Journal

Exhibitionism and mental masturbation? Nonsense. Blogging is about hiding. It’s about partial truths and a voice that is binding as well as freeing.

When my partner tells me he’s unsure about our relationship I write about protesters rallying for peace. When I don’t know whether we’re partners or not I write that I’m tired. When he leaves me I write about civilian casualties and how untrustworthy and partial reports of a war can be.

The only way I can blog that he left me is obliquely. I demote his name on my blogroll, link less frequently and wonder whether anyone notices. Today I mask my grief and anger with this academic reflection over a genre. I want to tell the world but this hurt exceeds the genre and voice I’ve created here.

Written by Jill/Txt many years ago.

I sometimes do the same. It makes me wonder what kind of record this is. Although sometimes when I read back the entries I remember what prompted them, and what was actually going on, beyond the typing. So maybe it is a record of sorts, for me, and a bunch of random bits and pieces for everyone else.

PS My relationship is quite fine. This is not a veiled attempt at hinting of problems in the home. (Except for the cat, who is definitely The Problem In Our Home.)