I’ve been blogging for over five years now. Never once has my blog been the cause to run into trouble. Not even the times I have ranted about my folks through my angst-ridden pre-twenties, or when I bitched down a few people I had grown to dislike. And that was only because family loves you too much to point fingers at you. The real world? That’s a whole different ball game. It’s uncaring and can turn from friendly and coy to cut-throat and cold before you can say tiddlywink. So when it almost did yesterday, it got me thinking. About just how much is too much? When does one draw the line on the information sharing? Who gets to decide? Should one draw the line to begin with at all?
The intricacies of the situation I found myself in are complex. But without going into what happened, let me try and simplify the thoughts that have plagued my mind ever since.
Mine is no special blog. It’s just another run of the mill self-obsessed, self-centred bunch of narratives about I, me, myself, my thoughts, my life, my little world. Yes, nothing special. It really doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the singular thread that ties all my writing together is that every piece is connected to me. Just this afternoon, in a completely unrelated chat conversation, my friend Arjun said, “So many thoughts you have in your head da.”
And there it was. The penny had dropped. He couldn’t have been more right.
The thing about my blog is that I am freaking wedded to it. It is almost this person I go back to at the end of everyday. The person I confide all my thoughts to. The person I can’t wait to share my every meaningless thought with. Its where I go for everything beyond mere narration of the happenings of my rather ordinary life. Where I share, challenge, debate and consider pretty much everything that goes on inside my thick head. Whether as a result of my actions, my interactions, my associations, my memories, my likes and dislikes or anything.
The blog is my chalkboard, if you will. My canvas. My stage. My means of expression to string together my thoughts and show them off to the world. But here’s the catch, as private as some of those thoughts may be, it is a public domain. I don’t know why I switched to a blog. It just happened as a sort of natural progression from the two score journals that I have kept since age 12. Except it was a huge jump. From privately spinning words in the hidden recesses of my journal (sometimes even in code, mind you :O) I made the mighty leap. It doesn’t get more out-there than putting your words on the Interweb. But by doing so, I have chosen an audience that is beyond my control. As is what they make of my meandering thoughts. Heck, sometimes even I sometimes can’t make sense of them.
But that’s just the beauty about this queer relationship I have with my blog. It is like a husband. It is the one person I don’t have to always make sense to. It is the one place where I don’t have to curtail, concoct, candy-coat, craft and canoodle my way through my words. I do enough of it on the job. And as a a creative person in a job that is bound by a million rules, I couldn’t have a better creative vent than this blog. Every one of us needs one. Ask the writers you know, and they’ll tell you what a mad lot we are. We can never keep pace with what’s going on in our heads. They ones that have found a way to at least track their thoughts will tell you how wonderful it is.
So that’s that. I’m wondering if I should shut this place down and resort to my good old journal. Good old pen and ink. But then I have grown so attached to it that shutting it down would be like breaking up with a lover. Stifling and filtering my thoughts would be like keeping secrets from him. And even as I grow wiser with what my eyes have been opened to yesterday, I find myself coming back to the question I began with: Just how much is too much? In a situation where I am what I write, because what I think makes me write, just how much can I choose to ignore and omit? In a forum so publicly-public, what qualifies as private?