change
Tuesday, November 11th, 2008Sad news yesterday: MAK of Cows in the barn Fame is closing his blog. This was one of the first ones I ever read, and D and I had the great pleasure of hanging out with MAK and his other half on one of our New York trips last year. Sharing in his life by peeking through the window that his blog provided has been an absolute pleasure.
It’s weird, but I understand his reasons for closing down the blog. I stopped looking at the stats for my own blog a loooong time ago, and, to be honest I probably use Facebook more for networking. Plus there’s the fact that I’ve realised that, via either the blog or Facebook ‘notes’ feature, people I know, and who know me, can read this online journal.
It changes things, that realisation of one’s audience; suddenly, you’re not just voicing your innermost thoughts and fears to a vast, silent void. It’s as though the universe switched on the house lights, and you can see the audience, you can see their faces, see their reactions. You can see the look that says “Well that’s not how I remember it,” or “You really think that? God, you’re more f*cked up than I thought you were,” and, like an actor suddenly self conscious at the ‘appearance’ of his audience, you change your performance. Subtly, at first, and then, as you get used to seeing your audience, as your knowledge of them becomes almost subconscious, you begin, in a way, to predict their reactions, and you find yourself committing the worst crime any journalist, diarist, writer can commit: You self-censor. This is how I remember it, you think, and you write the story. But half way through, you go back, and insert the disclaimer at the start: This is how I remember it, but you may remember otherwise. Your opinion is equally valid. And, really, if one can’t be entirely subjective in one’s own journal, what’s the point of having it?
Like Matt, I’ve found myself, on some more personal issues, writing nothing, because I know that people who know me might read the stuff and be judgemental in some way; or I’ve written about my life in vague terms, so that the blog becomes one of those “And then we did xxx and then we did yyy and then we had dinner” and nothing, ever, of any real interest, is disclosed or discussed.
I’ve been so very lucky this year: After a couple of years replete with Dramas (or is that dramae), D and I have had a year that’s been relatively drama free, and just comfy and cosy and domestic.
But the people around us – the people who share our world, our lives – haven’t been so lucky. A woman who started out as an employee and became a friend, died in her early forties, a month after the cancer was first diagnosed. She left a grieving husband and kids, and I still feel a little piece of heartbreak every time I think of her. Friends have gotten sick, lost jobs, lost partners, the prevailing air of fear about job losses, economic disaster, financial Armageddon, hangs spectre like over us. One friend was involved in one of the scariest things that can ever happen: He was accused – and subsequently cleared – of murder, my parents health issues rolled on – mildly, but worryingly nonetheless.
And I, by and large, avoided all of those issues. Not my life, you might think, so not mine to write about. But they are part of my life. If I heard of these things and didn’t care, then I’d say yes, I have no right to write, but the fact is I do care, and yet, still, I don’t write. Because I might say the wrong thing, might upset someone I love.
Then there was my job: I’m a little over a year here, and, right from the start, I was conscious that I wasn’t LOVING every minute of it. But you know what? I never intended, or wanted to. After a lifetime of being waaaay too involved with my job, to the point where it became my life, I had decided – and this was one of the principal reasons for choosing a behemoth corporate after 15 years at a tiny boutique firm – that I wanted somewhere I could come, do my job, and go home.
But that’s proven hard too; not because of the company. Because of me. Because it’s very hard to break the habit of a lifetime. Because I don’t – ever – want to become someone who simply doesn’t give a Shit. But it’s hard to work out where the balance is, and it’s hard to come to terms with the fact that the voices saying “Oh, they won’t like you if you leave early / arrive late / work from home / put your foot down / stand your corner” might be talking bullshit. That the behaviour you have shown for the past 22 years of employment might have been a little on the unhealthy side. Oh, don’t get me wrong: I’ve done well, career wise, and I sincerely believe I wouldn’t have done quite so well without the attitude I had. I work hard, and I care, and those are, unbelievably, rare attitudes in today’s working world (and becoming rarer).
But if I want to seriously do what I said I did – get in, get the job done, get out, get on with my life, I need to accept that I might not be the Employee of the month; that the huge pay rises and bonuses may not be flowing my way (as if they’ll be flowing anyone’s way for the next few years), that I’ll just be another one of the mass. But that I’ll still be in work, still earning, and that aint no bad thing.
I guess the old leather journal by my bed is going to get more use. The Blog will change its focus; I still have it, and I still want to keep it going, but I don’t know yet how best to do that.
But change is coming; To my work – where I need to tighten the focus so that I can get in, get it on, and get out; To my writing – two recent writing courses have, once again, shown me that I can write, and I can write well (editing, on the other hand….) and I need to stop the platitudes about what I’m going to do, where I’m going to fit my writing in with my life (read ‘work’) and make some decisions as to whether I’m happy being a casual ‘scribbler,’ or want something more from it; The health and fitness thing – I drink too much. I like to drink. But I want some of that time back. Does this mean this blog is about to become the story of a recovering drunk? No. Like I said, I like to drink; but I need to ease back on the throttle a bit. Lately, I guess, in the absence of any drama in my own life, and as a reaction to the feeling of drifting, and, well, fear, I’ve over partied. I need to change that. My finger nails are bitten to the quick. That needs to stop.
There’s a list there – things I must do; things I mustn’t do. I like a list. Maybe I have some early New Year resolutions. I guess it’s time to stop adding stuff to the list, and start tackling the items on it, one by one.
I’ll keep you posted….