that i am now part of three blogs? seriously. i can't even keep up with one.
so, i've been reading a lot for class lately. Vanity Fair has to be the longest book--and, as M. says, it just keeps getting longer. anyhow, i was sitting at my coffee table yesterday, and in the middle of reading i got distracted by trying to see how high my clicky pen could jump. i tried different parts of the table and different methods to keep my hand still.. and then i realized what i was doing. i think this may be early-onset insanity.
here's my problem, i think, with blogs. they are so dang public. not that people necessarily do read this one--i would have given up checking it long ago--but that people could read it. thus i don't feel as free to express thoughts and feelings like i do in a journal. i always think about how i never want posterity to read my journals. or if someone decided to compile my journals to figure out what i'm like, they'd probably think i was some crazed, complaining, self-indulgent, navel gazing i-don't-know-what. and, heck, i don't want potential googlers to find this and find that. maybe i'm just thinking of blogs in the wrong way. maybe they don't serve the same purpose as a journal. maybe my neuroses go in the journal and my something else goes in the blog. but what?
well, here's one thing: i think i have an allergy to high achievement/working towards high achievement/being seen as working towards high achievement. i gather this from class posts. i have to post weekly in each of my grad classes and really have a tough time not wanting to be super-informal. i have a tough time forcing myself to be polished there, as one would think i ought to be with anything my professors read. not so, mes amies. i almost take pleasure, soft be it spoken, in not being polished. weird. and i thought i was going to keep neuroses in the journal.