minutiae

Giving thought to my residence in Blogland again. Funny how some weeks I have no end of things to say + others there is nothing at all. Maybe there are weeks where I’m more attuned to observation, checking in on the details + quirks, + others where it all flashes by in a blur of melding moments. (Not melting moments. Unfortunately. Mmmm… melting moments.)

I stumbled across a lovely passage on the Next Wave Festival site yesterday:

CLOSER TOGETHER… The rhetoric of global culture tells us that we are being brought closer and closer together. By media, communication technologies, the free market and other snappy buzzwords which signify somewhat less transparent systems. But how close are we, and how much do we really know about each other? …closeness and its conflicted nature: as a catalyst for connectedness, community and exchange, but also of claustrophobia, confrontation and invasion. The collapse of the private sphere into the public and the increasing tendency to live out our personal lives in very impersonal arenas. The demise of public space, as a concept and a reality...where is the space for vulnerability, intimacy, privacy and exchange in an increasingly globalised world? What is the potential for genuine, unexpected connections, and what might they look like?

It rang lots of bells for me… as someone who probably craves connectedness above all else. And also as someone who plays at creating a space online for vulnerability, intimacy, privacy + exchange, while being well aware of the inherent tensions of the public journal. The private made public. Its inimical intimacy.

People seem to respond well to the intimacy. (The few people who drop in + choose my door from the available array in this vast public sphere!) They applaud me for sharing miniscule candid details + hurts. Maybe that’s what it comes down to... am I being candid because I’m talking about the hurts? The bits that suck + make me cry, as well as the bits that bring joy. I’m still only revealing the bits that I want to. It’s still a selective truth + may never reflect any version of a whole picture. I rarely tell you about my asshole-moments, or fat-days, or nose-picking, although I think you get enough boring-bastard-moments. There is no question that I’m a self-centred little navel-gazer. Maybe a tad too earnest too. And enough with the hyphenating already!

See… now I’m even boring myself.