It’s easy being a blogger. In fact just about everyone I know now has a blog. It’s a beautiful thing isn’t it? It’s the one place you can share your wonderful experiences, your complaints and views, opinions and perspectives, and whine about everything in life in general, without the fear of being judged or reprimanded by the world, well usually at least. And in my head, at least.
Of course it’s a completely different thing that anything and everything I write is being used by your brain to form an opinion about me and an opinion about my opinion of myself. But then if I start taking that into consideration, chances are I’ll talk as little and diplomatically on my blog, as I have often forced myself to, a lot of times in my life. And I don’t like that. This blog, now around for more than six years, is one of the few connections to my past and who I really am, and I’d rather not spoil its sanctity by pretending or holding back on it.
Anyway, coming back to the point, as I was saying, blogging is the most amazing release of all the built up emotions and thoughts most people have bottled up inside them. It doesn’t matter whether you can write or not, what matters is that you want to systematically let them out. Of the blogs I love, one friend writes one liners every few days which give the most deep insight into her life at that moment. Another lets out the most humourous sexual thoughts, yet another follows a random posting algorithm to let out whatever she feels like, another writes under a pen name. I’m not sure what I do. Maybe there is some logic or pattern I follow, but that’s another thought for another time.
What got me wondering right now however, is while life is all nice and flowery for bloggers, it cannot possibly be so for the friends or loved ones of bloggers, isn’t it? Everything that happens in my life doesn’t happen in isolation, it’s caused by the people around me, or affects them in turn. And while I happily go ahead and rant about all the thoughts and feelings in my head about the situation, they inadvertently get mentioned on my blog, under a pen name, anonymously or subtextly (I know that’s not a word, but what the heck). And while I’m gladly checking Blogger Stats and smiling at the number of clicks I get within the hour (around a hundred every time, thank you very much), they’re the ones getting troubled with calls or just the simple knowledge that the world (talk about my ability to exaggerate) now knows, or worse, is at a liberty to guess what might be going on in their lives.
It cannot possibly be easy living with a blogger.
On the other hand, I’m not a tweeter, so maybe they should still be a wee little bit thankful.
P.S. Grumpo, Pappu, Fat-boy-slim, Le Dudes, and the vegetarians and filmy people of this world: I’m really sorry if I have ever managed to piss you off, or worse, embarrassed you through this blog.
Of course, I’m not promising I won’t do it again.