Ever since the time Sharon Astyk and her husband walked by me at the state museum the day after I read her post about having sex while foster parenting, I've included in my blogging process a pre-publishing step where I re-read my draft looking for things my grocery store clerk doesn't want to know about me. Sometimes I buck that rule, on purpose, when it's important, and I'm okay with the consequences of that.
Today I think was the first time a very occasional casual acquaintance gave me any sign that they found the blog. It was pity eyes, so I guessed they got the recent heavy post, the one that breaks my rules.
Seeing that, I felt an urge to apologize and explain, defend my heaviness, or at least take feedback about it, let them vent at me, hear their arguments against if they wanted to make some. Ironically I didn't open that dialogue because that would be jumping an intimacy level.
What a weird period we are in for etiquette and social boundaries. I like being the first generation to grow up with the internet, but I sometimes wish I could jump ahead fifty years just so the rules will have been written already. I am not near wise enough to make them up myself.
Today I think was the first time a very occasional casual acquaintance gave me any sign that they found the blog. It was pity eyes, so I guessed they got the recent heavy post, the one that breaks my rules.
Seeing that, I felt an urge to apologize and explain, defend my heaviness, or at least take feedback about it, let them vent at me, hear their arguments against if they wanted to make some. Ironically I didn't open that dialogue because that would be jumping an intimacy level.
What a weird period we are in for etiquette and social boundaries. I like being the first generation to grow up with the internet, but I sometimes wish I could jump ahead fifty years just so the rules will have been written already. I am not near wise enough to make them up myself.