This little blogging adventure has created an odd paradox. Each entry is public and available to anyone who might find it. Anyone. In the entire world. And yet, in my head, there is the perception of privacy. I suppose that comes from the fact that it is somewhat anonymous. In so many ways, the internet creates this illusion of anonymity and privacy even as we reveal things to strangers. Since my first and last names aren't stuck on each entry, I make the assumption that no one really knows who am I.
But what happens when they do?
I've been totally comfortable knowing that one or two folks have found my blog and read it. I appreciate the comments. I like sharing my thoughts. But it occurs to me that I've not given the URL to a single person I know. Why?
I guess it seems more vulnerable to have someone I know read my thoughts. It feels more intimate. It feels more exposed. And I'm not sure I understand that phenomenon. I'm not writing anything that reveals my deep, dark fantasies. I'm not admitting to heinous crimes. So what makes it feel this way?
Perhaps it isn't what I write, but simply the fact that I'm writing? I've never thought of myself as a writer. I'm not a terribly creative or insightful person. I'm just writing stuff down. And maybe that, in itself, is a little embarrassing.
And maybe out of millions of bloggers, I'm the only one who feels this way. Maybe not.
Maybe it is time to invite a friend to read.