B is for... blog?

Ok, so... blogging. I hate the idea of it for some reason. It's like writing a public diary that you beg for someone to read and care about. It seems like a cry for help. I mean, I used to keep a diary when I was little and would secretly beg for someone to read and care about it. But that was SECRET begging. I guess blogging these days is sort of more like public radio. I still feel uncomfortable with it, because I don't really think anyone I know would want to read anything I have to write about. At least not the people I would privately hope would be reading. So, for right now, here's my thought of the day: I hate talking. I am filled with amazing thoughts, introspections beyond what I can convey with a human tongue, observations, knowledge... And the second I open my mouth, I feel like I suddenly turn into a different person. A person that chases away whoever was trying to speak on the inside. It's as if my ability to speak with my mouth somehow stifles what I really want to say. Much of the time, this person is very funny, or friendly, or otherwise likable in all the right ways. And much of the time, that's not exactly how I was feeling right before I started talking. This is why I like to write. Why I like to text and chat instead of use the phone. Why I prefer emails to conversations using my voice. My voice represents me poorly. I can't even read aloud half of the stuff I write because when I say it, it's written by someone else. Someone other than who's talking. I also end up feeling this way about other people, though. People who I spend a long time chatting with, or to whom I write more than I see in person, end up having a different voice in my head than they have in real life. It's as if I can hear their true inflections, minus anything distracting about their body language. And especially minus my constant self-monitoring as they are talking to me. We are trapped by social conformities when we talk in person, unless we've known each other our whole lives. When you've known someone your whole life, it sort of removes all the baggage (good and bad) attached to communicating with them. When there is space - when you either haven't seen someone in a long time, or have just met them recently - there is always baggage. It's never just your thoughts coming out of your mouth; into the cake batter is now mixed things you think you have to do or say because of your cultural heritage, things you think you have to do or say because you've learned through observation that you should, things you want to do or say because you don't know how this person will react to you and your thoughts... On some levels I wish we were all completely comfortable with one another. And on other levels I know that that small amount of discomfort is the true spice of life. How boring it would be to meet someone new if you already knew what they were going to say or do in response to you? How boring it would be if you never had to try. So, in essence, if you know me but have never figured out why I hate using the phone, THIS is why. It's also why I crave human contact so strongly, even though I seem so avoidant most of the time. It's damned challenging being in the company of other people. It's damned challenging, when you think about it. But what other point is there to being alive?

(Originally posted on February 8th, 2008)