…but I think that’s okay.
It’s not like I go around horrifying people with stories best filed under Too Much Information. But I’m not a private person. I am happy to tell people whatever they want to know about me. If you email me and say, “Hi, you don’t know me, but tell me about the first time you had sex.” I’d probably write back and ask, “Well, how do you define sex?” And then I’d pull them into a long, back-and-forth exchange about what constitutes sex, until they grow to regret ever having emailed me, but eventually I’d answer the question.
I’ve always been this way. Growing up I had “private” journals, which I wrote with the full intention of letting other people read them. I guess I didn’t see the point of writing to myself. There was always the thought in my head that if I wrote something down there was always the risk that someone would read it anyway and so I only wrote things I was okay with other people reading and so, if I was okay with other people reading them, why not just let them read it?
I do keep a “private” journal these days. I write in it, mostly, because the journal itself is so pretty and I’m fond of the concept. You’re welcome to come over and sift through it.
It’s not that interesting. It’s riveting stuff.
I used to think the only real purpose to keeping a private journal was to give the police or the FBI insight on victimology. If I went missing I would’ve hated for them to waste time thinking I’d run away. So I’d write stuff like, “I would never run away. If you’re a police officer and you’re reading this SOME HORRIBLE PERSON TOOK ME.”
Thankfully, I was never kidnapped. But it made me feel better to know that I had my bases covered.
By contrast, my girlfriend is very private. I think she’d remove herself from the Internet entirely if she didn’t need it to communicate with some people. She’s often horrified by how easy I am to follow online. I always remind her that if I weren’t easy to stalk she would’ve never found me. And if she hadn’t found me, she would not now be blessed with the pleasure of my company.
I think mostly I’m grateful that I’m the sort of person that doesn’t mind talking about herself in public forums because otherwise I wouldn’t have half the friends I have (or the girlfriend I have) and I’m rather fond of these people.
There was probably a point to this entry but I think I lost it in between K coming home from work and me taking down the recycling.
Points are overrated, anyway. Unless you’re playing sports. Or a board game.
Which reminds me, I think it’s my turn on Words with Friends.