I’m guessing you don’t know a great deal about me. If you did then you must be of-fay with reading into people’s writing and telling bits about themselves. What you do know is how I write, and I guess that’s my voice, how things come out, how I speak.
I’m happy and reflective, contemplative and calm. That’s kinda me to a tea. But isn’t that the best bit of blogging. You know so much about someone and yet nothing. I could have a mohawk, ripped jeans, sleeves of tattoos but on here, I could come across as girly, conformist, almost naive.
Blogging is the ultimate expression in some ways and the cheats way out in others. You put so much of yourself into a blog, onto the page. You and your thoughts are laid bare, and yet its faceless. No one really knows you, unless your linked to Facebook and then your friends may know its you, but its anonymous.
A chance to be you, and whatever you, you want to be. It’s a chance to start over, to contemplate mistakes and move on, much like a confessional or a prayer. Its you at your most vulnerable, for the world to see, except they don’t see you, appearance they see, the essence of you.
I guess that is the real you, more so than how you look, but its the irony of being as open and forthright as most are in their blogs, and yet hidden by a veil of trust and comfort, they only know what you write. They can’t see if you’re lying, exaggerating, putting on a brave front…
I try to be as true to myself, as my thoughts as possible on here, I try to let the real me, however hypocritical, emotional, ironic I may be, to shine through. Even the uglier sides, because that’s me too, just a me I shield from public view in reality.
Blogging for me is in this way both an outlet for my thoughts and a closed diary at the same time. I think that’s why I blog, why we blog. We aren’t standing on a soap box preaching to the world our face laid bare, but we’re doing it from behind a screen, and that makes all the difference.