Sometimes I sit down to write a post and I feel uncomfortable. I’ll think about work, or my writing, or how I’ve got to squeeze in a visit to the grandparents over the holidays, and I’m struck with how little reality I’ve gotten away with here.
My age, my hometown, my city of residence, my specific job title, the number of pets I have…these are things I’ve done without here. It has helped my writing in some ways. I’ve stretched to describe, elaborate, be specific in ways other than just talking about the facts. Of course, it also might be confusing. You might think a post directed at the certain boy was about my soon-to-be-ex husband, or vice versa.
But the reason for skirting issues that might make me say “software engineer” or “28” is not that I want to write vague and confusing posts. Or because I’m shy (I am, but that’s not the reason).
I want put my writing out “there” to see the reaction. Am I funny? Touching? Can people relate?
I don’t put myself out here because I want someone to know who I am. I cringe at the idea of most people in my life reading this. Because although every word I write is true, it’s also fiction. It’s a story, a present with words twisted in pretty bows. I write here with a passion that isn’t contained by the idea that I am liable to the real world.
And I guess I’d like to think you know me well enough by my posts. I could invite you to a party, all my friends are there, but you’d be the only one who’d know that the plunger on the balcony was purchased on a sick day, why there are four pillows on my bed, or the significance of the pewter statue on my bureau.
Actually, the point of this post was to share some facts, pretty-bow-vagueness aside. I’m coming up to a crossroads of sorts, career-wise. Trying to figure out the best course of action is so daunting that my brain immediately sends out random electric pulses to distract me. I’m cold, my left eyelid twitches, my right hip pops, and I have the hiccups.
I thought sharing some specifics here, making myself grasp those thoughts onto media, would help. But I guess I’m not ready.
Not only am I shy, I’m a little paranoid as well. Would you expect anything less from a drama queen?