My Secret Life
Nov. 15th, 2018 08:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lifeonthepike“You really should start a blog,” she said, as she took a photo of my latte.
“Why? I don’t think so.” We had repeated this debate a few times before.
“Because you have such observations on life and the places you visit. You know the history of the place. And why it works.”
I leaned over and kissed her after putting on my gloves and taking my mocha. It was time to make our way through the ice and snow outside.
She trudged slowly to the metro, trying not to slip in her boots which to me seemed more fashionable than functional. My feet were dry. My lunch break had drawn to an end and it was time to hurry a bit.
Back at work I thought about it a bit more. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I have a blog. In fact, it was my second blog, my first having ended a tragic death in the aftermath of a relationship upheaval, deleted rather than being offered up as share from one of many friends who followed my life. But then again, more of the same has led me to believe it is time to move on from this online world. Facebook is not quite what it is anymore, and even Instagram seems poisoned. I have friends on there – on both networks really – scattered throughout the world. My whole life is there, but I am happiest in the present. It is ironic that I am considering writing more online.
My online life, or shall I say my secret life, has always been hidden and somewhat separate from my day to day life. In some way, it is like Paul Theroux in “My Secret History,” where he spills the beans to the reader a fictionalized version of his life – how he lived in between the travel writing and the novels that he had at that point spent 25 years accumulating.
Paul Theroux, however, projects an image of a stereotype. He becomes one who writes of people in a crude and blunt way. I hope not to become that person, nor do I hope to become, as the New York Times reviewed him, one who should really replace the word “secret” with “sexual.”
I would say that is what I am here to explore myself including my past, but in reality I am here to explore the present. I will not explicitly tell my story. Instead, I will give glimpses of my life and my experiences so people slowly understand how I think.
Perhaps at some point it will become a story. In the meantime, life’s observations.
“See you Monday,” I said. “A bit after eight in the morning.” We are heading south together.
“Why? I don’t think so.” We had repeated this debate a few times before.
“Because you have such observations on life and the places you visit. You know the history of the place. And why it works.”
I leaned over and kissed her after putting on my gloves and taking my mocha. It was time to make our way through the ice and snow outside.
She trudged slowly to the metro, trying not to slip in her boots which to me seemed more fashionable than functional. My feet were dry. My lunch break had drawn to an end and it was time to hurry a bit.
Back at work I thought about it a bit more. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I have a blog. In fact, it was my second blog, my first having ended a tragic death in the aftermath of a relationship upheaval, deleted rather than being offered up as share from one of many friends who followed my life. But then again, more of the same has led me to believe it is time to move on from this online world. Facebook is not quite what it is anymore, and even Instagram seems poisoned. I have friends on there – on both networks really – scattered throughout the world. My whole life is there, but I am happiest in the present. It is ironic that I am considering writing more online.
My online life, or shall I say my secret life, has always been hidden and somewhat separate from my day to day life. In some way, it is like Paul Theroux in “My Secret History,” where he spills the beans to the reader a fictionalized version of his life – how he lived in between the travel writing and the novels that he had at that point spent 25 years accumulating.
Paul Theroux, however, projects an image of a stereotype. He becomes one who writes of people in a crude and blunt way. I hope not to become that person, nor do I hope to become, as the New York Times reviewed him, one who should really replace the word “secret” with “sexual.”
I would say that is what I am here to explore myself including my past, but in reality I am here to explore the present. I will not explicitly tell my story. Instead, I will give glimpses of my life and my experiences so people slowly understand how I think.
Perhaps at some point it will become a story. In the meantime, life’s observations.
“See you Monday,” I said. “A bit after eight in the morning.” We are heading south together.
