I wonder if I really should blog. I've tried, but I can't seem to keep my posts impersonal. I feel like blogging is something I might one day regret, like love letters to crushes written when I was a girl. Are they still out there somewhere, in a shoebox in some closet? Yikes. Yet I still have a few that were sent to me. Do those boys (men now) wish that I hadn't kept them? Not that I still read them. I don't even know for sure which box they're in. In the attic, I suppose. Part of the reason I keep them is that I don't have any from my husband. We met in college and were seldom far apart, and so had no occasion to write. He's not a writer. I did write to him a few times after we got married and were separated by his new job for a couple of months. I think those letters are around somewhere. I have a few cards he's given me over the years, but not a single letter. He always used the telephone instead, or didn't. And now, what do people write? It's all email, from everyone. How romantic. Blech. It's nice to have a box of old beaux waiting for me to paw through when I'm a grandma. I don't need it now - I'm too happy with life, my wonderful husband, my heart-filling children, to need old beaux. But perhaps I will some day want to remind myself that there were boys who liked me well enough to write it down.
Part of me looks on blogging as acting, in a way. All the internet's a stage... I really love acting. I was a theatre major once. And yet I'm not trying to fake anything; I mostly blog with complete sincerity. (Ok, so I am sarcastic sometimes, but I am sincerely sarcastic.)( Just kidding.) ( Ha!) I don't want to have too many personal details out there in cyberspace, like my real name, but hopes and fears are treated almost like a grocery list at times. I hate looking foolish and yet, I do it all the time. I'm getting used to it. It's as though leap before you look is my motto. "Get messy. Make mistakes." And yet I think I am so very careful. I appear careful. Some people do think of me as smart. I have one sister who is my best cheeleader in that regard, and I hope she knows how much I appreciate her. She, after all, knows most of my past mistakes. But then, I remember my 10th high school class reunion. (Yes, that was a few years ago, I'm youngish, but older than that.) People kept saying to me, "Little Candle String! All grown up with kids of your own! Wow!" and in a surprised tone to each other, "She grew up well, didn't she?" These were people my same age, in my same class, and I felt like I was listening to some grandpa or aunt appraising me. As though they had been so much more adult than I when we were all 17 years old. It was odd. Was I really that innocent? I didn't think I was. Were they not? Am I still?
It's not a bad thing to be trusting, but it would be nice to be exciting sometimes. I'm not. I'm pretty and can be fun, I'm friendly when I know you, aloof when I don't know you (shy really, but it comes off as aloof, or so I've been told), but not exciting. I guess a good word for me is sincere. I know I used it above, and to keep using it doesn't make the writing flow as well, but sincere just seems to fit. Earnest would do, I suppose. Boring often, depending on how you define it. Gullible might even be appropriate, more's the pity. Gullible. Not stupid, just trusting. When I am suspicious I am nearly always wrong, so I have given it up for the most part, though of course I try to be careful out in the world.
One more thought, and then I'll quit: If I am trusting and get duped, who really ends up looking bad? I am hoping it reflects less poorly on me to have put my faith in a person and been fooled, than it does on that person to have been untrustworthy. I feel this is true because whenever I have been on the other side of the situation, I know I am not a better person for having been cunning.