About This, That And The Other

About This, That And The Other

I wish pure coincidence would forever replace cold calculation and stupid mistakes would get the better of boring perfection!

Am I exaggerating? Maybe, but probably not too much. Anyway, you be the judge of that.

I recently fired off a comment on an online forum that I came across by coincidence, or even by mistake. I absentmindedly click on the wrong link – and what happens? I am among bloggers going on about How anonymous is your blog? I was embarrassed, like somebody who came to the wrong address and is walking around in confusion, unsure what to do next. And instead of making myself scarce (to protect the anonymity under discussion), I wrote something along these lines – let me quote from memory:   

There is nothing anonymous about my blog, which contains a lot of information about me, such as my full name, current residence, cellphone number and e-mail address – in addition to my education, occupation, track record, interests, photos, etc.

Question: Didn’t I expose myself too much in what is, after all, a public place?

I don’t know, but this reminds me of a scene from a film – unfortunately, I don’t remember the title or the director. Asked “Who are you?”, the main character, with a deadpan face and without a word, empties her purse onto the table: ID card, driver’s license, photo, lipstick, mascara, mirror, and so on. I might have missed a thing or two, but no matter. My point is that identity is sometimes used as a shield to protect privacy.

That’s why it would make more sense to ask straight out, Do you blog about your life? As you know, some authors claim they’re happy to “share” their life with their readers. Great! you’ll say. Isn’t that what every good (because sincere) blog or diary is all about? What’s more, those authors are ready to fall on their knees and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Far be it from me to doubt their good intentions, their openness and sincerity, their genuine need to share life’s bread and butter with their readers. And yet I’m afraid that by their life they mean only that part of it which, as Ambrose Bierce would say, “they can relate to themselves without blushing.”

I fully agree with Bierce’s accurate assessment and I don’t blog about my life. I’m far from enthusiastic about that highly popular but intrinsically screwy private-public genre known as the diary. Besides, in life – private, public, or whatever – I thrive on things that are more often than not tactfully ignored, and not only in diaries. I prefer fiction, good old fiction that gives me literally everything I need – complete freedom, limitless space, unpolluted air, clear blue sky, and infinite possibilities to express myself.

That is, more or less, what I wrote, and with relief, I switched from public to private. And then, between 5:44 p.m. and 6:37 p.m., I had a delicious beef steak with fried beets.

(Translated from the Polish by Krzysztof Mąkosa)

© by Krzysztof Mąkosa