Wednesday, Oct. 16, 2002 / 1:34 p.m.

~Sometimes We Attack and Eat Our Own~

I have a bit of a rant. A bit of a something to get off my chest. And since this is my diary, albeit online, and since this is concerning online diaries, let me do it here. No, no 'let me', I need no permission, this is where the rant shall be noted. It's not directed 'at' anyone, it's definitely 'about' someone, no denying that, but that someone will most likely not even read it, and if so, so what? It's only my diary.

I've written close to 700 entries in this online diary. I started it almost a year and a half ago, and I cherish it, it means a great deal to me. This is really and truly a diary. Yet it is online, a place I never would have considered posting my most private thoughts for any and all to see not so very long ago. Now it's simply something I do, I write, here, almost every day. It's become a part of my day. And do I think/worry/concern myself at all with who is reading it? All the time. Sometimes it's hard to write because I know a few of the people who definitely will be reading it. I hold back a bit, or I don't write about those people specifically.

I have other outlets. Paper journals. A daily calendar in which I document each day. This diary is not all there is, it's only a small part of me, of what I write. And that small part of me gets a little thrill knowing that total strangers may read it. That someone may stumble in and read a lot of it. And I may think back to the time when the webmaster of one site read the entire thing� then emailed me his phone number in North Dakota. It's odd to imagine carrying on a 'relationship', particularly romantic, with someone who has read all of this.

I didn't come here to make friends either. Some people do, it's obvious, and there is no harm in that. As much as I detest people, as a species, I also care very much for them. I am compassionate and empathetic, and can be quite social and dynamic in public settings. Sometimes I even crave support, companionship, a bit of understanding, but I can't say I am looking for that here. That is not the purpose of this.

That said, I do enjoy the camaraderie of Diaryland. I enjoy the guestbooks, the notes, the diary rings I joined, I enjoy surfing diaries on a weekend night, late when I'm bored with TV. I enjoy a few of the people I've 'met' here. Some I would like to meet in person one day. I think we all have common interests, especially the desire to write, to be read, to be 'heard', even if we prefer the 'cyber relationship' to anything remotely resembling 'reality'.

It's not been easy. I've run into roadblocks, creative and otherwise. Destructive forces, namely people, people who become something other than themselves when they get in front of a monitor and a keyboard. It's been unpleasant, I've fought, I've even locked my diary. I think I kept it locked for a full 8 weeks or more. A 'core' group of readers had a password, and they read, they expressed 'loyalty' to me. How odd is that? What kind of social relationship is this Diaryland? It's unique. And I think it's a good thing.

I'll always remain conflicted. I'll always be on the verge of stopping, of deleting all of it, of locking it, of censoring myself, of re-thinking everything. Always. And sometimes I wish I could be like Bobby Burgess and just write. No guestbook. Email if you must, but not begging for approval or responses or kind words. Could be I'm like all the other attention whores here.

Why put it here? Online? With guestbook? With Site Meter? Checking stats daily, checking to see who has me listed, or who took me off her list, checking to see who else has updated, leaving notes, sending email?? It's like a big party, it's like a club, it's like a community, it's like having friends, but not having friends, knowing there is someone there, someone is out there, and if I want to know I can, but sometimes it's best not to know.

It's intensely personal, and don't fool yourself into thinking it's not. You're exposed. I know more about you, or you, or you, than your best friend, your mother, your lover. It's that small part of you that you let show in that one entry you wrote, just like I wrote. And did you think I was being honest or could you tell it was all a front? You don't know me, I don't know you, but I do and you do as well. It is confusing, I agree.

And how I've lashed out! I've offended, my words have been intensely powerful. Do you know the reactions I've gotten?? Do you know about the guestbook that I had to shut down?? Do you remember what happened last December, what prompted the lockdown?

I've been through a lot here, I'm a passionate person, I feel things deeply, I'm strong willed, I can be forceful, intensely independent, and I can fight like Mars the Warrior, my ruling planet. If you can only read these words you may misinterpret my meaning. You have to be as strong as I am, or I may hurt you, inadvertently or otherwise.

Your decisions are your own. But� if you write here, Diaryland, or any other online journaling site, you set up some snazzy HTML layout, you link to a guestbook, your email address, you include a Site Meter, you WANT people to read your diary. A part of you is reaching out to the people you think you hate, because you don't want to be so alone in your thoughts. If you did, if you truly wanted a diary for you and only you, you wouldn't write here. You know that. If you write for yourself and your friends to see, you want your friends to have access from anywhere in the world, create a password for them to use, keep the diary locked, that's an option and you know that.

It IS personal. It's all so very personal. You read this? This is my diary. What could be more personal than that?

I do it too. I said it, I am conflicted every day. I see the stats every day. I can tell when people are fucking with me, when people I know are looking for me, when 'regular readers' are reading me, I see all of that. And believe I check it. Every day if I can. I understand the frustration, read this diary and you'll see that I have written the same words. I've lashed out at anyone reading this, hating that you do, then wanting you to, asking you not to, locking you out, then opening the door and inviting you back in. It's not hard to figure out what it all means, and it can be easy to relate it to hormones if I look at my calendar. The whole debacle of December 2001 happened during my PMS time�

The 'bottom line' of this rant is what I wrote in the previous entry. People come and go, and I don't have to 'interact' with anyone here. I like the guestbook entries, the notes, as much as the next person, and it strikes me as really strange that one might mention the pleasure of such in one entry, then denounce the entire group of 'readers' in the next. What do you want?

You are conflicted too.

It feels like a 'relationship', and no, you don't know me, you can capitalize it if it makes you feel better, if it emphasizes it in your mind, but I've read all about you. Every word. Think about that before you tell me it's not personal, and you lash out again, then read what I write. I wonder who is more confused. Should we have a contest? Who is more conflicted? Who possesses the most angst?

I don't need any more aggravation than I have already. I'm not going to torment some fellow diarist by the very act of reading said diary. If conflicted, people, lock it until you feel better. And if you lash out?? Expect that it will be taken personally. It is all very personal. Your lashing, the response to said lashing, what you write, what we write.

People come and go, and the toxic ones are best left behind. No, I don't know you either. But I know far too much about you, and I know my reaction was natural and valid and very personal, and any reaching out I did to you, was heartfelt and genuine, and the kindness was not well received, nor returned. I'm leaving one behind, but I looked back briefly, enough to warrant this rant.

This is how it goes here, in the land of online diaries, journals. Sometimes we attack and eat our own.

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