Most of what you read here is history. It recently occurred to me to realize that these little tidbits, some amusing, some not so much, some entertaining, some self-revealing, a few embarrassing but reported none-the-less (which is surprising to see in print, as there was a time when I would never, never share things of a humiliating nature): are part of my legacy. Along with those half a dozen journals I wrote to maintain mental health nearly ten years ago, when I found myself unintentionlly living part time in two different places - always, always feeling like I should be someplace else.
Having recently shared the blog address with someone who had never read it before, I heard about another individual falling off the chair after reading of the 'Lizard Incident'. (The reptile eventually came to an untimely end - if you haven't read the update - probably due to stress...) It is now apparent that these words and musings will continue to circle in the atmosphere for eternity. According to an article in a recent Time magazine about what happens to things you launch into cyberspace, it seems that most of the information now floating in the atmosphere is available to anyone who makes the effort to retrieve it. There are no controls or laws in place to protect the material for the family or friends of the former owner/author/producer.
So even though most of what you have read here is pretty cheezy and lame, I don't think there is anything so mortifying as to be worth trying to protect. Remember me telling you that when you put stuff up on Facebook you have no control over where it goes, and who sees it. You heard me say I am convinced that the majority of people who delve into that site are voyeurs. They are people who want to know about you, your life without being willing to reveal or invest anything, no reciprocation - which is pretty much in the same category as folks who stand in the shrubbery and peer into windows after dark. So though you think the info. is casually shared amongst your dear friends - it's out there, for all the world to see - anything you hang out on the clothesline is fair game for every passing eyeball to observe.
If you want to read those hundreds and hundreds of pages in the composition books I filled with my thoughts and misery when I was 'in the pit', in desperate need of therapy, they are on the top shelf in the closet. I have not looked at them in years, But I know there are shards of my heart between the pages and need to keep them safe.
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