It’s interesting that the longer I have this blog, the more I want to write about personal stuff, which goes against my original mission statement of “I’m not going to talk about myself”. It’s strange to me that all I want to do sometimes is share with you the random things I thought about that day.Then, as I start to write it, I hear a voice in my head that cries “No! Stop this madness! You’re giving too much away. That portion of information could make you identifiable to some random person who will never probably look at this blog. And then what would they think?”
Well, then maybe I should just introduce myself. Tell the good people of blog land my name and post a picture. Perhaps my looks alone could get a few more followers…although it might be more likely that everyone will just run screaming to the unfollow button. I know there is one. I lost two followers within a day or two of each other once and started wondering what I did wrong. I then decided I was secure enough in my blog I didn’t care (while secretly hoping it was a glitch or they both closed their blogs or something). See how over it I am? See, I’m still talking about it, which proves I’m ok with it. Really. I was just like, “Pfft”. Yeah, Pfft!
So, since I’m so secure (which is what you should take away from the paragraph above. Remember pfft? Pfft = secure) why am I in the blogging closet? Why do I do this anonymously? Is it because I’m actually a Hollywood star and I’m worried about blog-aratzi? Or perhaps I’m a great writer who was published a gazillion times, and now I’m just checking to see if people actually think I’m any good, like Stephen King aka Richard Bachman? I wish. I mean…it’s complicated.
Or maybe it’s not complicated. Maybe it’s just that I’m trying to get out some writing without the bias that always come with a byline that tells you my gender and nationality. If I tell you who I am, would you hate me because I was a woman (who sometimes sounds like a dude)? Or am I just a man who likes unicorns (and zombies!) and is just comfortable enough with my girlie side to make you uncomfortable? Would the colour of my skin or my age or the shape of my body attract or distract you from the words on my page? Would it make you like them more, which means, in fact, I could really write anything and get a “but your still hot” pity like? (I’m not too proud to say I’d take it. Yup, totally would. I am not a “like” snob. I understand some people want quality likes, but if you happen to brush by that “like” button for any reason, I’m a happy camper. Didn’t read my post? Well, I’ll pretend you did. And you liked it.)
Why am I so obsessed with that? Who gives a rip what others think of me? I need to be authentically me! To throw off the bow lines, sail into the sunset flying my flag proud. Oh wait, is that a water metaphor? Oh, yeah, I can’t swim. And who am I kidding? I am no one and I kind of like that. I like being ambiguous. It’s like being legion, and at the same time solo. Or maybe Hans Solo. Cuz he’s cool. You’d like him if he had a blog, right?
Why do I even care about that? Wasn’t this supposed to be an exercise to get me writing regularly so that I could get back into the dream of working as a writer? But wait…if I want to do this in real life, don’t I have to come out of the closet to get work? And if I do get work, I can’t blog about it because then I’m ripped from my snuggly closet and you will know who I am. And then people who do know me might read this. And what would they think?!
I’m not ready for change. Excuse me, I think I’ll just close this closet door behind me. It’s actually quite comfortable in here.
Lives In Stone 