Anonymous by venitha

For the first time since Jim created this blog ...

My initial response: A what? Who's going to want to read that? And who's going to want to write that? Do you not have enough to do? Because I've got a looooong list right here, my friend...

My current response: Mea culpa, my beloved.

... I am yearning for anonymity.

I feel creepily spied upon by stalkers "friends" from a lifetime ago. I feel over-exposed to co-workers whom I don't know well (No, of course, I don't mean you). Worst of all, I feel the need to censor the information I provide about family, about Jim, about myself.

And yet! This blog is such a glorious connection. Co-workers enjoy our India pictures, and we laugh about the movie-like unreality of riding a camel. I call a friend in Colorado this week to catch up, and she already knows I'm in town, was hoping I would call. I speak of my happiness and relief at being able to drink Singapore's water, and my sister-in-law nods knowingly: I remember you wrote about that. I am amused and frustrated by the irony of having wrung interesting stories from my boring and ordinary life only to discover that, thanks to this blog, I've already told them all.

I'm tempted to give it up, to start a new blog, an anonymous blog, under a smart and sassy alias. Ah, the catharsis of writing with refreshing candor of my xxxxxxxx, of writing with heartfelt venom of my xxx xxxx, of writing with brutal introspection of my xxx-xxxxxxxx xxx xxxx.

Talking with my mother-in-law about my hopes for a leave of absence from work and my plans for the year ahead, I said, "Maybe I'll quit blogging and write a book."

"Oh, don't do that!" She admonished. "I love the blog."

I love it, too. Anonymous or not. Mea culpa, my beloved.

venitha