head, so I have to wonder what might happen for me if I came upon this post :
“Tips # 7-15 as learned from the overly dramatic blog-writer”.
7. Don’t be a weirdo 8. Brush your hair 9. Shut up for a half-second 10. What is with all the obnoxious laughing ? 11. Stop interrogating 12. Ever heard of a tweezer? 13. Get some speech therapy for that disgusting smack of yours 14. Try not being the loudest person in the restaurant 15. Don’t be a DB and journal about this date online, like some kind of reject seventh grader
It wouldn’t ruin my life.
I’d probably laugh at a clever line or two.
I might even show a friend in a rare moment of unfrazzled maturity
But,
On my worst and most insecure day, I suspect I would remember one of these clever retorts and cry into my pillow.
So, what ‘s a Golden Rule Honoring, Storytelling girl to do?
I think I’ll start by watching The Social Network this coming weekend . Looks dark, disturbing and philosophically similar to myself when it comes to some of these world-wide venues for communication.
Hoping to be back next week,
until then going to let the angel and devil on each of my shoulders duke it out for the win.
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