Summer in October

It’s October. It’s time to celebrate autumn. Build my harvest booth, more commonly known as a sukkah. I’ve been doing that, battling mosquitos and time and heat. It’s 85 degrees F out there. Many years we sit bundled in jackets and gloves outside. Not this year, apparently. So Bamboo and I came in to cool down and visit the ducks.

Wow. Did Bill, Drake and Mallory have a major complaint. Seems our neighbors have started having some sort of racing (honestly, there was so much quacking going on I’m really not sure WHAT they are racing). But I DID see the HUGE Finish line with checkered flags. Sigh. Hey Rodvik – WHEN are you going to implement the feature that lets me NOT SEE my neighbors????????

So I put up a hedge to make sure that the ducks had some privacy. Then the five of us settled in to enjoy the soothing sounds of waves and seagulls. Ahhh.

If it’s not AnnMarie’s cars crashing off the road into my front yard, it’s the neighbors incompetent guests creating huge wake for resting ducks. 🙂 /me scribbles indignant letter to the editor

Is My Blog My Diary?

I don’t know quite what this blog is, what it should contain. It was easy when all I did was “factual reporting”. That’s how it started. Then it became more personal. All of it – SL, blogging.

I wrote a post this morning. It explains how I am feeling, what I think I might be doing in the future. Except…. I am reluctant to publish it. I have tried to adopt a positive outlook on life over the last few years. I have learned that even though I might be down in the dumps today, next week I may not feel that way. Even though today I may be preoccupied with emotions running rampant, tomorrow my calm rational side may rule (yes, I do SO have one. pffffft.). I’m opposed to making DECLARATIONS. Typically I end up over-turning them sooner rather than later.

So what do I do about this morning’s unpublished post? It is a true reading of who and what I am today. But I may not want to live with that recollection tomorrow. If it remains factually true, it reveals the pain I feel today. But what if it does not remain accurate? Or what if it IS accurate, but I prefer not to dwell on feeling low, feeling the pain? Should I let it simply sit there, my own outlet, and continue to focus on embracing the positive? I feel as if publishing is the proverbial kick in the pants for myself. There! I said it OUT LOUD! Now I HAVE to go forward!! But maybe it’s better to simply go forward, and skip the tears and drama?

I have to keep going forward no matter what. LOL. That comment reminds me of one of my very first posts. My coworker told me waaaaay back when that a blog was like a shark – it had to keep moving or it died. *grin* Well, the same is true for people. Maybe that is my answer.

Why do we blog?

The other day a friend and coworker gave me the link to his personal website. It contains photos, pictures, artwork, personal essays and opinions. It is extremely frank and honest. Although I didn’t notice any identifying data when I was browsing, it does contain his first name and names of family members and true details, so I suppose someone could tie it back to the proper individual. It does not appear to have been updated in awhile, but it’s still there. Nicely done, by the way. Many of my friends use their blogs to post deeply personal writings, about what they do and what they feel and what they think. I read such blogs with a mix of admiration and horror.

a-lot-to-think-aboutI do not consider myself an especially private person. I tell many people many things about my life and my feelings. While I’m not sure that there is any one person who knows everything about me (possibly my husband) there is no one thing about me that is not known by somebody else. I am the person you meet – whether here in my blog or in RL. BUT. That person is rarely the entire me. That’s true for us all – we are someone slightly different in every interaction. But I started this blog as part of my job. My audience was my coworkers and perhaps RL family and friends. I never anticipated what SL would be to me nor that this blog would evolve as it has. So when I write here, I am always aware of who may be reading. And I try to never post anything that will backfire on me if it ends up in my work portfolio. I try to never post anything that will harm my family, emotionally or in other ways. I try to never post anything that I will regret should I run for public office (um – that’s a joke, people). In other words – there is a lot that never gets posted here.

I have considered creating an alternate blog. its-good-to-have-friendsAn alternate persona. A place to vent and scream and tell all my hidden thoughts and feelings. But I don’t believe that there is anonymity in the internet. Ultimately someday somewhere somehow everything can be linked back to me. So that coworker/friend wrote: “…asked me why I keep this blog around. Why? For my children, of course.” He went on to say that he figured someday his children or their children or their children’s children (etc.) would Google (or the then equivalent) and find him and know who he was. Okay. I can understand that. But I don’t agree. That doesn’t work for me personally. My son does NOT really need to know who I am that intimately. He DOES need to know that I am human. That I have faced adversity and sometimes I have triumphed and sometimes I have stumbled. He does need to know that I have feelings and thoughts and passion and dreams. He doesn’t need to know the details, he doesn’t need to know my mistakes, he doesn’t need to see me bleeding on my internal crosses or to know when and how I’ve sunk to my ugliest self. He needs to know that such things happen and have happened and that life goes on. But for me – I think it is sufficient for me to say to him – “Yes, bad things have happened. Here is how it went.” And I can tell him without necessarily baring the full spectrum of emotion and detail. My life is not meant to be an open book to him, or to anyone.

confiding-in-a-friendDo I regret this decision, to NOT post my emotions? Oh yes. I certainly do. Many times. Many times in one day even. Maybe I’m a coward. But I simply imagine being faced with what I wrote on some other day in some other mood. And the impulse dies. For those times when the need is overwhelming and there is no friend to hear me, I write haiku. I’ve said before how I love the bare 5-7-5 meter. How I must pare my thoughts down. Forced to cut to only the basic point. You know that I love words and run on and on. Haiku forces a discipline on me that posting does not.

Am I a coward? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I am simply the wrong generation. My friend is my generation, but he hit the web long before I did. So I’m not talking “atomic age generation” necessarily. I am talking “virtual age generation” – that is, the time you plugged in to the virtual life. For my son and his friends – they have always been plugged in. They don’t know life without it. I barely remember life without it, it is so much a part of me now. But I remember enough to know that I don’t want my entire soul bared to the light.

I have seen several articles and stories about how people twitter something, email something, post something, etc. and that “something” comes back to bite them. They are fired, they are sued, they are arrested, they are divorced, they are stalked. And yet not a day goes by without millions of people continuing to bare their souls on the web. The number grows daily. Is it generational? Is it a cultural change brought about by something else entirely? Are we that alone in the world? That egotistical?

I am not saying that posting our inner selves is a “bad” thing. hands-stilled-in-my-lapI really don’t know that it is. I suspect that it will come to be the norm, actually. That the reluctance that I feel will be an aberration. But I am not there yet.

So much I need said.
Can you hear my silent screams?
Hands stilled in my lap.