Words Get In the Way—

So today I read Lucy’s blog, , and it always surprises me how in-synch we can be. She wrote this big long entry about what she believes a blog is meant and not meant to be. It made me laugh because it just shows how we always seem to be on the corner of the same thought. It made me take pause and think about all the things I haven’t written about and all the things I have held back on. More often than not this is due to my audience—the handful of important people in my life who take the trouble to want to know where my head is and how I am feeling. And this is exactly the reason I don’t write about certain things, certain people or thoughts. Because I don’t want to offend people with what I am thinking—not just about them but sometimes about myself and my life. That there are things I think and feel that I don’t want pushed back in my face. It’s about responsibility. And it got me to thinking about that word—responsibility. In a sense it is to take ownership for one’s actions or in this case words. To be held accountable for my thoughts on this page regardless of where this page goes. But I am beginning to think that this is the wrong way to look at it. The truest responsibility I have here in my blog is not to my readers, my friends, or family who read this page, this entry or yesterday’s or tomorrow’s. It is not to be kind or socially acceptable, flattering or even fair. My responsibility here is to be honest—about what I am thinking, feeling, seeing and doing. I write this alone and for no one else but my self. I write about the things I enjoy but also about the things that annoy. I take what is flying about in my head and just set it down to words—there may be grammar and structure but at the end of the day—it is just emotion and feelings being placed somewhere outside of myself. It isn’t meant to be anything more than a place where I spill. This is not an e-mail or phone call, a letter or cocktail conversation—there are things that go here that I don’t need to talk about or become gossip items to be cut and pasted. It is just a moment of time in my life set to words for whatever reasons move me. It is not about you or you or even you. I guess the reason I am writing is that I have no idea who reads this sometimes. I do worry that all this honesty can get me in trouble, that what emotions I have as I type can become reasons or facts to be held against me at a later point. And if that is why you read me—then don’t. And for you that read for just simple pleasure or curiosity then fine. Come in