July 16, 1998
Mission Statement

*Someone* signed my guestbook in rather testy fashion this afternoon:

"Hey, what happened to the rest of the story. Like the time between leaving Tic Tac and ending up living alone. Didn't you have a boyfriend? Tell us the whole scandalous story."

I swiftly replied to *Someone* as follows:

"You're right. I did have a boyfriend. He was a nice guy, and for awhile we were happy, but then I screwed things up and now we're not together anymore. Whether or not I choose to share the details (on MY webpage) eventually is MY business.  In the meantime, if this website is SUCH a source of irritation and pain for you, why do you keep coming back? Just for the *fun* of harrassing me?"

I then called *Someone* at home and suggested that it might be a good idea if we don't talk to each other anymore. I got very little in the way of argument out of him.

I'm sad, of course. And angry ... with myself, for fucking up yet another relationship ... and with him, for never really liking me very much (and taking no pains whatsoever to hide that fact)...

... but relationship issues aside, this does bring up some interesting questions about cyber journals, and about what motivates people to post their deepest/darkest stuff in such a visible forum, and about what is or isn't "too" personal to post.

He very dourly compares me to those women on the Internet who mount webcams on top of their computers and broadcast their every movement to a panting cyber universe. ("Look! Now I'm swabbing my ear with a Q-Tip!")  I don't see it that way at all. (For one thing,  I don't have a webcam. For another, I don't use Q-Tips: I use paper clips.)  The way I see it, you either understand this sorta stuff, or you don't. You either think it's cool, or you don't. It's like those people who write to me, asking me to "explain" my AOL profile. I want to say, "If you don't get it, there's no explaining it."  Instead, I tell them I'm actually an elderly Japanese gentleman, and most of them go away.

Long and short of it here? I'm sorry that I hurt *Someone.* I'm sorry that I apparently/inadvertently continue to hurt *Someone* every time I turn around. I'm sorry (in advance) that this journal entry is gonna add more fuel to the flame, probably.  But I've decided finally, at age forty, that I'm going to quit tip-toeing around trying to make the *Someones* of the world happy. Selfish? Probably. Narcissistic? I dunno. Ask any of the bazillions of other people who keep online journals if they feel they're narcissistic ... then we'll talk. For right now I'm simply going to concentrate on doing the things that make me want to stay alive. And this webpage is one of 'em.

End of story.

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