My name is Michelle and I am putting snippets of my life on the Internet. I don’t expect everyone who reads what I write or sees the silly GIFs I post to love me. But I would be lying if I wasn’t looking for some unit of approval from you. And in this searching, which can manifest as desperation in my lower times, I often wonder if I should be more “bold” in sharing my personal life – bare it all and speak my mind with absolute freedom.
However, I’ve made my identity more or less public. I’ve put not only my face but my partner’s face on this blog, as well. I use my real first name and his real moniker. It wouldn’t take much to find out who I really am, where I work, or where I live. This is the Age of Information – the “TMI Age,” as we like to call it – where everything from learning how to knit to Spock-Snape-Dr. Who slash fiction is just a Google search away.
So with this in mind, how wise is it to talk deeply about my personal life? And I’m talking about more than spouting my “Feel the Bern” political views and my tiny tantrums of existential angst pondering the inevitable heat death of the universe. I’m talking about the nitty-gritty, HBO stuff – how much do I want to share about my personal relationships? That’s where the juicy bits lie. From the open and vulnerable to the dramatic and sensational, people [myself most definitely included] love hearing about relationship. Romantic, historic, modern, sexy – all the categories of human relationship produce mass followings from avid readers. I want to share my relationships with you, faithful (or unfaithful) readers. I want to explore what it means to be in relationship without the restraint of a puritanical-based moral system.
But I can’t have everyone know. We’ve all read and heard of sustained humiliation and lives being ruined from sloppy oversharing. This is information I would be uncomfortable having co-workers read. I’d even blush to have friends and acquaintances read about my theories and practices regarding relationships. And Flying Spaghetti Monster forbid parents, grandparents, or any other family members ever laid eyes on such activity. I can’t even decide how much to fucking swear on this site.
So what is a gal with a desire to express herself to strangers in 2015 to do? How do I strive to be authentic in a medium, when I’m still held captive by fear? I love reading people’s blogs that go into raw detail about their lives. Reading those narratives and experiences makes me feel un-alone in my carnal and philosophical depravities. I envy their expressiveness. [I’ve posted some of these people’s blogs here and here]. And, as I said in the beginning, I have a craving to be validated. The Internet is a cesspool, but it’s pretty freaking glorious, as well. It has brought millions of people together who otherwise wouldn’t have.
To hell with excuses – I shall sally forth, my noble steed Moose by my side! This will likely be something I’ll mull over for quite some time. Slowly and surely, I will be delving more and more into my personal life and sharing my findings and experiences with you lovelies. Bear with me as I test the open waters of vulnerability, while trying to entertain and discover value in this untested vessel of a writing voice, as well.
So thanks for reading this far and I look forward to joining in your humanity in intimate and – hopefully – hilarious ways.
Michelle and Moose