It’s quarter past one in the morning and I am writing my third blog entry today. This may end up an addiction. I’m not sure at this juncture whether that’s a good or a bad thing. As you may have guessed, I managed to decide on a course of action to salvage what has threatened to be an unproductive day.
I decided to watch Little Children, a superb film about the lives of a suburban mother, a stay-at-home-dad, a disgraced ex-cop and a convicted sex offender. Each one of the characters is battling with their demons, searching for a way to escape the lives they are dissatisfied with. But this blog post is not about the film.
I did not watch the film in one sitting. I tuned in and out sporadically, pausing at times to make myself coffee, and occasionally taking long breaks in order to read. What I was reading was other people’s blogs. I’m not entirely sure what I was looking for. Perhaps I was merely satisfying curiosity, seeing what others were writing about. Perhaps I was subconsciously scoping out the competition, if other blogs could be considered in such terms. Regardless, there was one I stumbled across which rather piqued my interest.
The blog featured the musings of an anonymous writer, who appeared to be writing for similar reasons to me, if not entirely in a similar style. The various entries made sense in my mind, occasionally unwittingly describing my own feelings incredibly well. But this post is not about the blog.
Rather, this post is about the conversations which arose from reading the blog. I posted a comment on the “about” page, praising the work the author had produced. To my surprise, I got a response, and a few comments on my own posts. Now, WordPress is hardly kitted out as a discussion forum, but I responded again in turn and very soon a conversation was born. It’s an odd experience, conversing on the internet, semi-anonymously, knowing full well that anybody could tune into the conversation. Hell, it’s an odd enough experience for me just conversing a lot of the time, and yet, here I was.
We were able to offer each other solidarity; knowing that we were not alone in our way of thinking seemed to be a big help, and in turn gave us something to talk about. Remember what I said about opportunity? Both hands, my friends, both hands. And yet, I held back. Conversations have a habit of spiralling into destinations you never planned for. Not in itself a bad thing, but knowing that every man and his dog could potentially read these conversations caused me to be a little more measured than perhaps I’d wanted to be.
Still, communicating with someone, anyone, is why I created this blog in the first place. It just happens that I managed to find someone who shares the sentiment. Thank Goddess for the Internet, I guess.
Keep reaching out.