You're just like me.
I read someone's blog today. Some of you probably do that every day, but I do so rarely. It's not because of some philosophy or plan; it's just not something I usually do. Just like I don't usually post here.
And what I read made me think about how much our writing reveals about us: you and me who is just like you. I'm not talking about what we intend to say. That is a small though noisy part of our communications. But, like a criminal, our intended acts are accompanied by those clues which, despite meticulous planning, get us caught.
I named my blog "missspelled" as a joke, because every other name I requested had already been taken. Now I go back and find my previous posts were full of unnoticed misspellings. I just edited them and fixed them so you can't see this for yourself. Spelling is part rules and part convention. My spelling problems betray both my discomfort with rules and my difficulties with convention. All of this takes us back to the "just like me" theme with which you might have noticed I'm a bit obsessed. I try and fit in, but I don't get the conventions right, and I resent having to fit in too. Who knew this was all so transparent in what I had written? Well, now I do and so do you (who is just like me, not in every respect, but ultimately in those which really matter).
And this is just what I see upon returning to my blog nearly a year later, something I was only prompted to do because I read someone's blog today.
This person (I won't link to her for various reasons which, may or may not be obvious) complained about her impulsive spending, a habit over which she was trying and so far failing to exert control, and I had to laugh because I came to the blog in the first place because of another lack of control on her part. It seems she has been obsessively leaving phone messages on the machine of "a friend." In her messages, she says she's trying to stop leaving the messages, but needs his help, which would consist, she claims, in his calling her back. But he doesn't want to call her back. They'd broken up some months ago, but she can't seem to let go.
And a few days earlier, she posts a quote containing the phrase, "the more one has, the more one wants, since satisfactions received only stimulate instead of filling needs." He knows this--it's why he won't call her back. She knows it too, and yet . . .
And what I read made me think about how much our writing reveals about us: you and me who is just like you. I'm not talking about what we intend to say. That is a small though noisy part of our communications. But, like a criminal, our intended acts are accompanied by those clues which, despite meticulous planning, get us caught.
I named my blog "missspelled" as a joke, because every other name I requested had already been taken. Now I go back and find my previous posts were full of unnoticed misspellings. I just edited them and fixed them so you can't see this for yourself. Spelling is part rules and part convention. My spelling problems betray both my discomfort with rules and my difficulties with convention. All of this takes us back to the "just like me" theme with which you might have noticed I'm a bit obsessed. I try and fit in, but I don't get the conventions right, and I resent having to fit in too. Who knew this was all so transparent in what I had written? Well, now I do and so do you (who is just like me, not in every respect, but ultimately in those which really matter).
And this is just what I see upon returning to my blog nearly a year later, something I was only prompted to do because I read someone's blog today.
This person (I won't link to her for various reasons which, may or may not be obvious) complained about her impulsive spending, a habit over which she was trying and so far failing to exert control, and I had to laugh because I came to the blog in the first place because of another lack of control on her part. It seems she has been obsessively leaving phone messages on the machine of "a friend." In her messages, she says she's trying to stop leaving the messages, but needs his help, which would consist, she claims, in his calling her back. But he doesn't want to call her back. They'd broken up some months ago, but she can't seem to let go.
And a few days earlier, she posts a quote containing the phrase, "the more one has, the more one wants, since satisfactions received only stimulate instead of filling needs." He knows this--it's why he won't call her back. She knows it too, and yet . . .
In another post, she observes that, "Love is not found via fantasy." The reality is that he doesn't want to call her back. And yet . . .
There's certainly a theme here, don't you think? I wonder if she can make these connections.
posted by jim at 5:51 AM
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