A Certain Spin on Words

Sharing my thoughts in writing with strangers is not new to me, but still strikes me as a little odd. Nonetheless, I've grown very fond of this little web of mine. In the past week I've spent more time telling whomever happens to read my words about myself, specifically my on-going "talk less, listen more" experiment. Maybe the fact that I'm talking less these days is why I'm spending more time expressing myself here. I'm also pretty sure there aren't any real "strangers" who are reading this. I suspect only a couple of friends who know about this web might stop by every once in a while.
In fact, "blogging" as it's called (a word I will never use again because I think it's so ugly) has always puzzled me. Why would anyone think that the minutiae of their life is so fascinating to complete strangers? Yet, here I am, doing exactly that. I've pondered this notion a lot lately, and have come to realize it's because I'm an actress, writer and storyteller. I want, and need, to express myself.
I still write in my journal almost daily. I love holding a good pen in my hand and feeling it roll smoothly over paper. I write my deepest, most personal thoughts in my journal. But they are not meant for anyone else; they are not meant to be shared. On the other hand, I have this lovely web of mine to communicate ideas and stories I want to tell.
I also know that my web is one of literally hundreds of thousands out there, and that only a handful of people know about it, and even fewer actually pay me a visit. But I write here nonetheless. The possibility that someone out there, someone I've never met and probably never will, can read my words and follow my thoughts pleases me. It validates me as an artist. I also know that most of my friends and family, people I love and who love me, do not visit me here. I understand that. They are busy, vibrant people with rich, full lives. My little "hobby" (another word I dislike, but there it is) is intended to entertain me, not them. Fair enough. But the artist in me, the person who needs an outlet for self-expression, also needs to be heard.
I'm fully aware that the time I spend here may be no different, i.e. in terms of being heard, than writing in my journal. But there is one crucial difference. If someone were to read my journal (goddess forbid!), they would be exposed to parts of me that are not particularly attractive. This web of mine, however, is meant to express only the best of me, the part of me I don't mind revealing to the rest of the world. In fact, I find it very odd that a perfect stranger might come to know the best of me - but certainly not all of it - when some of my nearest and dearest aren't abreast with what preoccupies me, or lifts me up and out of the so-called ordinary, day-to-day life they see me living. How weird is that?
I also know there are at least a few friends who do visit me here, and I want to thank them publicly. So thank you Rebekah, Cheryl, Barbara and Susan G. Your interest in my web, my stories, and me, touches me deeply. Your expression of friendship and respect for me, and who I am, makes the time I spend here worth it. And don't forget, my dears, and anyone else who may be an unknown member of my legion of followers, what goes around, comes around. Attention is always rewarded with information. And knowledge is power. I wish you well, as I do all people of good will.
- G. P.