The One Where I’m Not Sure How to Go About This

By: epluribusgeenum

Feb 07 2009

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Category: Figuring it out, Uncategorized

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I’ve been keeping up with my progress on blogging everyday… and since it only really matters to me (and all two of you other readers) I’m feeling pretty fine about it. Sometimes I find myself catching my virtual tongue, though, and that’s not really what I want to do. While I do keep a private written journal that I write in at the end of everyday, there are plenty of things that are discussable here, it’s just that when people do ask if they can read my blog, the censorship mechanism in my brain, however miniscule it may be, re-ignites. Well, buzz off mind-filter! This is my space, and while it is never my intention to hurt anyone’s feelings, I know that the person my writing makes myself out to be at times will do just that. In fact, a lot of what I blog about hurts my own feelings, but that’s how I know best to become more self-aware of my mistakes and my shortcomings, so I can pick myself up and start anew.

I once had a friend tell me that she was upset that I translated a day-earlier tiff into a livejournal entry. First off, it wasn’t about the tiff, so that was mistake one. And second of all, even if that was the topic of that entry, to be upset about that is nearly ridiculous. She had the power to do exactly the same thing, and would I have a problem with it? No. Because it’s her right. I simply ask readers to afford me the same privelege that I grant you in letting you into my world. My blog is, essentially, a moving, perpetually-changing script of my mind.

Lately I’ve been helping my mom and dad understand how to use the computer better. Unfortunately this is both a blessing and a burden to me. Blessing: the more knowledge the better; their quality of life is enhanced and if I can help that I will do it; and the more they know about computers the more money they’ll be willing to put down for the choicest techno merchandise. That’s probably about as capitalistic as I’m going to sound today, so we’ll leave the blessings list at that. But then, there’s the Burden: of knowing that they can start to access this world that I’ve built, that has been fairly separate from my family life simply because I knew my parents view the computer as completely foreign and unusable. That’s just selfish, though, and I’ve realized that for awhile. But you can’t disagree that it happens to be incredibly convenient!

Well, life for me isn’t about convenience, it’s about living so you can always tell the truth, and that’s one of the hardest things you can do. So at the risk of digressing way too far from my original point, let me introduce a disclaimer, however late or early on in the game its introduction is. I write in the virtual world to understand myself, but more importantly myself in relation to the rest of the world. First-worlders can whine all ding dong day about how they lack privacy or how the Internet or technology is getting out of control. Well, it is, sure, sometimes. But here’s that age-old lesson again, it’s what you do with it. Put it into perspective: those in the third-world don’t whine about privacy or the Internet, because the ability to globally connect is a commodity that both wasteful people toss to the wayside and less-fortunate people travel miles for. Shit, I just digressed even further. New paragraph!

I write for me. I write to help others understand themselves. I write unapologetically in that what I say is not an offense. This is who I am. If I worry about how my mom will be bothered if I discuss trouble that I’m having with habits, or if I talk about how someone bothered me that day and hold back, it’ll all come out vague and loose-ended. Especially in terms of my family– it’s hard because those are the people I want to disappoint the least, but the two-fold conundrum stems from the fact that my family is supposed to love and accept me no matter what. So this is how I choose to communicate, and I invite anyone, seriously, anyone, to read it because I’m perfectly aware of my privacy (or lack thereof).

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