The conversation subject was so innocuous that I can’t even remember it. But I was out to lunch with my parents, so it led to a spat. All parents have the superability to send their grown children into childish fits of anger. My only memory of the argument was my dad’s request.
“Just don’t put me in your blog, please.”
I laughed it off. During my summer visit home my posts had been primarily focused on my quirky family and the aggravations they sometimes elicit.
Then my mom shared a post on Facebook, commenting that she was once again the foil and that she should be more careful in our conversations. Still, as I am wont to react Homer Simpson slowly to things, the realization was not immediate.
That realization came in a departmental meeting with the boss a week ago. She looked across the table during a particularly tense moment and said, “Dame, this doesn’t go in the blog, right?”
It dawned on me. People are afraid of the blog.
Nobody really takes a blog too seriously. It’s just a blog, after all; everyone’s got one. My friend’s cousin has a blog about macramé; another guy has a blog on bookbinding. I have recently found blogs on Cthulhu, Australian travel, and I have long followed a blog on strange history. So, why would people worry? There is nothing to fear from a simple blog, they are just out there for some weirdos to write about squid monsters, giant red rocks, and mermaids in the 1600s. Or sweater vests and strange cats.
Furthermore, it seems pretty common that many blogs die young. There are three or four posts in the first month, then once every month, then once every four months, then a post every sixteen months. These posts are interspersed with one-sentence apologies by the blogger about being busy. This has always seemed silly to me, since if they had a moment to write an apology, why wouldn’t they have time to write a short post?
This blog often tells a funny story, and I understand that if you are a character in that funny story then it might make you uncomfortable. This is probably because you are not in control. It’s my skewed as hell point of view and I am – often – an unfair prick. But that’s where the fun comes in. Well, for me anyway.
If you are a character in a post, you are referred to as a letter: T, L, M, K, Z. I figure if you already suffer the humiliation of being seen with me in public, you should be spared written proof. This excludes those select few who have foolishly become a close friend, your names appear in my blog despite all backlash, whether familial, social, or political. Students and enemies are seldom named, but if so you get a pseudonym to protect your innocence. If you are my cat, then you are the B Monster.
Despite my assurances of anonymity and the Blogger’s Oath of Secrecy* some people speak as formally as they would their girlfriend’s weapon-polishing father. Others nod, smile, and refuse to engage me in conversation. Of course, this could be less to do with the blog and more to do with my personality and overall hygiene.
People, please don’t be afraid of the big bad blog. I’m probably not going to write about you.
That is, unless you really piss me off.
*Does not exist. Truth be told, if it did exist, it would be void after two whiskeys or one difficult hour of writing.
#1 by Kelly on October 7, 2013 - 5:04 pm
I know this too well. I often think I’m hilarious but recently there have been a string of incidents where members of my family did not find me so. Currently my 82 year old grandmother is not speaking to me after misinterpreting some slang she felt was directed at her and my father just revealed to me that a post I included him in a year ago made him physically I’ll for days. Some people don’t quite understand how this whole Internet thing works. My father thought that if someone wanted to know about him thirty years from now and they googled him this thing I wrote on my blog would pop up and make him look like an idiot. First of all, I never intended to make him look stupid but I guess that’s how he perceived it and second, I would love to think that my the reach of my content would span thirty years but chances are that won’t happen. People are so carefull around me now and I always think that’s silly because I try to be very thoughtful about how I present anyone in my posts but I suppose at te end of the day it’s me who’s chosen to live so openly online, not them. I’ve learned to be more cautious about how I talk about my friends and family but for someone who is such an open book, I find it hard to relate to the idea that anyone would mind me discussing the awful Christmas card they bought their wife. Nonetheless, I am nixed from viewing family Christmas card at the holidays now.
#2 by Damien Galeone on October 9, 2013 - 2:57 pm
Holy Crap, YES! I totally understand. My dad yelled at me one day after I put in a post that his one discourse marker is ‘What did you eat today?’ but it’s true, and we are writing about our lives, are we not?
You know that in a few years it’ll just be you and me looking across a table thinking, ‘Did (s)he write that about me?!’