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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Following on from yesterday's blogging related problems discussion, I've got another I've encountered a lot, particularly recently, that's bleeding in to everything I write: what do you do when something that concerns someone else is really heavily overshadowing your life but you can't write about it, but you're not thinking about or doing anything else sufficiently enough to be able to post about anything else?

I mean, this blog isn't meant to be a diary. It's not an honest, open and frank account of my life. I'm not sure what it is - quite often, it's just a place I go either to swear or to show off, and sometimes both. And when I started, I made a decision not to put my full name on it - I was working for a newspaper at the time, and didn't want people googling my name to come across it and find me - and I also thought this would stop people from finding out about it. And it did, for a while. But three years later, and I found myself sitting on a bus last night as one of my friends googgled my name, and started reading out the results that she found.

And I was panicking. Even though I shouldn't have been, because I know full well that I've never said anything nasty about her, unless it's been right up to her face. But as she read out this nonsense I'd actually written for someone else's site, my heart was racing and I was turning bright red on the bus and I was desperately trying to think What have I written? What have I said? Where else will she look?

I don't want to betray people's confidences, and I don't want to offend or upset, and I certainly don't want to be arrested, or cited in court cases, or sacked from further jobs, due to what I write on this, on what is really supposed to be just a stupid sidelined hobby that I started doing at work because I was bored out of my head one day and thought I'd experiment with html.

I'd love to follow the example of someone like Creepy Lesbo, who's managed to keep her identity more or less a secret, and so is able to write about who and what she likes without any real restrictions. And I'd love to be able to do like dooce, and just be as open and honest as you like because those that you're writing about either ignore the fact that she has this website, or are obviously perfectly happy for her to blog on about them as much as she pleases.

So this post, in summary, is a post about something and nothing, because the real something I desperately want to write about can't be written about, and so I've got nothing to say.

This entry was posted on 14 October 2004 at 8:18 pm. 0 comments

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