Well. Colour me a touch embarassed.
On the one hand, I’ve always known this is an out in the open blog, here for anyone to find if they’re so inclined. I took a few steps to keep it hidden, for a while, but then said no, and opened it up to search engines about, oh, a little over a month ago. Even though I’ve known that, I never really expected anyone to read anything here, unless they weer friends. And god knows, most of the friends aren’t terribly interested in reading here, either. It’s mostly a record for me, so I can look back and remember and keep track…
So it’s a bit, oh, alarmingly embarassing to be told others are reading and watching. Others being what I suppose you could call colleagues. I think I’m still blushing.
More seriously, and interestingly, I suddenly find the censor standing up front and center. Don’t say anything controversial, don’t talk about thoughts or ideas or dreams and desires. Just stay quiet, maybe occasionally post a thought about Sartre and the class readings – clam up.
Think safe and secure, first and foremost. Turn into that anemone.
It’s going to take a bit of effort to get over that, and actually be comfortable – but that’s the point, right? Place nothing online that you wouldn’t mind anyone reading, seeing; that you wouldn’t mind losing control over and letting to the wild. If you’ll say it here, make sure you’ll say it in person.
But it’s hard to reconcile that with reality. It’s easy to feel safe, secure, and anonymous here in my wee corner of the web – and I’m not. No more so than anyone else. And having that brought quite to my attention makes me now wonder if I really mean it, can I really do it? I don’t know.
I did, however, have a very interesting lunch today – and see, I am mentioning it. A lot of advice about what to do the next while; an overload of advice, really. Nothing I didn’t know, but it’s good to hear it from someone else. And of course, above all else, two things: be patient while things are worked out, and be aggressive about being there and visible, without being a pest. And reassurance that no, I won’t be forgotten in the chaos. Nice to get some reassurance, too, that how I was feeling about everything – frustrations and impatience and excitement – was both valid and not over the top or otherwise inappropriate. Plus, it was just nice to get out of the house and talk with someone, especially someone with the same interests. I could listen to Sean talk about public health for hours; it’s terrifically interesting.
However, the cynical Buddhist would like to know what she did, karmically, to always end up being the first, the guinea pig.
I suppose I should take some solice: at least they can’t screw up with me any worse than my parents did…