Five posts in, and now that I'm becoming a bit of a contributor to this weblog phenomenon I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything "creepy" about the way I've been following the lives of my predecessors for the last year or so. The blogs I find most compelling are the ones most clearly written by individuals who not only have something to say, but who also are not afraid to share telling details of their personal lives.
Straight diaries might hold me for a few posts, but I'll rarely return. And straight political or culture commentary blogs are good for an intellectual binge when I'm in the mood, but they're not the blogs I check in with on a daily basis. What I really enjoy is hearing Emma talk about the problems she's working on in philosophy, and then telling us about donning old goth garb and going out on the town. Or Jane, who is elevating videogame scholarship to the levels it deserves, but who also shares with us news of her breakup and experiences with a new masturbation toy. (I'd love to be a woman for a day to try that!) Gabe and Tycho make a living from their internet endeavors, which seems heroic enough, but to then turn around and raise over $125,000 in donations for sick kids--how can you not visit their website every time it's updated? I like knowing about Michael's experiences with yoga and Friedrich's struggle to lose weight. These people become friends, and that makes me all the more interested to know what they have to say about French Impressionism, Neitzsche, Prince of Persia, Manhunt, or Patrick O' Brian. As I continue to read them, I begin to feel I know them. And then, there is that little thrill when one of their opinions surprises me.
Still, all of this goes on while the bloggers have no (or almost no, if they have comments enabled--and why on earth wouldn't they?) awareness of my existence. I feel a bit like a stalker, except, of course, that every blogger invites me in and wants my traffic.
Of course, virtual and long distance relationships are always surreal and different from "the real thing." Have any of you ever had a borderline friend-acquaintance who you never really hit it off with suddenly move away, and for some reason you start writing and discover that, in letters, they become one of the most intelligent and vivacious people you've ever known? Or the reverse (I imagine it must happen all the time now, with online dating) where casual emailing turns intense, interesting, and passionate, but when you finally meet in person you find nothing to say to each other? My experience was the first, with a girlfriend with whom I was fond, but the relationship had no spark and ended blandly after only a month. We drifted apart after I completed high school, but when she decided to spend a year as an exchange student in Hungary we started writing in earnest and have never stopped. She now lives in North Carolina, and as distant pen pals we are closer than ever.
Still, despite the long-distance and epistolary nature of this relationship, it's reciprocal. Reading these blogs, and hearing personal confessions and revelations from them--well, it's a little like hiding in the bushes under the bay window and peeking in. It's nighttime, I guess, so I can see in, while to the writers the glass is mirrored.
I'm probably just going crazy from being on the Cape too long, while all our "real" friends ("in the flesh" friends? "brick and mortar" friends?) have scattered out to cities and "done something with themselves." D & I are a little desperate for interesting people to converse with, and as we can't move anytime soon, all these folks on the internet seem a fair target for our affections. Meanwhile, I'll set myself up in my own glass house, with the shades up and the lights on.
Post a comment or send an email, if you like. Tap on the glass.
Yours,
Nate