thoughts on blogging
Hello world, flora here,
Blogging is so weird, in a way. I feel like I'm sending my innermost secrets into some void never to be seen again. I feel both self conscious and brave for doing it. On one hand, I'm pretty much announcing my secrets to the whole world. This may not seem unusual to some people, but I'm a pretty private person. Part of that is because I'm kinda geeky and tend to have interests outside of mainstream pop culture. Sometimes I'll make a Battlestar Galactica reference only to have the other people look at me like I just grew a second head. But I also live in secret fear that if other people really knew me, they wouldn't like me. It's like I never really grew past 13, that insecure age where you obsess about the zit on your chin completely convinced that everyone else is staring at it when in reality, they're obsessing about their own zits. I'm better about it then I used to be. But I still do it. I'd rather die then admit this out loud and yet here I am posting it on the internet with the comment section fully functional for all the world to ridicule. What's really weird is that, while my husband knows I blog I havn't shown him the blog nor have I let him read it yet. Which is really unusual for us because we're really close. I don't know, maybe I'll get the guts to show him later on. We'll see.
Blogging is so weird, in a way. I feel like I'm sending my innermost secrets into some void never to be seen again. I feel both self conscious and brave for doing it. On one hand, I'm pretty much announcing my secrets to the whole world. This may not seem unusual to some people, but I'm a pretty private person. Part of that is because I'm kinda geeky and tend to have interests outside of mainstream pop culture. Sometimes I'll make a Battlestar Galactica reference only to have the other people look at me like I just grew a second head. But I also live in secret fear that if other people really knew me, they wouldn't like me. It's like I never really grew past 13, that insecure age where you obsess about the zit on your chin completely convinced that everyone else is staring at it when in reality, they're obsessing about their own zits. I'm better about it then I used to be. But I still do it. I'd rather die then admit this out loud and yet here I am posting it on the internet with the comment section fully functional for all the world to ridicule. What's really weird is that, while my husband knows I blog I havn't shown him the blog nor have I let him read it yet. Which is really unusual for us because we're really close. I don't know, maybe I'll get the guts to show him later on. We'll see.