Locked and loaded

Someone wrote me and asked, “So are you updating this thing or not?!”.

I, um, decided to go on sabbatical. I found myself, somewhere along the way, going through my days, thinking of how I would narrate everything, put our adventures into words; what witty things I’d sprinkle in. I found myself a bit detached, like a third party looking in, when really I should be doing the living and hiking and painting of it all. It makes for good stories, but I want to enjoy what I have in the first-person and truly be the hero of my own story.

Another thing that happened is harder to explain. I understand that blogs and photos are all the heck open to the whole wide Internet. Even knowing that, I was surprised to realize is how unsettled I felt to think about the unkind people in my life, reading my words, peering into our lives, coming along with us on our vacations.

‘Unkind’?
Yes. Unkind in ways that has someone excitedly say how damn good it is to hear that my relationship (at the time) sucked, because she was sick and tired of getting my Christmas cards and reading how lovely and hunkydory my life was in the Valley, and how good it was to hear that I’m actually horribly miserable like the rest of everyone else.

Yeah. I went, “Heh?”

Unkind in ways like a person gets invited to my (newly single again) 40th birthday party - - a small, quiet party with people I treasure - - and bellows, “Are there going to be any HOT chicks here?!”

Yeah, seriously.

Unkind in those kinds of ways. Not in ways like they lurk and don’t comment. That’s okay. That’s just being introverted. I know what that’s like.

Sure, once you press 'Publish', it’s all out there. It’s a strange thing to be talking to someone and then to realize that they know way more about you than you know about them (in that creepy sort of way), and you think, "Wow, it really is just all out there". I started to feel these people peering in from the outside, their eyes following me left and right, their warm breath fogging up the windows outside my house, watching my life for entertainment, but not cheering any of my adventures or any of the many, small, hard-fought victories. I’d be reminded of them every now and again, in real life: “Oh, hello”.

It was like you finally decide to clean your windows, then find smudged nose prints all over the place, at a height that you know you couldn’t have made yourself. It’s kind of a creepy, unclean feeling.

[I suppose it’s also like realizing that those racy pictures from your Las Vegas trip that you posted on Facebook are searchable by people at places you’re trying to get a job at, but not quite.
This is what I hear, at least.]

You’re going, “Oh, man! Those people SO do not matter!”.

Yeah, yeah.

So I’ve been working, you see, on loading up my rifle and scaring away the unkind people, cleaning my windows of the reminders of their grubby fingers and noses. I’ve come to a place, finally, where I’ve missed you more than I’m upset about being followed around by ghosts of unkind people.

I’ve missed my bloggy buddies, new and old.

You know the secret knock to get in. Don’t mind the Big Bear. And if you feel like it, yes, please do bring along your weapon of choice. xox