The 1800

1800

That's how many blogger profiles I looked at recently. I searched them via the tags: WA and Perth.

From the profiles I probably looked at 300 blogs.

Some were very old and long forgotten, some were too new to be able to hear the writers voice, some were just not me, and some were just like baby bears porridge- just right. Or should that be 'just write'.

I think I found maybe a handful, 15 or so, that I thought "Well young lady I like the cut of your jib!" (yes they were 99.9% womens blogs) And actually that's not what I thought, that's a quote from Blackadder. But I did think something along similar lines.

On that handful I left a comment on the latest or a newish post just to say hi, that I had enjoyed the blog etc.

I had replies from 2. One of whom is apparently too far away to develop into a real life friend- because that's what I am after- which is a bummer because I liked her best- good taste in music, art, and a more realistic voice than some others I read. And one who probably replied because I showed an interest in her handmade bags (very pretty) and because I asked a question. She's very nice too... I just have to find the time to get back to her blog and read some more.

I have had many thoughts about this friendship quest that I am on. A lot that I'd like to talk about here but it requires some upfront honesty and that's gotten harder and harder the more I have blogged. A lot of people I know in real life read this blog... friends, family... maybe even ex-friends. And while it's easy to share a degree of intimacy with the faceless masses it gets a little harder when you have to face one of the masses every morning when you wake up. :-)

In the past every so often I've written posts where I've spread the softer side of my soul across the pixels, I've written about hard stuff and hurts- and I get amazing replies both through the comments and in my emails. These, while lovely, leave me feeling decidedly uncomfortable. I'm an independent sort of a person and not looking for sympathy or even empathy- I don't want people to feel badly for me, sometimes I think they feel even worse for me than I am feeling myself. It makes me recoil a bit, retreat- I'm not sure why.

I'm also scared. Scared that if I say what I really think, what I've seen from my perspective, and what I feel about life, the universe, and everything. That those whose view the same life but from the other side of the fence may take issue with what I say. And that is worse than the empathy- way worse. Because while making someone feel sad for me is uncomfortable, making someone feel mad at me sends me scuttling fast back up behind the walls of pretty pictures of sweet babies, crazy four year olds and pretty flowers.

And that's not what I need right now, and that's not what I need my blog to be right now. I need to talk to someone. And really there is no one here in real life to talk to. So it has to be you. And it might be hard. And it might be ugly. And it might be sad. But I just need you to listen.

That's all. Please just listen, don't talk.