Friday, October 28, 2005

Alt+Tab Personality

I talk to myself. I like the sound of my voice from between my own ears. It's articulate and, unlike, actual speech, I can stop mid-sentence because I haven't through through the ending. Instead of tucking my tongue between my jaws and silencing my raspy voice, I can re-start and edit as I go an infinite number of times so long as I don't trip over a sidewalk or my perfectionist OCD - a mental hurdle that projects itself every time I try to sit down and write. Just because no one reads these is no reason for the hurdles to shorten.

Typing my thoughts on-screen is different from talking myself through LOST end-game scenarios: these are complete sentences. At least, most are. I do like to mix grammatical rules in with my morning hot oatmeal.

I focus on each word, most I leave alone because I just want to finish, and each sound around me. The clacking of the keys louder, even, than the Internet radio I always have playing like a soundtrack. This writing life is not unlike a 2-hour drama. Only, I'm no hero and must hear music rather than wait for an afterlife screening with music mixed in.

I'm typing these teeth out of my head in my FeedDemon screen. I have the links I want to include on the left, the blogger post screen taking up two-thirds of the screen on the right and numerous windows open in the background where only my attention can lose itself...a window for my Outlook Express, my Internet radio station, and my MySpace backdoor just in case I need to step outside after dark when all the world sleeps. An unemployed, college graduate in Journalism and English, Blogspot is where I work; MySpace is where I hang-out when I'm not working. (If I were collecting unemployment, I wouldn't say this, but since I'm not, I admit I lounge-around more than I work.)

I do blog on my MySpace profile. Usually, I blog there more often that I do here. The atmospheric difference is writing in a small-town coffee shop and writing behind a cubicle in a skyscraper. My "friends" are a click away and I'm not buried so deep in responsibility that I hunch to not be seen reading my e-mail. No, I am not getting paid for any of this.

Blogging is not my life just as an Internet RPG is not the life of a gamer. But, it is a lifestyle. It is a subculture of blending work and entertainment ideals. The Internet with its blogging and social "communities" is very much 1984's "Big Brother." We're still a few years away from innocents monitoring innocents and "Thought Police," but where mysterious disappearences still lie within Sci-Fi paperback covers, little is secret any longer. Just, now, we're leaving ourelves open, assuming our own life stories aren't being read and comfortable naievity opens us up further.

Why then, am I concerned with complete sentences and poetic grammar? Some secrets are best left unwritten; some are best re-written thousands of times and never published, I guess.


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