All right, both phone and modem seem to be working now. Huzzah.

Got a message from Zeke (whose real name is Mike, but who was introduced to me, against his will I think, as Zeke and it took me forever to realize that that wasn't his name, and now he's stuck with it in my mind -- sorry, Zeke) saying he had Googled me and found this site. Very cool. I'm glad that something associated with me is starting to show up on Google, rather than just the minutes of one Chicago Headline Club meeting that I crashed and a pathetic time on a 5K walk I did several years ago. I would hate to think that was my only legacy.

Anyway, Zeke asked me this: Do you treat it like a public diary? Keep a private one too or is the public one enough? Which bring up an interesting conundrum, one that Newton was complaining about too: All the interesting stuff going on in your life and you write about the weather! Are you sure you're not British? But this is the thing: It is a public site. My parents read this site. My workmates read this site. My ex-boyfriends read this site. My friends read this site. And sometimes, I don't want to share what’s going on with me with all these people. If I could present customized (i.e., self-censored) versions to each person, then I'd be talking about a lot more stuff. But I can't so I don't. For example, I'm not going to give you my innermost thoughts on what's going on at work, because (1) they change, and (2) I still work there, and going on about my private feelings could possibly screw up my public function there.

The other thing that makes me uncomfortable about this puppy is that I don't want to worry anyone/burden anyone/insert your stodgy-Northern-European-justification for not sharing feelings here with my problems/foibles/whatever. And I know this can happen -- Sam stopped writing in one of his blogs, as it was where he dealt with a lot of the crappy stuff going on, he was being honest, not funny/perky, and people thought that he was way too depressed. They worried about him. He didn't want that to happen, so he stopped writing. Are things any less tough/scary/whatever in L.A.? Probably not. But we have no evidence of it, so it's all good now.

So why have a blog at all, if you're not going to share everything? Good question. In part, because it gets me writing daily (barring communications breakdowns, really late nights, etc.) and I need something like that. I went to school for journalism, I can write, I want to write, and I don't do enough of it. As Wendy remarked, I have an internal editor that will not shut up. (Except she swore! I made Wendy swear! She never swears! For some reason, I find this significant -- complimentary, even.) This at least gets the juices flowing again, in a low-pressure kind of way. Note: Low pressure, not no-pressure. No pressure means I don't do it. I know people are checking this out, so I make sure I post something every day (keeping in mind the above disclaimers). So it's good for me.

But, see, I have what I suspect is a pretty common writer's disease -- I'm a really private person about a lot of things, but I really like the sound of my own voice. I tend to think I'm funny, when I'm not thinking I'm pathetic. Or sometimes when I am thinking I'm pathetic. That, and I'm crap about writing letters to people. (I know, I know, I call myself a writer, but I can't even write e-mails to my friends. Yes, I am evil and must be destroyed. get over it.) This site at least lets folks know that I am, in fact, still alive. And I like to think that it makes the nightmare scenario of being dead for several days without anyone noticing a little less likely. (Don't laugh. There was a story in the Trib a few weeks ago about two guys who lived alone in little bungalows in nice neighborhoods next door to each other who had died and not been found for months, in one case, and years -- 4 years! -- in another because they were loners and no one really kept in touch with them. The neighbors just thought they'd let their yards go, or gone out of town for a long trip, or something like that, and they didn't want to pry. Yipe.)

So anyway, a long, long, answer to your question, Zeke -- and not, I might add, one that I wrote you back with ... see? I'm crap at writing people! -- this is like a public diary, but it's a self-censored one. So instead of writing about impending traumas or job fears or getting depressed or whatever, I cover.... house traumas. The weather. The weird infestation of fruit flies or mayflies or something that are hanging out in my kitchen and bathroom -- on my toothbrush! Ewwwww.... -- and the like. (If anyone knows how to get rid of said insects -- and no, I don't know what they are, they're tiny, they fly, I think they came in on some flowers or fresh herbs or something that I brought into the house -- please let me know.)

Also, I'm going to try in the next few days to post some stuff I've written that I can't tell whether is funny or pathetic (including the internal editor bit that made Wendy swear!). They're a bit more personal than house trauma and such, so we'll see how it goes.

Oh, and hi, Zeke. Boston is definitely on the list of places to visit, but I'm burning all my vacation in one go later on this year (Australia, mate!), and therefore won't be going anywhere else ‘til next year.