Sunday, August 26, 2007

Me and my Blog

This is not the first time that I’m blogging…nor is this my only blog page. I keep wondering why we all blog…..who’s going to read them anyway? Not only is this an anonymous blog, the author will also not ask anyone to read it. It doesn’t seem right, somehow, to write what you think is wonderful, then ask others to view it and comment upon it. It’s almost as if one is fishing for compliments, an idea that is wholly disagreeable.

No, this blog does not ask anything from anyone. What I’m attempting here is a blog that will be personal, something that will reflect my self, without being intrusive and overbearing. I’m not sure how successful I’ve been in the other two blogs. Because I’ve never attempted anything like this on blogger before. This account will be something like the diary I keep, except that all personal details will be thoroughly masked. For, anonymity is my chiefest ambition, and giving details of any sort will simply not do.

I want this space to reflect the life that I want to live, but dare not. This is me as I feel like being, definitely not what I am. And I want this space to be free from all the hypocrisies and the sham that life in the real world seems to be so full of….


  1. You may not be asking anyone to read what you write, but you do want someone out there to read, perhaps even understand, what you are saying.

    You liken your blog to a diary. One can either hide one's diary from people, or choose to show it to some people, or show it to everyone. The very fact that you publish your writings online means that you do wish them to be read; if not by the incomprehending many, then by the intelligent few.

    May I suggest this to be the answer to your question "why we all blog". This is why you blog, why the next person blogs. If not to be heard above the din of the mob (yes, that would be nice), then at least to have said what one feels should be said.

    It doesn't matter if it is an anonymous blog, like the faceless voice which is drowned out in the general cacophony. What matters is that you answered that call within you, urging you to speak your mind, however faint your voice may be.

    It is this same urge that gave birth to the arts: to painting, and music, and poetry, and sculpture. It is this same urge that prompts the school-boy to scratch his initials on a desk. "MD was here". We wish to leave something behind in this impermanent, changing world; something that lasts, if not forever then perhaps a little longer than we did; something that establishes my identity: "I" did exist. A tiny insignificant mark, analogous to our insignificant existence in this indifferent universe. But a mark, nonetheless. Undeniable.

  2. You have said so yourself: "I want this space to reflect the life that I want to live".

    You are establishing your identity. Your real identity, "free from all ... hypocrisies and ... sham".