I Happen To Like To Communicate.

I don't, but not always by choice. 
It's like involuntary showing 
mysterious wisdom. 

I am one of those people who constantly feel I have a lot to say, about most topics. I enjoy to be opinionated, I thrive when I get to ponder and wonder about how different standing points could, perhaps, look upon the matter, what their reaction to situations would be like, or how access to resources or different stages of life impose lifestyle. I am one of those people who think I can add something to just about any topic talked about.

I don't really get to air my comments to others much. For some reason I get interrupted a lot, and instead of claiming my space, I tend to withdraw. I speak up because I have this eager thought I would hate to let common sense burn out inside of me for never to be uttered. Only to find my own words just fade out in the buzz of other, louder voices.

As alarming it may sound, and this is totally true: I have not yet, after 28 years, had a proper conversation with my in-laws. That's right; I always end up listening, and then my husband interfere and pretends he is talking for the both of us. Most times he does, because we agree to a large extent, but still; even him.

Then, when I come across people who listen to me, I get so startled I forget every name, event and even word I am about to say. Many times I am left with this bitter taste in my mouth that I didn't get to express what I really meant. It just comes out the wrong, stuttering, insecure way. And leaves my partner in conversation just.... totally confused.

Like... at a Christmas party I told a woman that: "You have been bugging me through this entire holiday!!! You keep popping up as a possible connection, and I must have sent you like 20 invitations on Linkedin."

The poor woman tried to excuse herself, for not having sorted out her Linkedin profile for years, and that she had several profiles... some not active, but she would get it sorted now that her son was at home.

I, on the other hand, sounded like a pathetic idiot, who couldn't take no for an answer. I guess pure luck saved her from adding me. Of course; now that she has sorted out her profiles, she is not accepting me. Not sure I would either.

I would probably be holding a restraining order if we lived in the States, and I wouldn't blame her.

On that note: it is a woman I enjoy being around a lot! really! I just have to figure out how to fix our relationship back to friendly.

Just because of that, blogging is a perfect forum for me. This is where everything I got on my chest can be expressed, with a hint of eloquence, without me feeling muffled or that I say something nobody really cares to listen to. I don't steal anybody's precious time by forcing them to listen to my rambling on.

Here I can talk uninterruptedly knowing whoever reads what I write do so by free will and no obligation, no strings attached... ok, so it has happened I send a link or two to somebody I feel could find some entertainment out of reading what I wrote about this or that. But it is still volunteerly for them to actually read it.

At least they will get the notion I know something about something... if not anything else, I know words.

In spite of having a blog with no other agenda than the one I present above (or below, in this case):

There are so many blogs out there. This is mine. I don't expect it to be particularly good, but it is my life and my thoughts on life and the world as I see it.

Having a blog gives me the opportunity to explore, amuse, challenge, provoke and maybe even look upon values and morals with an unexpected twist.

It is an egotrip where I get to post my own opinions, in my own words, and I get the satisfaction at least I uttered them out there, for anybody to see... if they care to.

That being said. I really don't get a lot of comments or sharing of my blog. As much as I tend to bloom in the spotlight of attention on facebook, the blog has become a different matter. Not everything I write is entirely true: I maybe exaggerate or understate, but there is always a core of some truth. My truth.

Since this is a lot more sincere than my successful facebook-life (mind you, my display of an alleged successful life, in spite of my humble 140+ friends), where likes and clicks and sharing is a huge part of being active, I think I would be intimidated if I got too many comments displayed in public here on my blog. I don't mind them, by all means, I love them! It means I have hit some sort of nerve, and getting them is probably just a matter of getting used to. (Read: Feel free!) Like Chris Brogan once said: “If you accept all the praise, you have to accept all the critics.” And that's fair.

I do enjoy the emails I get from you, and I do try to reply them all. Maybe not right away, but shortly.

I just read through what I just wrote, and I have to say: who am I trying to fool?

Everybody knows that positive feedback is like a drug: you just crave more and more of it, and more often. And after a while you start to get discontent if nobody gets to see what a raging (moderate) success you are.

But then I think to myself: I will never have 50 000 followers on my blog, I will never be a top notch commercial blogger, but I do feel like I get my voice out there. I show how I feel about things, and state my opinions, without being interrupted, and that is still, to me, of the greatest value. (And that is why, when I feel very strong about something, I write it down and send a link, or email, to my husband...)

Because, after all, just like Tom Foremski said: “Blogging is a communications mechanism handed to us by the long tail of the Internet.”
And I happen to like to communicate... just not very good at it live.