I'm sorry, how old am I?

Sometimes I forget, in my hurry to get the madness of the moment out of my head, just how public my blog is. How easy it is to find it, how easy it is for anyone to read my neurosis.

That has been the fun of the blog thus far. The ability to expound into the blogosphere (mostly) all madness I want.

Every so often, someone I know trips on it. Sometimes they tell me, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes, they leave cryptic comments letting me know that I know them but not enough info for me to figure it out. Yes, I look up IP addresses, that doesn’t always do the trick and FYI, I once was able to follow the trail all the way to a picture of the person’s house. I didn’t recognize it. I also didn’t research further.

Other times, the comment makes it quite obvious who it is and I want to sink into the floor and wish die because I’ve run my fingers off in such a way that I am now embarrassed.

Sometimes, that has been a good thing. When C stumbled across my blog, and read my frustrations about him, even though this was started nearly a year after he changed my life completely; reading it, and him confronting me about it healed our friendship in ways that time didn’t. And I am grateful.

As far as I know, it’s never been a bad thing. I have censored myself over the years, knowing that splashing details all over the internet isn’t the best way to maintain a healthy relationship. There were, for instance, a lot of issues I had with Biker Bob that I never mentioned because I knew he was a reader and while I really wanted to mention certain things, I knew they were too private to mention and the things that weren’t may have hurt his feelings. I never knew whether Louie read, and I doubt it, but I censored myself there too.

I don’t complain about work, knowing that it could get me fired. Hell, I won’t even mention what company I work for even though I generally give enough hints that it can be discovered (ahem. Buzz.). But even that last place, the one I hated, was safe from my complaints on the internet. I’m sure they read what I was up to. It was that kind of company.

But certain things, well, this blog would not be the same without them. Crushes on coworkers and such. General silliness and my adventures in internet dating. Tidbits about my relationships and the heartbreaks when they end. I have been accustomed to telling these stories. Used to being able to discuss with whomever might stumble upon me details that do get shared with the people in my life, but for some reason I need to share with strangers. Even if it embarrasses me later.

I’ll be hiding under my desk if anyone needs me. I have to admit though, that’s what I get for forgetting that I’m not in Jr High anymore even though socially, I haven’t quite matured that far.