I have to say, I don’t find blogging very easy most of the time. Not because I have nothing to say – sometimes I don’t, but I am capable of waffling on about the most trivial occasions, as those who receive my longwinded postcards will know. I have to say I don’t squeeze as much on as I used to. The first postcard I sent to my parents-in-law involved my mother-in-law getting out a magnifying glass.
Now where was I? (You begin to see what I mean.)
It’s that strange self conscious feeling of being yourself in front of people. No, no, that’s not right.
I shall use an example:
Something is troubling me and I wish to tell a close friend about it. There are three close friends available. Now, I will be able to talk to them all individually about the problem, but will have difficulty talking to all three at once. I shrink into myself – despite the fact I do not mind any of them knowing, the context isn’t right.
That is probably as befuddling as all my previous statements.
When you ‘blog’ publicly (I even feel weird about the phrase, as if I’m using a language that isn’t mine, that I have no right to use), you feel a certain need for clarity, definition, that you wouldn’t have if you were merely writing for yourself. Yet there is a certain attraction to sharing, to responding, to not be one person expressing thoughts to a mere lifeless page, or screen. And so I would like to do this more, but…