Eleven p.m. on a hot sweaty night, home after choir, really should go to bed but I’m checking e-mails, caught in the sticky addictive pleasure of The Screen. Cruising the blogosphere, which I haven’t done for a while, I come across a blog I like. A nice bright woman from my old home town.
I don’t share her preoccupation with cats or knitting, but I like her style. And what I like best of all is her use of the phrase “Unbloggable Issues”, to refer to...well, the stuff she is just not going to talk about on her blog. Yes, I too have my “Unbloggable Issues” Of course.
Someone said yesterday that they thought my blog made my life look fantastic. I guess part of the reason I blog is to keep focussed on the many blessing in my life. And they are many.
My private diary - which I’ve kept since the day I turned 13 - is (among other things) the repository for all that is un-sayable, the place to sort through the murky and uncomfortable stuff. Back then it was "I hate Mum" and "I hate Dad". Worth remembering now , as the parent of an almost-13 year old.
In this blog I try to appear like a relatively sane and balanced person, only ever hinting at The Shadow Side. But I'm always suspicious of excessively 'positive'or 'together' people who don’t seem to have a Shadow Side at all. And I don't think I'm alone in experiencing a sort of relief and amusement when the high profile self-styled Spiritual Master/Religious Leader/ Good Person turns out to be ripping everyone off and having sex with their followers.
Talking of the un-sayables, this ad in the 'Health and Beauty' pages of Byron Echo amused ( & depressed) me... At least I don’t have ‘pulpy feet’...Great contrast with the usual radiant images of svelte young bodies in serene yoga poses, or else blissful, only slightly ‘older’ faces being ‘rejuvenated’ in an airbrushed pastel swirl of ‘serenity’ etc.
Talk about blunt. So Indian, somehow...
Meanwhile, back to Sweetness and Light ...This little wallaby sat peacefully munching on fresh grass just a metre or two away from us as we ate our dinner (risotto) on the verandah last night.
1 comment:
You are right. It is nearly imposible to separate reality from "fiction" when one writes. Just an omission transform reality in fiction.
What we are is nearly imposible to say too. But what we feel, in a given moment, is the closest we are to it, either dreaming or awake.
My wife, and a couple of good old friends, have told me the same thing too - that my blog does not lie but it is a lie, because I (mostly) write about beautiful things only. That it is not me either, because I am more than that, more acid, more cynical, more ironic, well a lot of that in fact, making fun of everything.
But I really like the little wallaby on your picture, it is my real me! liking it :-)
PS. Did you manage to see my holiday pictures? No Photoshop tricks on that :-)
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