I just googled myself.
Okay, I really just used Yahoo, but googled sounds so much cooler.
The most ironic thing about my blog is that the people who would most love to read it probably can't find it. And that is on purpose.
Doing a brief search for myself, I could tell by the Yahoo suggestions that someone is trying to find my old website--or anything connected to me that I may be writing. Why? Well, the person who is (probably) looking has been unable to be part of my life. I should use the word banished because that, too, sounds cooler. Okay. He was banished from my life and the life of my family.
I started a website back in 1995. It was the rudimentary prototype of today's blog. I played around with the html. I wrote various thoughts for years. I let people--anyone who found the site or knew the address--to get a glimpse into my thoughts and feelings. And that was my error. I wrote something very personal and the wrong person read it, exploited it, and the hassle of it caused me to delete the whole thing.
Now I won't do that. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because I don't want the drama. Maybe it's both.
But the truth of it is that I don't want the banished to find out anything about my life. Living vicariously through my blog is what he is trying to do. Perhaps he's looking for photos of my daughter. Perhaps he's just obsessed with the possibility that I'll say something--anything--about him. Whatever the case, he's not getting anything from me. Sorry, you're banished.
Not you. You're welcome to read on.
June 02, 2010
October 21, 2009
Oblivion
Hello?
Anybody there?
Remember me?
I hardly remember how to do this. After a really long break, I have emerged. I stumbled upon a blog (well, it was more like looking up old friends and following links to other people) hosted by none other than blogger that reminded me that, I too, have a blog. It's usually the times when I read others' words that I long to write words of my own. Words. There. I did it.
As usual, things are very different than the last time I wrote. For the better, I must say, although at this point in my life I am wondering why I feel a need to tell anyone about my life. I mean, in a public way such as a blog. I guess it's the young kid in me who wanted to be a star. Aren't we all writers on the internet? Don't we have ourselves fooled into believing that people care about our lives? And then there's actually the ones who do care about what they read. They're the ones to whom I don't want to provide any information. That's the funny thing. The ones that care are the ones I don't want to know anything.
Doing a search for a person yields such odd results sometimes. The ones I search for are the ones I don't really want to find. It's hard to explain. I usually try to find out information on a person, but I don't actually want to know anything. I guess it's my own private way to torture myself. I'm looking up the people who have hurt me the most, just so I could simmer in my own juices at their little successes or to notice how different our lives have become.
Oddly, the people that I could list as the closest friends in my life are an obvious void from my friend lists now. One of my first friends, a friend in high school who I will refer to as "J" has been the hardest for me to get over. Our friendship was important to me. I thought she thought the world of me, until she just dropped me. I'm not sure what happened and that's probably what makes it the most difficult to accept. Most of the other friends--or so-called friends, as it turned out--I could explain away through faults of my own. But J was different. I thought we'd be friends forever, and that's not something I usually think. Since I'm young I have realized that most friends are more of a convenience than anything. They share something in common with you and your lives are similiar. It's difficult to be friends when your lives are different.
So I searched for J and found her friend online...the one who's blog inspired me to write this bumbling post. Will I write again soon? Who knows. Maybe. Until then, I'll send this out to the oblivion of the internet and imagine someone else stumbling upon it.
Anybody there?
Remember me?
I hardly remember how to do this. After a really long break, I have emerged. I stumbled upon a blog (well, it was more like looking up old friends and following links to other people) hosted by none other than blogger that reminded me that, I too, have a blog. It's usually the times when I read others' words that I long to write words of my own. Words. There. I did it.
As usual, things are very different than the last time I wrote. For the better, I must say, although at this point in my life I am wondering why I feel a need to tell anyone about my life. I mean, in a public way such as a blog. I guess it's the young kid in me who wanted to be a star. Aren't we all writers on the internet? Don't we have ourselves fooled into believing that people care about our lives? And then there's actually the ones who do care about what they read. They're the ones to whom I don't want to provide any information. That's the funny thing. The ones that care are the ones I don't want to know anything.
Doing a search for a person yields such odd results sometimes. The ones I search for are the ones I don't really want to find. It's hard to explain. I usually try to find out information on a person, but I don't actually want to know anything. I guess it's my own private way to torture myself. I'm looking up the people who have hurt me the most, just so I could simmer in my own juices at their little successes or to notice how different our lives have become.
Oddly, the people that I could list as the closest friends in my life are an obvious void from my friend lists now. One of my first friends, a friend in high school who I will refer to as "J" has been the hardest for me to get over. Our friendship was important to me. I thought she thought the world of me, until she just dropped me. I'm not sure what happened and that's probably what makes it the most difficult to accept. Most of the other friends--or so-called friends, as it turned out--I could explain away through faults of my own. But J was different. I thought we'd be friends forever, and that's not something I usually think. Since I'm young I have realized that most friends are more of a convenience than anything. They share something in common with you and your lives are similiar. It's difficult to be friends when your lives are different.
So I searched for J and found her friend online...the one who's blog inspired me to write this bumbling post. Will I write again soon? Who knows. Maybe. Until then, I'll send this out to the oblivion of the internet and imagine someone else stumbling upon it.
January 24, 2009
A Sad Post for a Sad Friend
Like so many other times in my life, I have received some terrible news and have turned to my oldest friend--the written word. Writing is the first thing I want to do when my mind swims with the confusing and unsettling thoughts of the world. This time a friend of mine is going through an extremely terrible situation and it reminds me of a similiar time in my life. It is not a chapter of my life that I want to revisit and I'm frustrated that I can relate to such devestation.
Suddenly anything that I might have thought was dragging me down or turning my blue skies to gray lately is put harshly in perspective. I realize that things are good with me. Very good. I feel a little too fortunate and I feel like an ass for wanting what seemed to be someone else's good thing.
My friend is dealing with a birth defect that will result in the loss of her baby. I know that feeling, but I won't pretend to know what she's going through. Everything that has happened to someone else could happen to you or to me. It's all been done before. But when something happens to us that is traumatic and terrifying, it is only happening to us. There's no words that can comfort. There's no comfort in knowing that someone else went through it. And there's certainly no way to convince yourself that someone else knows the pain you feel. Therin lies the horrible pit in my stomach because I know that the pain my friend is feeling will not be easily remedied. She feels alone and unique in this world. It's as if all the earth's population has disappeared and you stand on life's stage with a bright spotlight hiding any clear view. I know how she feels and I hurt because of it.
I recently found out that I was pregnant. On a Friday, I was pregnant. A week later, no longer. Such is life. Somehow the pain isn't as great when you have experienced it before or when you could put it in perspective. I can easily feel like a spontaneous abortion like that is a true gift when I hear of my friend's hardship. I remember sitting alone in the middle of the night, rocking myself back and forth and crying silently as to not wake my husband, damning my own body. In the bright moonlight I wished I could just run away and leave my whole self behind. And because of my own past, I realize that my body is on my side now. My body has given me a beautiful daughter once before and may again, but I hope that she helps me so that I don't have to feel the pain I've felt in the past...the same kind of pain my friend feels.
So tonight my thoughts are with my friend, yet I wish my mind would wander.
Suddenly anything that I might have thought was dragging me down or turning my blue skies to gray lately is put harshly in perspective. I realize that things are good with me. Very good. I feel a little too fortunate and I feel like an ass for wanting what seemed to be someone else's good thing.
My friend is dealing with a birth defect that will result in the loss of her baby. I know that feeling, but I won't pretend to know what she's going through. Everything that has happened to someone else could happen to you or to me. It's all been done before. But when something happens to us that is traumatic and terrifying, it is only happening to us. There's no words that can comfort. There's no comfort in knowing that someone else went through it. And there's certainly no way to convince yourself that someone else knows the pain you feel. Therin lies the horrible pit in my stomach because I know that the pain my friend is feeling will not be easily remedied. She feels alone and unique in this world. It's as if all the earth's population has disappeared and you stand on life's stage with a bright spotlight hiding any clear view. I know how she feels and I hurt because of it.
I recently found out that I was pregnant. On a Friday, I was pregnant. A week later, no longer. Such is life. Somehow the pain isn't as great when you have experienced it before or when you could put it in perspective. I can easily feel like a spontaneous abortion like that is a true gift when I hear of my friend's hardship. I remember sitting alone in the middle of the night, rocking myself back and forth and crying silently as to not wake my husband, damning my own body. In the bright moonlight I wished I could just run away and leave my whole self behind. And because of my own past, I realize that my body is on my side now. My body has given me a beautiful daughter once before and may again, but I hope that she helps me so that I don't have to feel the pain I've felt in the past...the same kind of pain my friend feels.
So tonight my thoughts are with my friend, yet I wish my mind would wander.
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