If I were a sponge, you could wring me!
1:12 p.m.
As I mentioned in an earlier entry, it was my good friend tcklyrpharsn who first got me interested in writing online. She had mentioned that she had an online diary, and I never pried, since I really wasn�t interested. But one day, while chatting away amicably on MSN Messenger, I mentioned that I might be interested in starting one myself, and she recommended this particular site. So I created an account for myself and wrote with abandon, posting entries that perhaps revealed a little more about my personal and professional life than they should have.
Let me explain that I live in a small town with a university in an area where such an institution is a unique thing (having to do with the language of instruction) and that, since this university has about the enrollment of my old high school, it is not all that difficult to start identifying individual professors if one tries hard enough. Tickles was very helpful at first, pointing out where I might be making it easy for outsiders to find my diary through search-engines by using actual spellings, and I started to learn those tricks which internet users the world over now employ for hiding their tracks.
However, one day my darling husband, who is a rather well-known personage in certain circles in this vast country of ours (his and mine, and Tickles� too), was reading over my shoulder and became aghast at my blatant use of first names and descriptions of situations which were damning to particular parties. He told me of an incident where a NY police officer had kept an online journal and had publicly posted certain information which eventually led to his dismissal from the force in disgrace. My own indiscretions could possibly have kept a certain person from getting hired elsewhere were a future employer to read my diary, put the pieces together, and recognize the applicant as the shmendrick about whom I was writing.
In order to make everyone happy, I promptly locked my diary (I had all of two readers, who were issued passwords) and proceeded to go through all my back entries with a fine-toothed virtual comb, expunging references which could get anyone in trouble. I changed names to protect innocent and guilty alike, and deleted whole entries (after dutifully backing everything up first) which could be used as evidence against me or anyone else. I then unlocked my diary, and that is what you now see. When I have felt a need to vent my frustrations, I have written an entry, and then deleted it (after backing it up) within the following 24-hour period. While I feel no qualms about perfect strangers being privy to my deepest and darkest and most damning thoughts, it is those who might know me who give me pause for thought. The 533 previous entries listed in my profile are the story, but not the whole story. I realized that this is not about anonymity, since it is easy enough for anybody to figure out who and where I am; it is more about not writing anything I am going to regret later, and that is what I have endeavoured to do.
In the meantime, I have been having a great time here. I�ve met some wonderful people through their diaries and the chatroom, and I hope that somewhere, sometime, somehow I can meet them in person and be more than just �invisible� friends. Darling Ilonina told me, when I was trying to convince Hubby that it wasn�t such a serious thing, that I should look upon my diary as an exercise in creative writing, and I have done so. I think my writing has improved since I�ve been here, and I know that I am often inspired by many of my fellow diarists whose prose and poetry I also admire and enjoy. I want to thank all of you guys out there for your support and also for letting me into your personal lives as I have opened mine to you. You�re the best!
In other news, it rains non-stop and if you were to wring me, I�d drip like a sponge.
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