The Bitch Is Back

A little over a year ago, I hopped in line with so many others in this increasingly cyber oriented world, and started a blog.

I've had a "blog" of sorts my entire life. We used to call it a diary, or a journal, or a book of thoughts. I wonder how long it will be before a journal composed of paper and pen is as foreign a concept as the old time ice-box that used actual ice to keep things cold, as opposed to the appliance we now use to make the ice itself.

But I digress.

I'm not entirely sure why it is that I started my online journal. Although I suppose that the purpose of any diary is not just so that those thoughts no longer plague ones waking hours, but the idea that you - your life - won't get lost. That somehow, in some small measure, that we will live on through our words and our lives will not have passed in complete obscurity. Which is the appeal of the blog as opposed to paper and pen. Once it's out there, it can never be totally erased and unlike paper and pen, it can't be burned, or crumpled or eventually turn to dust. The internet brought us - or our words at any rate - as close to immortality as we can hope to get.

There were blogs that I had been stalking for months, that inspired me to commit my own ideas to binary code. Blogs where I posted a comment here and there and before long my stalkees had begun to stalk me in return. The give and take of being by turn exhibitionist and voyeur, seems to be an almost irresistible lure for some of us. And somehow, the anonymity created an intimacy and immediacy that was as seductive as a sirens call.

It was an iddyIic affair until my husband of one short year, found my blog. And in one quick swipe of the mouse, both my marriage and my blog died a quick, although not entirely painless, death.

Somehow, while there was nothing - or very little - in my online journal about him that I hadn't said directly TO him, he found the act of my putting my thoughts out into the world for perfect strangers to see, unforgivable. An act of treason, if you will, against our marriage.

Not that it had been that good of a marriage to begin with. I suppose that I should be ashamed to admit this, but it was a marriage of convenience. For me anyway. I had hoped that loving without being IN Love would be enough. I was wrong.

So the marriage that probably never had a chance to begin with, ended with even less fanfare than the Las Vegas ceremony that had started it.

In one vain attempt to make amends for the heineous crimes that I had committed against him by publicially blogging my life, I wrote an apology and pulled the offending entries. Suffice to say, his decision had been made and there was very little, if anything, that I could have done that would have swayed him. And as I was unwilling to spend the rest of my life as a martyr to his anger, I quickly gave up the idea that I might be able to salvage my marriage through any act of contrition.

I moved to another city. Began trying to put the pieces together of a life that truth be told, had been torn apart long before my esteemed husband had turned up on the scene. Started this entirely new blog. Stealthily let my stalkers know, where I could be found.

I declared to the world that I had learned my lesson! When blog world and real world collide, disasters can happen. I was entering the age of a kinder and gentler blog. I wouldn't commit to words the thoughts and ideas that might hurt the people in my life if they came across them! I had grown and learned from my mistakes!

HA!

Sadly, the sterlized words seemed pointless to me. The whole purpose of a journal for me is a purging. A forum where I can say what is sometimes left unsaid in daily life. That trying to edit my life made the whole effort meaningless and simply didn't supply the outlet that I seem to need.

So I'm back . . . again. Apparently none the wiser!

I know that there will always be the possiblity of my blog world and my daily world colliding. But I guess that I'm just willing to take that chance. I always have lived a life that seems to wander perilously close to the edge . . .

Welcome to my unedited life.