(no subject)
I'm always mildly curious about the different networks my laptop's wifi can detect when I send it searching. Especially around home. There are a grand total of ten wifi networks available to me in my bedroom, three of which are unsecured, and one of those I pick up at full strength. :-) Good thing ours is secured. But I do wonder who else is broadcasting, and where from. Each one represents somebody somewhere, their life and their work, and I just catch the edge of it.
Catching the edge of lives... I do wonder sometimes about people I meet, and what sort of lives they have that I never know about. Some things you can guess by the clothes they wear or the car they drive. Not that those impressions mean everything: I'm continually amazed by who returns the gesture when I meet a stranger's eyes and smile. It makes such a difference in their face. I wonder sometimes whether any stranger thinks of me beyond "that average-sized woman with really short black hair and glasses." There are a thousand presumptions to be made on the little slice we see of those we don't know, and most of them are inaccurate.
A glimpse of life, just a small piece, and how aware is the subject of the image they project? Some, like my brother, are full aware of how they seem, and can use it to great effect. I've known him too long and in too many ways (through family and friends, through hardship and plenty) to be fooled by any one mask, but I wonder still how deeply I ever see of him, for he does still surprise me. I can sum up what I know of him, twenty seven years of words and actions, and make a clearer picture, but I do not doubt there are sides of him he simply doesn't show me.
We have so many facets. We have so many lives. I used to wonder about people who could live split lives. I'm the sort of person for whom every part of me effects every other part, but these days I do find that I'll turn up one side or another depending on who I'm with, and what I think they'll like. It was one part of the difficulty of telling my parents that I was going to visit an LJer. Do they know how much time I spend online? Do they know how much of my life I've put there? What will they think of me when I tell them? How will it change what they see?
But I tire of hiding. It's easy with people I'm not close to. I have yet to tell my coworkers that I'm on Facebook, even though I know they are. I'm still deciding whether I want them to see it, especially since it has a link to my LJ. But my parents know, now. They know about this journal, though I don't know if they've come this far yet. My small group at church knows. I'd tell the college group, if the subject came up. Because I want them to know all sides of me. I want them to see what I am, and what I'm thinking. Not to show off, not to burden them, but to give them context, and understanding, and to encourage them to do the same. The more closely we can mesh with each other, sharing what we are, what we've done and where we're going, the more fully we can build each other up, and share each other's burdens. By itself, this journal is a small window (though I try to make it as complete as I can), but taken with the other faces I wear, perhaps it can make the connection with those I love a little more complete.
In other news, I've been rewatching old SG-1, and... I guess I never realized that Daniel was already snarking, albeit quietly, as early as Season Three. ::loves Daniel::
And I think my icon suits the essay, actually.
And C.S. Lewis is wrong: sometimes I like to read the essays. I suppose it depends on the essay. I like my own essays, and you lot can do some amazing essays, and I love reading those. Hm.
Catching the edge of lives... I do wonder sometimes about people I meet, and what sort of lives they have that I never know about. Some things you can guess by the clothes they wear or the car they drive. Not that those impressions mean everything: I'm continually amazed by who returns the gesture when I meet a stranger's eyes and smile. It makes such a difference in their face. I wonder sometimes whether any stranger thinks of me beyond "that average-sized woman with really short black hair and glasses." There are a thousand presumptions to be made on the little slice we see of those we don't know, and most of them are inaccurate.
A glimpse of life, just a small piece, and how aware is the subject of the image they project? Some, like my brother, are full aware of how they seem, and can use it to great effect. I've known him too long and in too many ways (through family and friends, through hardship and plenty) to be fooled by any one mask, but I wonder still how deeply I ever see of him, for he does still surprise me. I can sum up what I know of him, twenty seven years of words and actions, and make a clearer picture, but I do not doubt there are sides of him he simply doesn't show me.
We have so many facets. We have so many lives. I used to wonder about people who could live split lives. I'm the sort of person for whom every part of me effects every other part, but these days I do find that I'll turn up one side or another depending on who I'm with, and what I think they'll like. It was one part of the difficulty of telling my parents that I was going to visit an LJer. Do they know how much time I spend online? Do they know how much of my life I've put there? What will they think of me when I tell them? How will it change what they see?
But I tire of hiding. It's easy with people I'm not close to. I have yet to tell my coworkers that I'm on Facebook, even though I know they are. I'm still deciding whether I want them to see it, especially since it has a link to my LJ. But my parents know, now. They know about this journal, though I don't know if they've come this far yet. My small group at church knows. I'd tell the college group, if the subject came up. Because I want them to know all sides of me. I want them to see what I am, and what I'm thinking. Not to show off, not to burden them, but to give them context, and understanding, and to encourage them to do the same. The more closely we can mesh with each other, sharing what we are, what we've done and where we're going, the more fully we can build each other up, and share each other's burdens. By itself, this journal is a small window (though I try to make it as complete as I can), but taken with the other faces I wear, perhaps it can make the connection with those I love a little more complete.
In other news, I've been rewatching old SG-1, and... I guess I never realized that Daniel was already snarking, albeit quietly, as early as Season Three. ::loves Daniel::
And I think my icon suits the essay, actually.
And C.S. Lewis is wrong: sometimes I like to read the essays. I suppose it depends on the essay. I like my own essays, and you lot can do some amazing essays, and I love reading those. Hm.