blogging and morality. i have some questions.

my mother has decreed if ever i'm to date a man again (and one can hope) that i'm not to tell him i have a blog.

i think this foolish. after all, one google search of my name and it'd be all over.

my mother thinks men don't google.

i think in this era of facebook, they most certainly do google.

i've always been honest on my blog. but i do concede that it is my version of honest--my version of a truth. and therefore half the story (and admittedly a very skewed half).

and so my question is:

where is the line between what is our's to share and what belongs to someone else, even if they are inextricably bound to our own story?

where is the line between what we would write if the person in question were never to see it and between altering our content because of said person?

and as for dating:

is one to tell the guy about the blog?

should the guy then read the blog?

and what moral imperative is there for that guy to reveal the extent to which he reads it?

because it isn't a diary. it's a public forum. as i was recently reminded. and that's true.

my mother is so funny. the other night she told me that the moment i start editing my words for a guy i lose a little bit of myself. and then chastised that i should probably not write some of the things i do in the first place. this one-sided argument (on her end) ping-ponged across these two extremes for about five minutes before i, utterly confused, disentangled by telling her i'd call tomorrow.

someone recently asked why i choose to blog. what was the original impetus. and i said, well why does a person perform a play for an audience as opposed to alone, in their room?

but that's not really an answer. so here goes: i began the blog because it held me accountable. i didn't want to present an image of a person struggling with great sadness. the blog forced me to see things in a more positive light. reminded me to take things with a grain of salt and encouraged laughter. and as i cultivated those aspects of myself in my little corner of the internet they began to spill over into my life.

but as i find happiness, as life slowly comes back, how does one balance the line between privacy and truth?

me too. (a conciliatory action or peace offering of sorts).

sometimes i will have thoughts (little ones, easy ones--like go turn the coffee pot on) upwards of 15 times before it actually sticks long enough for me to do it.

i over think everything. i over analyze everything. i take ridiculous things personally.

and i sometimes give up too easily.

i am ashamed of nothing more than my ability to act selfishly.

i have no patience for people i consider less intelligent than myself. (this one hurts to ad

and am terrible at responding to emails.

i can't remember dates or appointments to save my life.

cultivating financial stability? what is that.

i will only eat bananas when they've been thinly-sliced and thoroughly saturated by the milk in my cheerio bowl. because other than that, i hate them. i hate their smell, their texture, the odor they leave in the garbage bin.

i am forever convinced that i've lost my keys or my wallet or my credit card. this leads to many an unnecessary moment of panic.

and i go quiet. i can't say what needs to be said. until it's too late. and then there's too much to say and the words i choose do more damage than good.

and i still can't cook.

i looked for obama. but i suppose he was, oh you know, kinda- busy with some important conference.

i had the most wonderful time spending monday and tuesday in washington d.c.

naomi, josh, and kingsley so kindly welcomed me into their home.

we picnicked in the park, cruised around town in the bug, headed to the docks for live crab, spoke about beliefs, visited the national gallery, carefully dissected cupcakes, (josh even attempted to illuminate the male mind for me).

but mostly naomi and i did what girlfriends do. we talked. at our picnic. in the car. meandering through museums. with mouths full of frosting (me).

and i returned to new york feeling new again.

it's funny that for as long as i've known naomi--as long as i've watched her grow and change and fall in love, and build a life, i am still constantly surprised by the depth of her goodness. because the thing is, it just keeps going.

naomi, josh: thank you for showing me d.c., making me laugh, and for filling me up with such love.

d.c.

it's funny how a little time and distance, a lot of girl talk, and (just a few) cupcakes provides that long sought after perspective.

thank goodness for early week getaways and a better friend than i could ever dare ask for.

lot's wife

on our first date i wore a navy scalloped skirt. i wore makeup. eye-makeup. concealer, even, which would have been a great comfort to my mother.

and i thought, what am i doing? i was so nervous. but so damn excited.

i entered the restaurant and asked the girl at the front desk if there was a man waiting for anyone. she pointed to the other side of the u-shaped counter in the bar.

i exhaled. audibly.

i had met him only two nights before and while i knew i thought him attractive then, i couldn't remember what he looked like. i feared i wouldn't recognize him. wouldn't be able to pick him out of a crowd.

but there he was. sitting at the bar. and yup, he was cute.

and god i loved how i felt as i walked toward him.

i always loved how i felt walking toward him.

it was the walking away that was hard.

when i called to tell him that i couldn't do it anymore i tried to make it very clear that it was not that i didn't want to. i just couldn't continue in this fashion. and oh how i listened for the moment of hesitation on his side, for the moment that he would fight me. fight for me.

it did not come.

but i had his book. and he had my earring. and such things needed to find their way home.

i offered that he leave it on his stoop and i would carry out the trade. he said such a thing was ridiculous. we could get a drink. be adults about this.

but somehow the drink didn't happen. and because technically it was i who chose to end things, i swallowed this and accepted the short window he provided in which to do essentially what i had suggested in the first place.

i found myself swallowing a lot over the course of our brief courtship. and never failed to be surprised (even in how it ended) by the extent to which he could disappoint me.

my mother told me to let the earring go. to just let it go. ask him to put it in the mail, realize he probably wouldn't and make peace with that.

but the thing was, he had all my secrets. i'd be dammed if he got the earring too.

and so i went. and bumbled there at the bottom of his doorstep for about two minutes.

and then i walked away. and never have i understood the story of lot's wife so well. we look back because we want to know that we're not alone. and oh how i didn't want to be alone. but i didn't. look back, that is. i gathered every remaining shred of self-worth and dignity and walked away without turning around.

(and cried as i did so).

i know i did the best possible thing. the relationship was unequal and unhealthy. he was selfish and i was overzealous. he was not the right guy, and i was not the right girl. and so i walked away. and i didn't look back.

and yet i wished all the while that he'd come up from behind, take my hand, and say let's try just a little bit harder for just a little bit longer.

because for each of his flaws i have my own. i know this.

but he did not.

i lack imagination. in life, i mean. i can't ever imagine things changing. or meeting someone else. and yet i know these things to be certain--more certain than anything else. but my horse-blinders are big, dark and all-encompassing.

perhaps the thing to remember here is that in walking away from him, i am walking toward someone else.