Elizabeth Gilbert shares an amazing, potentially freeing idea with her TED audience:
It's heartening to me to think that my compulsive need to keep going with this stupid singing thing is actually me collaborating with some other force. I don't own it, I simply work with it. Hmmmm.
Not that I think 'my' force is at the genius level, but still...
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Too Much Information
It's getting verrry late, but I can't stop. I just posted 25 Random Facts about Me on my Facebook page. It was harder than I thought to come up with 25 little-known things about me. I think it's because I'm a fairly open book, and because I have a self-censor that still wants to keep a few secrets. Even though this is an anonymous blog, I'm still aware of the fact that if I tell someone about it, word could get out and I may have lawsuits and Armageddon on my hands.
In some aspects of my life, I'm fairly aware of the need to tread the line between privacy and openness. On the Internet, I have a reasonable, though not water-tight, level of privacy, while still allowing enough info to get through that I can keep actively connecting with people. On the face-to-face personal, emotional side, if I like someone, whether it be romantically, or simply as a friend, I tend to let a lot more hang out.
While such a situation shows a lot of trust (or, rarely, stupidity on my part), it can sometimes lead to vulnerability, or alienation, if someone can't accept the confessional. Not everyone is keen on having a close-up view of my warts. When I was in high school, that fact finally dawned on me. In my efforts to make my friends aware of my mother's mental illness, and the effect it had on me and my family, I would just blurt out the whole damn story. At the time, though, this freaked a few friends out. Crazy people were a lot further into the shadows than they are now, skeletons in somebody else's closet.
I'm a lot more judicious now about who learns my history. Overall, I find most of the new people I meet aren't spooked by the concept of me having a crazy mum. They're a lot more empathetic and curious than in the old days. In fact, most know very well they are separated by only a few degrees from someone who's struggling with mental illness. They're usually very aware and supportive. Or maybe I just have better taste in friends than I used to...
In some aspects of my life, I'm fairly aware of the need to tread the line between privacy and openness. On the Internet, I have a reasonable, though not water-tight, level of privacy, while still allowing enough info to get through that I can keep actively connecting with people. On the face-to-face personal, emotional side, if I like someone, whether it be romantically, or simply as a friend, I tend to let a lot more hang out.
While such a situation shows a lot of trust (or, rarely, stupidity on my part), it can sometimes lead to vulnerability, or alienation, if someone can't accept the confessional. Not everyone is keen on having a close-up view of my warts. When I was in high school, that fact finally dawned on me. In my efforts to make my friends aware of my mother's mental illness, and the effect it had on me and my family, I would just blurt out the whole damn story. At the time, though, this freaked a few friends out. Crazy people were a lot further into the shadows than they are now, skeletons in somebody else's closet.
I'm a lot more judicious now about who learns my history. Overall, I find most of the new people I meet aren't spooked by the concept of me having a crazy mum. They're a lot more empathetic and curious than in the old days. In fact, most know very well they are separated by only a few degrees from someone who's struggling with mental illness. They're usually very aware and supportive. Or maybe I just have better taste in friends than I used to...
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