Last night, I did something really nice for myself. I got a sixty-minute massage from my friend Kirsten, who is a certified massage therapist in San Francisco. When I arrived, I was immediately put at ease one of the benefits of going to someone I know, instead of a stranger and the hour that ensued was unbelievably relaxing. Kirsten is truly talented, responsive and soothing. I’m going back next month.
I can’t believe I’m starting graduate school in a month. My free time is about to take a serious hit, but I’m excited about writing papers and taking exams again. And o, all the reading and office supplies and note-taking with my fountain pen!
My writing here seems superficial to me as of late. Deeper things are going on, but it is not prudent to discuss them here. It’s funny; when my online writing “career” began six years ago, I didn’t avoid sharing incredibly personal problems with my audience. Nowadays, there is a growing contingent of people who, obsessed with schadenfreude, read journals not to connect but to ridicule. While “locked” posts (like friends-only LiveJournal entries) can pre-emptively defend against this sort of behavior, they are designed to exclude people, and so are by their very nature anathema to why I started writing online in the first place. I speak on this topic as both the excluder and the excluded: it’s not like someone can’t tell when they’re prohibited from reading locked posts. I suppose I’d rather write very little to everyone than a bit more only to select groups of people, upon whom I then have to depend to keep my confidence, or even to care. The latter seems disingenuous in its partial trust, although it is merely a mirror of how, offline, we choose certain people as our confidantes over others.