It’s funny when I meet people who initially “know” me from my blog. I can’t say why, but I find it embarrassing when they talk to me about it or say that the like reading it. It’s almost as if these posts exist somewhere outside of me, in some foreign land that I only know peripherally. I mean, part of the reason that I like to write things down is that I am so abysmal at conveying my thoughts through conversation. So, when someone talks to me about something I wrote, though I’m grateful they appreciate it, I often feel like I’m on the spot.
This quirk might be something akin to my weird relationship with vanity. For lack of a better word, it seems sinful to be proud of the things I do. It is rare that I will volunteer to someone I meet that I keep a blog. Is that strange? I mean, it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. But, the idea that I might have to explain what it’s about? No, thank you.