Into every blog must fall an entry on privacy, or having your blog found and/or read by the wrong people, and other such related subjects.

It’s a discussion I’ve had many times over with Ben, and sometimes when I hear my friends bemoan who has found their blog/journal and talk about how upset they are about it… I think, “Well, you *did* write it online….” Which is precisely why I just don’t care.

Sure, there are things I’ve written that I would prefer certain people not read, but in the end? I don’t care. I said it, I’ll own up to it, and it was how I felt at the time. It’s something that some people don’t realize – sure, that last entry may sound like I’m suicidally depressed and ready to just climb into the bathtub with a razor…but that was then, that’s not in my character, and writing is a catharsis.

I write about how frustrated I am with people in order to avoid snapping at them. I write about fights I have with people in order to determine whether I was in the right or being incredibly bitchy about it. I write about … well, my day so that you all can read it. It’s a tool for many of my friends to keep in touch with what’s going on with me when they don’t talk to me daily, and I know that some of the people closest to me merely skim it, so… Hell, I don’t even assume that anyone reads my journal the way I tend to read others – daily or even more frequently, and usually pretty carefully.

I have respected people’s privacies on here in ways they will never know; I hold many secrets and many things in my head, and in a lot of ways, I hate it. That’s why I started this site, in a way – in order that I might be able to article those secrets in a secure forum and get my release that way. I deal with most problems by talking about them, either to a journal or to friends, and this blog represented the best of both worlds. Due to the audience that reads it, as I’ve acknowledged many a time, that isn’t always the case.

There are things I know about you and you and you … that even though I suspect or know you’ve fucked me over, I’ve kept to myself. I think that speaks strongly about my character – I believed you when you told me things, and I kept those things to myself. I trusted you with secrets of mine, and I trusted you with other things… and as far as I can gather, you fucked me. Your own paranoia has hurt you more than I ever would have or even would have wanted to, and I’m sorry about that. Stupid me, I’m still keeping those things to myself.

That all said and done, I long ago resigned myself to the fact that people I would prefer not read my site might actually do so, either through finding it themselves or having it found for them. To clarify: I honestly, truly and completely don’t care. If it was done by someone to hurt me, well… frankly, I’m just laughing. I’m saddened by the fact that you felt the need to do such an action, but … well, you didn’t exactly pick the best route to do it. Sorry. :)

What am I hinting at? Well, ladies and gentlemen, those of you that read this blog may be familiar with “the coworker”? He now has the link to my site – actually, according to the email I found, it appears he’s had it for awhile.. I’d like to welcome him to the depths of my mind – the kitty litter of my mind, if you will – and hope he enjoys his stay. If not… well, I can only hope he improves those things that cause me to vent. ;)

On a happier note, Digger is currently dumpster-diving in my garbage can. He’s hilarious – and he just knocked over the can. I think he’s going after the fish food that got spilled in there – he gets very excited when he can smell it on my fingers. Hrm. Or he’s just being a brat – he just knocked it over again. I think his caffeine levels are low – he’s going after the empty cans of Coke. What a weirdo. :)

It’s been an emotionally stressful weekend, although I never would have thought it would turn out that way. (Side note: third time he’s knocked it over. I haven’t reset it, and now he’s left it alone. I think I figured it out). Sometimes I wish I could just be completely open about everything, but I’m protecting my friends. It’s weird… I don’t feel any regrets about it, I know it was the right thing to do, and in the same situation, I’d do it again and again and again, but I can’t talk about it because it would upset my friends. It’s kinda like how I felt after I started having sex – I didn’t want to tell some of my friends so that I could protect them, so they wouldn’t look at me differently. Well, that sure changed – but it took many years to do so.

I’m finding it’s easier every time I tell someone, but at the same time, I think it’s because I’m telling people that I trust will react okay to it, that won’t judge me out loud, or stop being my friend or something because of it. Anyhow… shared with Moose last night, and got some serious squeezing out of it, which was really nice. I could use some of that now, actually. :P

So much is weighing on my mind, and yet not. I gave Jay a little bit of it to take apart and discuss, and he gave me other things to stress about. What a friend. ;) No matter… some things I think he may have just been saying in order to be a poo, other things deserve a bit more consideration, but maybe at a more decent/acceptable hour, when I can do things like actually think.

I worried that I might’ve said the wrong thing at the wrong time, but I spoke to someone and got it cleared up. It’s still not up to me to discuss, and it won’t be – and I feel I said too much already – but it’s slightly in the open and at least resolved between me and one person. Unless that person is lying when I am told “no worries,” but… I choose to believe not.

I’m learning that trying to help things out is not ever going to work for me. Trying to help people resolve things… it’s not up to me to fix other people’s problems, as much as I wish I could help them out. I tried at one point, and it turned around and took a chomp out of my ass – which I appreciate, I could stand to lose a bit out of there – but at the same time, getting burned is never nice. There are other issues to do with privacy and blogs and one thing and another, but… argh. I just wish that everyone could confront one another when there was a problem. Lord knows I’ve dealt with confrontations enough in my life.

Those dreaded little words: “Can I talk to you for a minute?” They rarely seem to offer up anything good. Variations on a theme: “Can we talk?”; “I need to talk to you about something.”; “There’s something on my mind, and it concerns you/us.”

To anyone I have linked on my site – if you would rather I didn’t, please say so. I find most people are quite reasonable with requests of the sort – I’ve asked people to remove my last name or various other personal details from their sites, and I have never had a problem with making or receiving the same requests. I have all the sites bookmarked on my own computer, so it’s not as if having it on my site online is going to make a difference in my reading of your works.

Anyhow, this is being much more stream-of-consciousness than I had planned, and so it’s hardly articulate. It’s also gone past 2:30 in the morning, so it’s long past time for me to go to bed. I have to clean up the garbage that Digger dumped on, find the giant tinfoil ball he’s hidden under my desk chair, avoid running him over with the same… and still clean off my bed and go to sleep. So much effort… maybe I can just sleep sitting up in the chair, typing steadily away all night.

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