divergent souls

As usual, in an attempt to procrastinate studying, I started blog hopping. First, a digression - why is it that even with only 17 pages left to read, I still can't buckle down? It's my last stretch of studying for the next six or seven weeks at least, and it's not even like they're 17 long, 14 sized pages of teeny tiny font. If I showed them to you, you'd probably mock me. Hell, I'm mocking myself. When I finally do get around to reading, I'll probably be done in half an hour, max. But nooo. Even though I really want to go to bed, instead of just getting it over and done with, I'm procrastinating. It's like the postcard my sister bought: Always put off till tomorrow what you could have done yesterday.

Anyway. As I was saying. I was blog hopping, and it got me thinking about how most of these people, are people I actually know, however superficially it may be, in real life. And how they must have no idea whatsoever that I'm reading about their lives. And that, got me thinking about what would happen if they read my blog. And that got me thinking about the people who I know for a fact do read my blog *cough* peeweewhostalkspeoplebutdoesn'thaveablogofherown *cough* sameformelandfarah *cough* andFionaandJeremywhodon'tupdate *cough* wow, really bad throat. Oh well. Guess I'll just have to drink more alcohol on Wednesday to kill the germs. The sacrifices I make. Sigh.

I'm really good at digressions, have you noticed? Anyhow. It's kind of odd, don't you think, how people can now know about your life before you get a chance to tell them, because they read it on your blog? Like how just yesterday, I was showing Nut pictures on my phone while waiting for dinner to be served (divine Rum&Raisin truffles at Coffee Club, by the way) and when I turned to show them to peewee, she responded with "I already saw it on your blog". (See what I mean? She's a stalker. Bloggers, beware this one.)

My point being - what if your blog is an escape for your inner split personality self? I know at least some of you must know what I'm talking about here. I thought I was the only one, till I started reading books beyond Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys (speaking of which, don't you think the entire Hardy Boys Case Files would be a WICKED present?) and Archies and.. you know, I never really got into Sweet Valley. Reading a lot, and being addicted to the Internet at a much too young age were probably the two best things I could have done for myself.

On one hand, I can probably put all my idiosyncrasies down to the addictions, but on the other hand, they were my only escapes, and they've showed me how to cope, and get through them. Could addiction be both the cause and the effect? Something else to ponder over, I suppose. I know that without them, I probably wouldn't have realised yet that it's not as uncommon as you'd think, to feel like two or more completely different people reside within yourself.

I read a blog on Friendster the other day (while procrastinating, of course) and broken English and lapses into Bahasa Indonesia aside, it was a wonderful read. He spoke of how he was two people, as far as he could remember he'd always been two people. When you're a child, you hold conversations with yourself, especially if you spent a lot of time growing up alone, and as life passes on, you gradually split away from yourself, till there's almost two distinct personalities. I can talk to myself all the time, I make for the best conversations I've ever had. Sometimes I interpolate others into myself, I've spent a lot of time this past week, for instance, talking to the boy in my head. It's not just saying things to him though, he responds, and we talk.

And that's just what this whole forking twining road of a rant was about. What if, your blog is a way of writing out your conversations to your other self, a record of the passing comments, just a random pick of the fleeting words that carry on day in and day out, even while you're asleep. What if, that's what your blog is, and people who know you, who love you in real life, who you may love back more dearly than the world itself - what if they don't understand that catharsis, have never seen more than just a glimpse of the rift(s) in your soul - what if they read this, how will they respond?

I suppose at the end of the day, it all just boils down to how they want to perceive you. God knows my perception of a blogger greatly depends on my frame of mind at that particular moment in time. If, like now, I'm floaty and tired and mentally-and-emotionally-purging, I find things beautiful, I see art in the ordinary. And if I'm feeling like a complete and utter cynical bitch, then I do what many people do. I say things like "what a fake, pseudo-intellectual strumpet!" (thanks for bringing that word to the forefront of my vocabulary, Mel) and I write the writer off as a wannabe, a tryhard, a should-die-hard.

I think this is all coming to me because I remember the day I was in school, studying with Doranne, Fiona and Alvin, and Fiona commented on how the way someone wrote in his blog was extremely different from the way he spoke in person. So thanks Fi, for the inspiration (you're my muse for the moment, speaking of which, have fun watching them in Jan!) and helping a poor helpless procrastinating undergrad get through the night before her final final. Tomorrow, the last paper, then shopping and pedicures and parties and good times await =)