Meta Blog

This evening I went out with friends F. and D. to have some dinner and a beer at a nice snack shop with an outdoor patio. F. is working here doing research in public health and trying - without much support from her organization - to do an internship. I met her through our housemate, who is also interning at the same place.

D. is a geologist working with a titanium project north of Maputo. I met him on my flight from Joburg to Maptuo last month when, coincidentally, we sat next to each other. I have good plane karma. I think each of the 25 or so flights I've taken in the last 2 years I've had lovely seat companions.

So we went out for some food and had a nice time chatting, catching up in general on the latest events in each other's lives. At the end of the meal, I ordered a last beer, the famous saideira in Brazilian Portuguese. My friend F. declined a last drink, so I offered to share my beer with her.

F. looked at me with a puzzled face. "I thought you didn't like to share drinks with people."

"Oh. You read my blog," I said.

"Yeah," she responded, "you know, the whole list of random things."

"Well, I don't mind sharing all the time. I wouldn't have offered to share my beer with you if I wasn't truly okay with it. Honestly."

Despite my insistence that I wasn't grossed out by sharing a glass, F. declined the offer and I sipped my last beer alone. Sometimes keeping a blog can backfire on you.

I am reminded of this post from last year, when shortly after writing my friend Jenny came over for dinner and was slightly, shall we say, apprehensive about the hygeine in my kitchen.

At the mention of my random list post, F., D. and I got into a conversation about why I chose to start a blog, the surprising impact it's had on my life here in Mozambique - especially in terms of meeting new friends - and the concept of blogging in general.

D. asked if I've ever written something and then regretted it, to the point of deleting the post from the public eye of the internet. It made me think. I've certainly written some spill-all posts, in particular last year when I shared a flood of carefully harbored secrets seemingly out of the blue, but I can honestly say that I don't regret anything I've written about in this venue.

Certainly, in moments of self-doubt, I've been tempted to retract some of the more intimate posts I've put on my blog, but the responses I received from family, friends (real-life and virtual), and complete strangers did away with any regrets I might have felt. If anything, it's been quite a liberating process to put myself out on the internet, with very few things held back.

I am mindful of the fact that my grandmother, Rico's mom, my parents, and a slew of other people upon whom I want to make a good impression read this blog. The fact that they have read about some of my darker, more scandalous times and still love and respect me is, in my opinion, a giant step toward self-accpetance and healing.

Regardless, there are a few subjects that I won't touch in public form - sex, the nitty-gritty of my relationship, a couple of very personal issues, and my opinions of other people's drama. But beyond these few self-imposed restrictions, I can honestly say that what you see here is a pretty close representation of who I am in non-virtual life.

At dinner, I asked F. and D. if they would ever consider keeping a blog. Both gave a resounding "no". I asked if they would be more open to the idea if they could write anonymously, with the assurance that nobody would ever connect their writings back to them in real life. Interestingly, both said that they'd rather write candidly, without a pseudonym or fabricated persona, or not write at all. And for now, the decision remains not to write at all. I respect that. Blogging isn't for everyone, I fully recognize this.

Not everyone can be a nerd like me!

That said, I do miss paper journaling. I used to write every single day from the time I was 15 to when I was about 22. I've talked about this before, but sometimes I worry that the more intimate details of my life in the years since I stopped journaling will slip away, be contorted or simply ommitted by the unfaithful nature of my memory. I've tried before to rekindle my journaling habit, unsuccessfully. Writing on the blog has become my new habit; I suppose I just need to have faith that the deeply personal details that I omit from my virtual audience will be there when I need to recall them.