I’m not a shy person. Almost anyone I’ve ever met could attest to that, I don’t think anyone would ever even consider describing me as “quiet” “withdrawn” or “introverted”. No, I’m much more likely to blunder into meeting someone new, use my Northern accent/charm/wit to enchant/offend them, and then potter off to make a mess somewhere.
Yet when it comes to my writing, I’m very self-concious. I don’t like people reading anything but the finished product- schoolwork essays were never reviewed mid-way through, articles are never sent to editors until I’m 110% happy with what I’ve written. Otherwise, I get nervous and forget how to spell and feel like everything I write is stupid. It’s not just original work, either. When writing up bills at the restaurant I waitress in, I get flustered if a customer is standing on the over side of the bar watching me- and there’s no creativity involved in writing “Bottle of house wine, £14.75″.
I can’t stand people reading my stuff in front of me, either. It feels very self-indulgent to watch someone read an article, email or blog I’ve written. It’s like when you watch your favourite comedy or youtube video in front of someone. Instead of just being relaxed and enjoying it yourself, you’re nervously checking that they’re reacting to the funny bits, and promising that it gets better in a second. Awkward.
Part of publishing articles and blogs online is that when people Google my name, it will come up with a list of things I’ve written. Which is obviously fine, because if it wasn’t I wouldn’t have written them in the first place. Yet it is slightly scary. People who are so inclined merely have to tap out my name in order to read through anything I’ve ever had the courage (vanity?) to publish online.
Seeing as I’m pretty likely to be the only Farrah Kelly in the world (Arabic first names aren’t usually paired with Irish surnames), I’m pretty easy to find. It wouldn’t take much effort to cyberstalk me, in any case. Unlike all you Joe Smiths and Liz Bloggs out there, I can’t hide behind the thousands of people with the same name online. I’m up there, ready for anyone to mock. It’s a good job very few people actually care what I have to say for myself, otherwise my self-esteem might be in trouble.
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| Blogging- the lamest hobby ever? |
There are also certain people that I feel embarrassed about “admitting” I blog to. There’s something very lame-90s-girl-who-writes-about-feelings about telling people you blog. You say the word “blog” in front of people who don’t bother much with the world of the interpipes and all they hear is “0HMYG0D Justin B33bz iz SO CUTE 4eva LOL xoxo”. And while I mightn’t have a style that’d sell millions of novels, I’d like to at least credit myself with a little more talent than OMGLOL-ing tweens.
Recently, I’ve been “caught” blogging in two capacities. It was like I was caught picking up leftover food in the street, or watching Big Brother sincerely. Ah, the shame.
Firstly, my boss found out I blog. He quickly assumed it was about my feelings (which it is, I guess?), rolled his eyes, and moved on with his life. It was pretty embarrassing. And if he has any inclination to have a nosy, then he’ll be reading this (Hi, Adam!). I hope not, because it’d make for a pretty awkward conversation at my next shift.
Secondly, someone found an old blog post. And I mean old. I won’t mortify myself further by going into any detail, but suffice to say that we now know that it is definitely physically impossible to die of humiliation. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be writing this now. Never write anything you don’t want people to see. Not on paper, in sand, and certainly not on the bloody internet. Just think it, shrug it off, and be glad that your thoughts aren’t screened publicly. Put down the pen. PUT DOWN THE KEYBOARD. Trust me.
Whatever my self-conciousness issues are about people seeing my writing, it’s tough, frankly. I love writing too much to stop just because I cringe whenever I say the word “blog”. It may be an indulgent hobby, but it’s mine. So I’d better get used to it already.
