One of the supposed advantages of being an anonymous blogger is that one can write what one bloody well wants without the usual social constraints. To greater or lesser degree when we discuss stuff face-to-face we will often hold back for fear of breaking the rules of etiquette or upsetting our conversation partner. The beauty of the blog is that when nobody knows who were are we can’t possibly be upsetting anyone we hold dear.
I tend not to go around trying to upset people. Although I usually only write posts when my blood is boiling, randomly clicking through my archives reveals that my blog is pretty tame stuff. I am hardly a Guido or an Old Holborn. As some of you know, I used to write under my “real” name. I recently stumbled upon a web archive of my old blog. Not much survives but what does makes me wonder why I was so convinced that I must go “underground”. The old site was fairly banal, to be honest. I am not sure how anyone could “use” that writing against me. Have I become more forthright by hiding behind the veneer of anonymity? Possibly. Possibly not.
As far as I know, nobody from here has bothered to work out my name. Given that I am not (yet) world famous in my own right what would that information give them? I don’t really write about work, so could my employers have a problem? Although I give away quite a lot of personal stuff on here is there anything that could link this to my name? It’s possible I suppose. Perhaps someone who knows me offline could make a stab at guessing that this is my blog. Apparently style is quite easy to analyse.
Having said all that, a good number of people I know in real life read my blog. Several of my closest allies are regular readers. I have got over any ridiculous panic about them reading my political stuff, but I keep forgetting about more personal things. When I type I don’t feel like I am writing to my readers, I am telling the computer my secrets. Computers don’t gossip, right? Blogging is shouting into an empty room. Forgive me WordPress for I have sinned, it is forty-eight hours since my last post.
There is a tiny weeny obvious problem here. I can jot something down during an unforgiving minute which is then circulated to people who I like in real life, or more importantly to people who like me in real life. Perhaps the lights are turned down and I have disguised my accent but the room is very much not empty. I might only hold that view for that dark minute and by the time it pings up on Reader it will be yesterday’s news. The expression in writing might not be an accurate reflection of what I am trying to say, that being the way things go. But there it is in black-and-white for people to see.
They say a problem shared is a problem halved (how does that work when 90 people see a post?), but some things we should really keep to ourselves. There is a fine line between using the blog as catharsis and people coming to the conclusion that I might be a total fruitcake.
“I might only hold that view for that dark minute and by the time it pings up on Reader it will be yesterday’s news. “
Measure twice, cut once. Works for blogs, too..
Sounds about right, Julia. My problem is that I tend to publish and then be damned!
We need a world safe for fruitcakes.
I reckon I’ve got you sussed, but you’re secret’s safe here
Totally can relate to the paranoia about who is reading the blog. I gave the link to one of my mates in the same line of works as me and told him not to let on – he said “Steve, I really don’t think anyone’s interested in reading your blog mate!” Then burst out laughing at me.
My stat counter would suggest he’s right, all my recent traffic were looking for “japanese porno”.
In my case a problem shared is often a problem doubled.
Steven – if you can’t remember who I am then you have “issues”! I read your blog.
Thud – certainly seems that way, sometimes.
I thought you were Belle de Jour.
Forgive me WordPress for I have sinned, it is forty-eight hours since my last post
Ah! A clue! A Catholic upbringing?? We’re closing in….
(only joking…)
I have had some of the best conversations and friendships with fruitcakes (and Dundee cakes and several carrot cakes). Its the allegedly sane and respectable or outwardly normal that have always let me down.
Your reasoning is very valid, but that’s why I stick to politics on my blog rather than straying into the personal, because catharsis is always needed when it comes to my political rantings!
MB – amazing story that, isn’t it!
Patently – not a Catholic but I love the idea of Confession and also of the local priest knowing everyone’s dirty secrets!!
Letters – sensible. I seem to have got a bit carried away with the personal stuff lately…
Hogday – with a nice cup of tea, I hope?
Gosh, I cannot condone the death hacking of a gorgeous fruitcake unless I am an accessory after the fact, Blue. A wodge of such fine proportions demands at least one full pot of tea, s’il vous plait.
MTG – you can keep the fruit cake, I can’t stand it – too dry. I could drink tea all day, in fact I do most days!
Oh what a good post. I agreed with every word and if that post was set to music you’d be killing me softly with your song, well, not killing me but you know what I mean. Spot on!
And I believe you do know what I mean which is balm for the soul. I also rant or vent or highlight some atrocity in society or post a wish list or share something fab because no-one in my closest geography understand WTF I’m going on about and if they do they aren’t interested as they will be missing Corrie.
I can jot something down during an unforgiving minute which is then circulated to people who I like in real life, or more importantly to people who like me in real life. Perhaps the lights are turned down and I have disguised my accent but the room is very much not empty. I might only hold that view for that dark minute and by the time it pings up on Reader it will be yesterday’s news. The expression in writing might not be an accurate reflection of what I am trying to say, that being the way things go. But there it is in black-and-white for people to see.
The only exception to that is that I’m never sure from one day to the next that anyone likes me. I like them but I try to stave off disappointment. I find that helps when I refuse to jump through hoops. I know me, I like me and I really hope you do too. But it’s a hope not an expectation. I’ve been wrong before. And life is always that much warmer and the sun brighter when I’m reminded I am liked
Oh, and I’ve been threatened again recently. Apparently adopting a pseudonym is a malicious falsehood (even if you tell someone who you really are, which I don’t quite understand). So I am herewith saving you, Lesley, when I tell your readers that you are in fact a 6’1″ blonde who is always impeccably dressed. Bytheway did Idle ask for that photo or is it a promotional one you give to everyone??
If only, P. I would be a whole lot more popular as a 6ft1 blonde bombshell!