to lie.

Journal entry – My own 7.5.2005

My DarylDellamorte Bravejournal has been gone for about ten days now. Inadvertently deleted from the internet I began to somewhat regret my snap decision, accidental as I reasoned the event to be. Since that date I have started to peruse blogs outside of the spectrum of Bravejournal and have found elements of structure that I deem admirable. For a Bravejournal, DD was a formidable presentation. And proudly I can state that I was never elected (or selected, or self-nominated) for the revered by many, Journal of the Week award. I am proud in a negative sense. I want acclaim from not being acclaimed.

So two online friends (I do not use that term lightly) have made personal pleas for me to reconsider, well, writing for them. I created a new blog through a different host recently, incognito with an entirely different written voice. Not only would old readers not know the site was mine from lack of personal identification, they would not know it was me due to the change of my writing style.

Privacy became a huge, personal issue for me at the DD blog. In the burgeoning days of my blogging I craved readership (attention, friendship, call it what you will). I practically begged my small circle of associates to read about my waste of a life by sending out an announcement every time I made a new entry. One person regularly affirmed that they were actually paying attention to the progression of my painful migration through the fields of the life of a lone man. (And now she has a new baby’s migration to follow. Hiya Kim!)

It seemed sudden, the onslaught of my life’s popularity. After 6 months I was not only having regular readers that would identify themselves with tags and comments. I had attracted a rather huge contingent of readers I had absolutely no idea of who they were. I’m talking about 150-300 strangers a day reading (well, potentially reading, the counter really only tracks the amount of people that visit my blog) about my life. By years end (6 months of dairying) over 10,000 visitors had been to my site.

My mind is a little peculiar. My life is not exciting at all, but the way I think and the things I think about, those might prove to be a wee bit intriguing to some of the unusual characters out there looking voyeuristically for a bit of privacy invasion. And this is one of the elements that started to concern me. Just who is it out there that is reading about my private thoughts and activities.

As my life progresses it seems to get a little weirder day by day. I pretty much think out loud through my diary entries. If you and I were to share an evening drinking Harp ale, much of what you would hear me tell you is what comes out in this diary. In fact, that is not an accurate metaphor at all. I tell you much, much more in my writing than I would if I were drunk. Sodium Pentothal. That is what my blogging is like.

I don’t write to impress or scare anyone. Really I don’t. I did start to though. Scare someone. That was the beginning of the final stages of DD. I decided that I needed to have a private area where I could continue to post my serious dairying where the general public could not access it; a password protected area. I gave the password to about six people; one of which I should not have. The person that I scared, when she read about the deeper spaces I was getting into she kinda freaked. At this point I freaked too. I no longer felt that I could tell the truth about what was happening in my life and I began to claim that what I was writing was all fictionalized.

My ability to publicly diary my life froze up. Well, I had also found out that a close friend of my mother was reading the blog. This was not right. I stopped writing. I took down the tag board. I changed my title picture to a graphic of pearls being thrown before swine. And said no more.