You are currently browsing the daily archive for November 24th, 2008.
I’ve been doing some thinking lately about why I blog. Why I choose to share what I share, and withhold what I withhold.
When I returned to blogging around October of 2007 (previously I’d had several personal websites and a LiveJournal, on and off, since about 1996—when I was THIRTEEN. Literary masterpieces, my first “blogs” were not), it was mostly just to share my interesting and comical thoughts (although, how “interesting” or “comical” these thoughts were is debatable). I had become bored at work and needed something to fill all the moments in my workday after I’d checked Facebook and MySpace eleventy bajillion times, after I’d finished my work and there was little to occupy my time.
I was in a relationship with Murray at the time, and while I did blog about things related to him, our relationship was not the focus of my blog. I started out at Blogger, then moved to WordPress a few months later, deciding that it was the superior of the two. I used my first name and Murray’s first name (although I switched to using only his first initial upon my move to WP), and would only post photos of myself periodically.
One day, not long after the breakup with Murray, when checking my blog’s stats, I got a sinking feeling that my privacy was about to be compromised. I made the impulsive decision to close the blog and open a new one, and only told those in my gmail contact list about it.
This is that blog. I named it Long Red Cape after a song about letting go of something you had been holding onto for far too long. Not only was I in love with the song, but I thought its meaning was very fitting for the phase of life I had just entered. Moving on. Letting go.
Through blogging, I have “met” throngs of amazing women and men, and I’m grateful for the experience I’ve gotten through all of this.
When I look at my entries that garner the most attention—higher stats, more comments, longer and more emotionally-driven comments—are the ones that relate to my dating life, post-breakup.
While I don’t write this blog for my readers, I also don’t do it JUST for me.
That being said, I think one of the things that makes my blog unique is the theme it has adopted as the months have passed (almost six months since the breakup! CRAZY! Seems like five minutes ago I was writing the five month post) is this: dating in a small town.
You may be thinking, Whoop-De-Fucking-Doo, LRC. Congratulations. I don’t give a shit.
I know many of you who read inhabit large cities. I live in a town of less than 20,000.
Dating in a small town? Is some TOUGH SHIT.
Do you know how hard it is to hang out with someone ONCE and then find out the next week everyone is talking about how you are in a relationship with that person?
So all the crazy stuff that has been happening to me has largely been the result of living and dating in a small town. Because Murray? And BE? And New York? And even Adam?
Yeah, they all know each other.
For example, the other night, after drunkenly giving NY my number and probably being more flirtatious than usual, I saw Murray, and he said, “So, I saw you talking to [NY] . . .”
Me: “Yeah . . .” (thinking: NONE OF YOUR DAMNED BUSINESS, HOLMES.)
And the other night when I was out with NY? One of his friends said, “I see your car over at [name of intersection] sometimes, who lives there?”
Me: “Um . . . [BE]’s parents.” He asked me this RIGHT IN FRONT OF NY.
So, uh, don’t be surprised if the craziness continues. Because I am in like with two boys right now, and I hope, for my sake and theirs, that the shit does not hit the fan.
In NY-related news (you seem to all like him so this should make you happy): we hung out again on Friday night, and I actually did sleep in his bed. Still no sex, which is the way I want it to be, but there are times when we’re getting hot and heavy on the couch that I am thinking GOD WHY DON’T YOU JUST RIP MY CLOTHES OFF ALREADY. He doesn’t snore, which is fantastic, because I have a hard time getting to sleep when it sounds like someone is choking on a windmill. I cooked dinner for him last night and we played Scrabble.
Can I just say? I LOVE THAT HE WANTED TO PLAY SCRABBLE WITH ME. I always feel like I’m being an imposition on someone if I ask them to play a game with me. Most guys I date, do not play games (well, not games like SCRABBLE anyway . . . they play MIND GAMES. Totes different). I ended up conceding because he was ripping me a new one.
I actually think he might be too smart for me. He writes shit. Shit that gets published. He has a very quick wit. And he has a phenomenal vocabulary.
And I? I write this little blog that is basically just a dump for my brain and emotions. Not exactly on the same level as his stuff, as I have read some things he has written (GOOGLE = MY BOYFRIEND).
I know this sounds bad, but I’m not used to being the less intelligent one. It’s not that I need to feel smarter than the other person to feel in control. It’s not that at all. I LIKE smart guys. They TURN ME ON.
I just feel uncomfortable if I’m unable to communicate with someone on a higher level than myself. I think things like, “Does he think I’m just another one of those cute, dumb girls who has gotten through life on her looks alone?” I mean, I know I’m no beauty queen, but I have felt judged on my looks before. People think that since I’m young and cute, that I can’t possibly know anything about life, because things have just been handed to me.
I didn’t mean for this to turn into a long-winded rant on feeling pigeonholed, because I really don’t feel like that most of the time. I guess I’m just not used to being the less intelligent one.
BUT. That doesn’t stop me from being SERIOUSLY IN LIKE with NY. He makes me giggle, and he gives me the WHOOSH feeling when think about kissing him.
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In other news, Ashley of Turquoise Ribbons gave me this lovely award:
The award says: “This blog invests and believes in proximity” (meaning, that blogging makes us ‘close’-being close through proxy). These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbon of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers!
So here are the folks I’m passing it on to:
