My blogger account is a teenager. My Me-Fi number is four digits. I have tweeted six thousand nine hundred times and I hardly ever twatter! Anymore. Anyway, I didn’t invent overshare, but I was probably webcamming my ladybits to someone while it was being invented, and if you ever wondered “has liz ever had dreams of a prurient nature about Bill Gates?” that answer is not hard to find. Nor are my ladybits, I’m sure, but I’m sure most of you know that by now, eh? One thousand six hundred sixty nine posts in this archive, with whole years gone missing — there was more, I’m not even kidding. And you know I am almost always either not serious, or not kidding. Usually both.
Once I was a woman of many strong opinions, and I loved them. I loved arguing about them too, I considered it a form of sport — in the way that I once considered Farmville to be a form of … what? Honestly I’d love to know what I was thinking when I thought that one. But that’s not what I came here to talk about.
Once my will drove me to express my self in ways that would … what was it? Oh, piss people off, wake up the sheeple, you know the drill. I came to that stage relatively late in life, and took to it with some exceedingly fervent fervor. And then I came out as an atheist and espoused some seriously liberal politics and … well, I apologize for the couple of years spent being a complete asshole, let’s put all that behind us and just agree to disagree if we do?
Because there came a time I became much less interested in watching my own viewpoints either go unchallenged, or face only the most trollish of challenges (the treasured ignorant enemy that one can frame oneself smart when shown side-by-side against) — where’s the fun in that? What I am most fascinated with is those who share the same facts with me, who have reached alternate conclusions — but this is such a rare thing and when I consider its stimulating possibilities, I cannot help but be compelled by the ennui to just walk away. This isn’t your textbook lazy-ass type of apathy, if I sense I can change a thing I will consider doing things designed to make differences but let’s just face it, there are not too many of those things out there and I’m currently doing a whole shitload of them and that’s all rather beside the point, because it’s the fucking grey areas that are the real problem. That and the thing where none of this is really very important at all against the vastness of existence. Then you realize the only thing we really have is our perceptions and therefore while perspective isn’t exactly *everything* it really, really is most of the things. And every one of us has our own one of those, no two alike. Fucking perspective, it makes strangers of us all.
But what does one do when one has been blathering one’s own perspective about for a good decade or more, then suddenly … this?
Me? I went quiet. Oh not entirely quiet, I still typed many things into many boxes, but somewhere along the line I learned the X in the corner was the appropriate click for me. Stop became a mantra of sorts, no was another. I felt silence was the most unexplored of all my options and embraced it … fitfully. At best. I hope.
I’m not trying to claim I was any good at being the kind of quiet I probably should have been but couldn’t be because there is literally no way to know what that even means, because I wasn’t, and there isn’t, and then again there might be you just never fucking know. And THAT, dear person reading this, is the actual problem here. Well, that and the fact I overuse the word ‘actual’. And the unknown unknowns. Fuck those things, and any regrets I may harbor regarding them.
I want to continue to write (if you’d call this that), and I mean to do this for as long as I’m around. I can’t help but notice that no thing really really matters, least of all a pretentious little outburst like this one, which at this moment seems rather exceptionally insignificant.
Exceptional insignificance is something I can live with.
I can live without it too.
As to whether there is any truth in this honesty, well, you tell me.