The Internet is a Desert: Why Blogging Makes Me Feel More Exposed Than Poetry

Since beginning, or re-beginning, this blog, I have received a lot of support from friends and family. I have been surprised by the collection of people who have reached out--some who I speak to once a year, others once a day.

Over tacos on Tuesday night, my bossladyfriend (she is my boss, but also my friend, and a lady),  pointed out that what she had read on my blog ("You read that?") reflected a very different side than the Dahlia (that's my name, have I said that on here?) she sees at work and social events. This totally struck me. Like lightning, or a frying pan to the face. Okay, not really, but dramatic prose rules.

I was taken aback (that's actually a word, apparently) because I generally consider myself a pretty consistent and continuous person. As in, I don't feel like I compartmentalize my life too much, and that people who I know from different setting would probably all describe me similarly. My bossladyfriend's comment spurred quite a bit of thought. What am I thinking? I work with kids. No duh I'm not going to show my painfully introspective-reflective-analytical-pontificating self while supervising a game of handball. I guess somehow I figured that since this individual, my bossladyfriend, knows me beyond work that she would just assume I was hella deep 'n' shit. I think a lot of times I assume people read into "I write poetry," in ways that are accurate (hella deep 'n' shit), and some that aren't (tortured, starving, alcoholic).

But apparently not. And apparently, this blog will show readers who know me (and even those who don't..) a side of me they had no idea existed. This vulnerability isn't completely foreign to me. When I first began to workshop my poems in good ol' Intro to Creative Writing, I remember asking myself, "Will I be okay reading this out loud? Will I be okay knowing that my peers know this about me, now and forever?" A year later I self-published a book of poems. Whenever I handed a copy over to someone, I jokingly said, "You're about to get to know me a whole lot better..."

And so, I suppose I can say the same about a blog. Anyone who reads it will inevitably get to know me a whole lot better. Yet I feel more vulnerable here than I do on page. A book can be opened, and it can be closed. A book can be put away on the highest shelf and not be touched for years. My poems can be contained.

The internet is like a desert, with no shade under which to hide.