The Hottest State

So it's 4am and I can't sleep. I was reading, then trying to sleep, but my mind wouldn't stop until I got out of bed and got everything I wanted to say out of my system. I was thinking about self-censorship and the problems it creates. Similar to a post recently on Electrolicious, where Ariel says "it's a constant balance between revealing too much and revealing so little that Elish becomes a ticker tape of Ariel events and not much else". When I first started this in 2003, there was much less me in it. It was mainly links to things I thought were interesting with a little bit of commentary/explanation from me. And back then, only a few co-workers read it. It was a competition to see who could get the most hits (through e-pimping, a whole other story). Over time, there have been less and less links and more and more me. Which was fine, but then I found out my Dad read it (when he called to say "please don't use the word fuck on your website") and then later that an employer had read it. With this in mind over time, I really thought hard about what I said. I don't think my father or my former boss is a regular reader (ha - with the infrequency of my updates, I'd say the title regular reader could only apply to the other Pixie) but I'm still careful with the stories I tell here.

One solution would be to have a password protected diaryland account, but I don't want to do that either. Occasionally I've gotten emails from people (strangers) after they've read something I wrote and it is cool to know that someone thought enough of what I said to take the time to email. And it's always flattering (and a bit strange too) when someone I know tells me they've read it.

Somehow, my real diary has suffered the most. It's barely 10 pages in, and I've had it for about a year and a half. Which is too bad since I've kept a written journal since grade eight and now the past few years are a virtual blank, with the exception of a few entries or the random things I've posted here.

Often I think I should write about something, but when I sit down to actually do it, the words just aren't there. I start a post then end up closing the window because I can't make the words sound right. The point of a blog is to have an outlet, a form of expression... But if you find yourself censoring yourself, what is the point?

Of course, as Olin Miller said, "you probably wouldn't worry about what people think of you if you could know how seldom they do."

With that in mind... I think I'll just write for myself, say fuck if I want to, and appreciate it when someone tells me that they read my blog.

posted by pixiesparkle @ 4:59 AM