Don’t get excited. I’m not spilling any secrets in this post. Which is an ironic statement in light of what follows.
I’m not a secretive person. Really, I’m not. I’m not necessarily a very open person, per se, but I’m not secretive. As in, I don’t think I actually have any secrets that at least one person doesn’t know. And I’m not opposed to people knowing the details of my life. I just need them to be in a place where it would make sense for them to know. I feel as if that is wise, not secretive. Right?
I’ve also realized that I’m pretty open about things in general on my blog. Way more so than in real life. That is an interesting disconnect. I keep this blog somewhat anonymous. It’s linked from my facebook and twitter, but there are no links going back to them. And my name, other than first name, is nowhere here, neither are there any photos of me or personal details, such as where I live. So if you know me, you know this is my blog. But if you don’t know me, then you have no idea who I am in real life.
That must make me feel safer? Which is an unfortunate thing, considering my views on community (which I’m not sure I’ve actually posted about here).
This whole thought process was brought on by myself telling a group of friends (some older, some newer) a so-called secret the other night. I was disinclined at first to say anything, but then I thought it through, decided it’s not such a secret in my life and that the group I was with was probably safe enough. But the ‘secret’ probably wasn’t worth the telling in the end.
C’est la vie.