The Moving Finger writes
Mine, however, does not. It just sits there with the rest of me, staring at this technological equivalent of a blank canvas. Occasionally it twiddles. Stupid finger.
Sure, I have absolutely no idea what to say, but I think it may go a little deeper than that.
On the one hand, we have the Colossal Ego. The little stick figure in your head jumping up and down and screaming, "Me! Me! Look at me! Over here! Yeah, me!" The part that wants to show off, that craves attention and approval, that hopes everyone else gives a damn what it has to say. One suspects that, if it weren't for nice, healthy egos, LiveJournal would be virtually nonexistent.
And then, on the other hand, we have the innate desire for privacy. One thinks of human beings as social animals, driven by instinct to seek out the company of others of their kind. Yet the desire to be left alone (when one so chooses) is so strong that, when the Founding Fathers over here in the United States forgot to include the words "the right to privacy" in our Constitution, some old men in black robes eventually decided that they had to be implicit in the rest of the document anyway. (Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479 (1965) if you're feeling curious, or just really bored.)
The desire for attention naturally conflicts with the desire to keep things to oneself. Anonymity is a very common way to finesse the whole issue. The Internet is a remarkable creature, full of journals and blogs and forums and communities and bulletin boards and mailing lists and newsgroups and innumerable other ways to communicate. The vast majority of these communications are essentially anonymous: just pick yourself a username and off you go. You can communicate precisely what you want and no more. Opinions turn out to be less popular than you hoped? Who cares! No one knows it's you!
Now, I've got a trifle less anonymity these days than I used to have, but that's actually not what's keeping me from posting about the lint I found between my third and fourth toe yesterday. Oddly enough, it seems to be the ego. Yes, apparently I'm under the impression that there is a "right" way and a "wrong" way to maintain one of these journals, and apparently I'm so desperate for the approval of anyone who might happen by that I won't post anything unless it is the elusive perfect post.
(By the way, just in case you were wondering, this isn't it.)
Sure, I have absolutely no idea what to say, but I think it may go a little deeper than that.
On the one hand, we have the Colossal Ego. The little stick figure in your head jumping up and down and screaming, "Me! Me! Look at me! Over here! Yeah, me!" The part that wants to show off, that craves attention and approval, that hopes everyone else gives a damn what it has to say. One suspects that, if it weren't for nice, healthy egos, LiveJournal would be virtually nonexistent.
And then, on the other hand, we have the innate desire for privacy. One thinks of human beings as social animals, driven by instinct to seek out the company of others of their kind. Yet the desire to be left alone (when one so chooses) is so strong that, when the Founding Fathers over here in the United States forgot to include the words "the right to privacy" in our Constitution, some old men in black robes eventually decided that they had to be implicit in the rest of the document anyway. (Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479 (1965) if you're feeling curious, or just really bored.)
The desire for attention naturally conflicts with the desire to keep things to oneself. Anonymity is a very common way to finesse the whole issue. The Internet is a remarkable creature, full of journals and blogs and forums and communities and bulletin boards and mailing lists and newsgroups and innumerable other ways to communicate. The vast majority of these communications are essentially anonymous: just pick yourself a username and off you go. You can communicate precisely what you want and no more. Opinions turn out to be less popular than you hoped? Who cares! No one knows it's you!
Now, I've got a trifle less anonymity these days than I used to have, but that's actually not what's keeping me from posting about the lint I found between my third and fourth toe yesterday. Oddly enough, it seems to be the ego. Yes, apparently I'm under the impression that there is a "right" way and a "wrong" way to maintain one of these journals, and apparently I'm so desperate for the approval of anyone who might happen by that I won't post anything unless it is the elusive perfect post.
(By the way, just in case you were wondering, this isn't it.)