Blogging = Confession
I don't know why I say so much when I blog. I blog about more things than I would dream of saying to people face to face. Perhaps it's because I don't have to see the people I'm talking to face to face. Sort of like being in a confessional, except of course that wicker screen separating you from the priest isn't fooling anyone, you can tell it's Father So-and-So and he's about to tailor the penance and absolution to who you are, because he knows who you are, where you live, and what your parents' names are.
For example, I appear to be more forthcoming when expressing my affection online. This is, as lastboyonearth would say, evidence of me being a closet softie.
Well it's not TRUE!
...ahem, anyway.
It's probably because I've been typing away at some form of journal since way before Doogie Howser started chronicling his inane insights in glorious white-on-blue, 80x25. Which means I've been typing away at a computer since grade school. Christ-on-a-bike that's a long time.
When you've been putting your thoughts on magnetic media and phosphor as long as I have, you being to feel a rapport with the computer, as if you could simply beam your thoughts over through your fingers. Actually it's not really that easy. Language is a bitch, and that's despite the fact that I'm a Creative Writing graduate. Some days you just forget one key word and it screws up the whole process. "What's that word for... that thing when you... when you... ARGH!" Write around the word and move on, and toss around in your sleep for losing yet another piece of your vocabulary to systematic chemical and physical abuse of your neurons.
So I suppose the only way to get me to spill the beans about anything is to ask me to tell you while I'm by typing it out. Actually, getting me drunk or drugging me works too. Wait, what was the point of this post then?
I think the title of this post should have been Blogging = Rambling while putting off reading Sales cases.
For example, I appear to be more forthcoming when expressing my affection online. This is, as lastboyonearth would say, evidence of me being a closet softie.
Well it's not TRUE!
...ahem, anyway.
It's probably because I've been typing away at some form of journal since way before Doogie Howser started chronicling his inane insights in glorious white-on-blue, 80x25. Which means I've been typing away at a computer since grade school. Christ-on-a-bike that's a long time.
When you've been putting your thoughts on magnetic media and phosphor as long as I have, you being to feel a rapport with the computer, as if you could simply beam your thoughts over through your fingers. Actually it's not really that easy. Language is a bitch, and that's despite the fact that I'm a Creative Writing graduate. Some days you just forget one key word and it screws up the whole process. "What's that word for... that thing when you... when you... ARGH!" Write around the word and move on, and toss around in your sleep for losing yet another piece of your vocabulary to systematic chemical and physical abuse of your neurons.
So I suppose the only way to get me to spill the beans about anything is to ask me to tell you while I'm by typing it out. Actually, getting me drunk or drugging me works too. Wait, what was the point of this post then?
I think the title of this post should have been Blogging = Rambling while putting off reading Sales cases.
Well, that's what the old Hill Story was for, eventually: less a day-to-day record and more like a time capsule, so that reading it would evoke strong memories. Maybe (barring a complete database wipeout) this blog will do the same for us.
Posted by
alchemical |
1:47 AM