Hello, out there ....

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Isn't It
A-Musing?
Well, here I am. After months and months of resisting, of avoiding, of denying, of turning up my nose in defiance, I've finally succumbed. Yes, I've surrendered, tentatively, to the blog, this newish technology, this modern communication tool, this gift of the early 21st century. Previously, I'd met the call of friends and business associates - "You need a blog!" and "What did you think of my blog!" - with indifference, even a soupcon of distain. "Hah," I'd think, "you must be kidding. I mean, for God's sake, what's a blog and why would a woman of a certain age have any interest creating one, never mind posting (to?) one? Tell my musings - my innermost thoughts, my brilliant insights, my deep dark secrets - on line to the entire friggin' world? I think not."

Maybe it's generational. Okay, I do get it that the "kids" would like to blog. (Jeez, noun or verb, the monosyllabic word alone inspired loathing; ugly, curt, flat, blah, it utterly lacks charm and nuance. In the same family: text.) An on-line diary makes perfect sense. For teenagers. It marries two of their biggest obsessions: their life (friends, family, fears, humiliations, loves, thoughts, experiences, etc.) and their computers. Anyone who remembers those hormone-flooded days of turmoil and trouble, of worry and insecurity, understands the appeal of unburdening and processing through journaling. But isn't a diary supposed to be, like, private? A sacred space where one spends time with one's self, alone, working things through? Where one gives face-time and voice to one's secret demons, thereby releasing them? Somewhere along the way, in our media-drenched, celebrity-emulating culture, the personal became public. Once we tasted our 15 minutes of fame, we craved more ... and more. We adopted the PR person's credo of "any news coverage, however bad, is good." Sorry, but I was raised that rather than air one's dirty laundry, just wash it!
And, really, where did this sense of self-importance come from? Does anyone really give a rat's patootie what I think?

Not to mention, writing is hard!

God, I feel so old ... and wise.

to be continued ...

© 2010 Theresa Quadrozzi - A Muse In Manhattan

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