lately i've been wondering just why i put so much of my life online for public consumption.
...that's kind of the question of my generation, isn't it? we're the oversharers. we put every minutiae of our lives on the internet for everyone to see, even though probably nobody cares but us. we're solipsists. we need to have that self-absorbed bubble where we feel like we can yell into the digital universe and somebody, somewhere, will listen, and care.
and that's why i blog, really. i've had friends profess shock and vague horror at the idea of putting as much of themselves online as i do, but really, it's the only thing i know. i've been keeping blogs for 12 years now, and for me, they were never genre-specific things or info dumps or money-makers. they were just...online diaries. chronicles of the most interesting parts of peoples' personal lives. (and i had a very interesting personal life, once upon a time. though it was only ever vaguely alluded to, because i've always tried to be smart about what i say and what i don't say in the public space.)
yes, it's self-indulgent, for sure. i've never fooled myself into thinking that a mass of people actually care about my silly little life; instead, i've mostly kept this for me, and if people - be they friends of mine or complete strangers - want to come along for the ride, then i'm cool with it. (i guess my blog is public rather than private because some part of me does want an audience to my life. if a tree falls in the forest, etc.)
so i was thinking about that, and then i got access to my twitter archives, and it just rolled the whole ball along even further.
because the other reason i do all this is to keep a digital history for myself. i'm a firm believer in the past, and though that means i tend to live in it a little too much, i really feel that the answers to so many things lie in past events and experiences. (probably because i tend to repeat a lot of things. what's that old saying about the definition of insanity...?) i like getting context, and i like seeing personal progression, or regression, or whatever. it makes sense to me, somehow.
and so reading over the tweets i sent out into the digital world over the last five years was a bit of a trip, and also kind of depressing -- because they made me remember who i was and where i was in my life when i wrote them. i clearly remember writing all of those things. it felt like just yesterday for some of them. i remember being that girl, once.
and it made me take a bit of a hard look at where i am now, and the choices i've made since those days.
the same thing happened just last week -- i came across a word doc of private writing i did in late 2006/early 2007, and i was literally stunned. just stunned. i mean, i could have written that shit last week. my life is in reruns, and it's not entirely a good thing.
that said, there is a lot in my life that i don't reveal, because of course there is. there has to be.
and that's forever the hardest part: that i'm self-embargoed from all the things i want to write about the most.
("And if you come by here, for Jane or for me," I recited shakily as I inhaled from my cigarette, tears running down my face, "your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.")
it was a very long year.
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