does anyone else wrestle this much with the composition of a single, inconsequential blog that for all intents and purposes less than a handful of people may ever choose to lay eyes upon? i'm gonna guesssssss probably not.
the question i constantly wrestle with in the process of assembling these literary gems [ha] is how much of myself should i share? i know that if not for the limitations set by social norms, there is very little i wouldn't share. in fact, i came to this monumental conclusion about myself the other day when i was journaling: i have no desire to keep any secrets about myself. that truth is evidenced by the fact that i just posted information from my private journal on to my online blog. go figure.
i understand that this particular aspect of my personality may be every bit as unique as it feels. people go at great lengths to hide the things about themselves that they don't like, from circumstances in their past to personality quirks and insecurities. i've found that a lot of what i do [including but not limited to this blog] is motivated by my desire to expose each and every quirk and insecurity - good, bad, and butt-ugly even if it means owning up to a sometimes shameful past. the secrets i do keep about myself are kept out of the social necessity i eluded to earlier. i mean i guess it might be weird to put all my business up on the internet or something. whatevs.
the real butt-kicker is that those limitations end up hurting my case in the end and make any disclosure counter-productive. i would like nothing more than to provide detailed explanations for everything i do but i know that even then, the flawed human experience we all endure makes faith in the purity of anyone's intentions practically impossible. coupled with the reality that i am in fact a little bit nutzo [as we all are] and the end result is a bigger mess than any of my efforts could ever hope to undo. add to all that my inexplicable need to employ all kinds of big smartypants words that serve no purpose other than to color everything i write with an heir of pseudo-pretentiousness and boyyyyy oh boy do we have a humdinger on our hands.
the major fuel behind all of this is my fear of being misunderstood. in a perfect world, i would be able to fully articulate my heart's intentions and no one would misinterpret anything i say or do ever again. then i'd fly off into the sunset on my purple sparkley unicorn, we'd slide down a happy rainbow made of jujubees and me and my husband jason schwartzman would live happily ever after, amen.