;)
Thursday
Aug062009
If My Mother Tells Me To Stop Playing With My Latte, Does That Mean I Have To Make A Commitment?
Thursday, August 6, 2009 at 11:28AM
I am continually in the process of deciding whether or not to out my Super Secret Alter Ego on this blog. Like the other day, I was quoted in one of those big, people in Volgograd have heard of it, way over my reading level news sources but I can't tell you about it because A) they quoted me, not Mr Lady and B) they used the one and only boring, responsible line I'd rattled off during the most brilliantly witty 10 minutes I've ever spent on the phone. And then today some other big-shit news broadcasting company had me in their studio to talk about the original quote. And how I danced and danced around whom I may or may not pretend to be on the internet with them.
Because I'm just not entirely comfortable with people reading this blog yet.
I mean, it's not like I mind you reading it. You're fantastic, and I love your shoes. And to you, I am a few black letters hammered out onto a white template with an astonishingly copyright-breaking background. I'm a few pixels crammed together into a 4X6 space on the internet. I am a transgender myth. I am no one. When you close your screen, I go away and I don't come back until you do. And I like it that way. I like the total lack of commitment that keeping this blog brings with it. I can't let you down, you'll never be disappointed or shocked or outraged, not truly, because I don't exist.
And so I keep typing. Truth is, I'm still not anywhere near used to the fact that anyone but the 10 people who've always read it do. I try to not look at my stats, because I just don't need that sort of reality in my fake plastic life. I like to pretend that I'm still talking to myself, and that I am the only one listening, and that way I can just say whatever the hell I want and laugh at myself next year for being so obtuse and no one is the wiser.
But you are the wiser, aren't you? You are there, you do read this piece of crap blog and you listen and you laugh at me tomorrow, because it doesn't take you a year to see what a screw-up I am. The question is, do I want my mother in law to be the wiser? The answer is hell no. Do I want my constant daily companions, my friends and neighbors, to know all of this, this other side of me that is firmly lodged in the realm of misperception? I don't know the answer to that.
A few weeks ago, one of my neighbors got me trah-rashed and got my blog url out of me. He is an actual, real, respectable and published author and hasn't really said whether or not he's skeeved out of his skin over my blog just yet. He did say that you know your way around a sentence, Mr. Lady, and I think it's fairly safe to say that I've never, ever been so flattered in my whole life and also, it's so veryvery wrong that I found that statement to be ohmygodso hot. It's a character flaw; I'm working on it.
A few days ago, one of my other neighbors found me on twitter. I don't know if he was looking or not, but somehow he found me. And it turns out, he'd read my blog before he was my neighbor, he just didn't put two and two together until the whole Great Twitter Debacle of 2009. We saw each other out front yesterday, and for a fleeting moment his alter-ego saw my alter-ego and those alter-egos looked at each other like you look at the guy the morning after and wonder, "Um, name? Name, dammit, name. Also, where the fuck is my bra?"
But you know what? It was over right then, and we were back to normal. Luke and Shannon, chasing their kids, watching them play Sonic the Hedgehog together, talking about sunburns and popsicles and crap. The world did not end. The universe did not open up and swallow me whole. My neighbors don't think any less of me, that they're admitting, and I am not quite as mortified as I'd imagined I'd be when this all started to come out.
Because I know it's going to come out eventually. I'm not an idiot. Well, not totally.
There's no reason I don't want my mother in law to read this blog. I think she might actually enjoy it, once she got over the fact that I've lied to her for five years about how I know this person or where I met that person or why I keep scuffling off to conferences when, last time she checked, stay at home moms didn't host nation-wide conferences for each other. Though they should.
My husband has told his best friend, his boss, his boss' boss, his boss, the bartender and his old girlfriend who is, in her own right, a very big deal on the internet. And most all of them will still look me in the eye on occasion. I, however, am having a hard time reciprocating.
I'm pretty sure my own mother has already found this blog. I can't be certain, but the odds are really high. I know my little brother has found it, though he's never mentioned it to me, but he's not mentioned anything to me in 17 years, so I can't fault him too much for not delurking. And you know what? I stopped caring. I stopped going out of my way to hide from them a few months ago, and if they read it, they read it. If it hurts my mother, well, quid pro quo, bitch. I'm still fairly certain that I don't want my father and step-mother reading it, not just yet, but I've only got so long on that one because my older brother is quite literally Mr Lady's biggest fan and he Will Not Stop linking my shit on Facebook. Hi, Karen and Ed! Really, don't read the archives. You'll disown me. Oh, wait....
I worry about my children. That is probably the most hypocritical thing I'll ever say, seeings as how I have this penchant for plastering their sweet, innocent faces all over the internet, but it's true, and maybe because of that. I could tell you my last name and my real location and that probably wouldn't affect me too much, but then I'm telling you their last names and real locations and that certainly does affect the shizznit out of them. They don't have a blog, they didn't ask for this, and is it really in my right to hand them over to the internet that way?
Or is that the world's greatest excuse for being a big fat chicken shit who likes to hide behind avatars?
Because the truth of the matter is that, while Mr Lady is loud and assertive and unabashed, Shannon is quiet and cripplingly shy and demure and she really, really enjoys her privacy. Hell, it took her three years to tell her spouse she had a blog, at all. And they, she and I, we? Are two completely different people. Fortunately, I'm just crazy enough to be able to compartmentalize these two facets of my existence and play one roll when need be, then switch back to the other personality when it's time. Systemic childhood abuse? Blogger Prep School.
So I have all of this swirling around in my head this morning at butt-fuck o'clock this morning and I swing into Starbucks so I can, well, exist, and I put the orange mocha frappuccino they hand me into the cup-holder and lo and behold, this is what glared back at me the entire drive home:
That says:
And then is says it again in French. I got bitch slapped in two different languages, for the lowlow price of $4.95 + GST, PST, and the carbon tax, and I'm still not quite awake yet.
But I am in the Wall Street Journal and on CBC's radio show and webpage. And that's as close to this closet door as I'm able to come today. Now please excuse me; I have to go throw up.
Because I'm just not entirely comfortable with people reading this blog yet.
I mean, it's not like I mind you reading it. You're fantastic, and I love your shoes. And to you, I am a few black letters hammered out onto a white template with an astonishingly copyright-breaking background. I'm a few pixels crammed together into a 4X6 space on the internet. I am a transgender myth. I am no one. When you close your screen, I go away and I don't come back until you do. And I like it that way. I like the total lack of commitment that keeping this blog brings with it. I can't let you down, you'll never be disappointed or shocked or outraged, not truly, because I don't exist.
And so I keep typing. Truth is, I'm still not anywhere near used to the fact that anyone but the 10 people who've always read it do. I try to not look at my stats, because I just don't need that sort of reality in my fake plastic life. I like to pretend that I'm still talking to myself, and that I am the only one listening, and that way I can just say whatever the hell I want and laugh at myself next year for being so obtuse and no one is the wiser.
But you are the wiser, aren't you? You are there, you do read this piece of crap blog and you listen and you laugh at me tomorrow, because it doesn't take you a year to see what a screw-up I am. The question is, do I want my mother in law to be the wiser? The answer is hell no. Do I want my constant daily companions, my friends and neighbors, to know all of this, this other side of me that is firmly lodged in the realm of misperception? I don't know the answer to that.
A few weeks ago, one of my neighbors got me trah-rashed and got my blog url out of me. He is an actual, real, respectable and published author and hasn't really said whether or not he's skeeved out of his skin over my blog just yet. He did say that you know your way around a sentence, Mr. Lady, and I think it's fairly safe to say that I've never, ever been so flattered in my whole life and also, it's so veryvery wrong that I found that statement to be ohmygodso hot. It's a character flaw; I'm working on it.
A few days ago, one of my other neighbors found me on twitter. I don't know if he was looking or not, but somehow he found me. And it turns out, he'd read my blog before he was my neighbor, he just didn't put two and two together until the whole Great Twitter Debacle of 2009. We saw each other out front yesterday, and for a fleeting moment his alter-ego saw my alter-ego and those alter-egos looked at each other like you look at the guy the morning after and wonder, "Um, name? Name, dammit, name. Also, where the fuck is my bra?"
But you know what? It was over right then, and we were back to normal. Luke and Shannon, chasing their kids, watching them play Sonic the Hedgehog together, talking about sunburns and popsicles and crap. The world did not end. The universe did not open up and swallow me whole. My neighbors don't think any less of me, that they're admitting, and I am not quite as mortified as I'd imagined I'd be when this all started to come out.
Because I know it's going to come out eventually. I'm not an idiot. Well, not totally.
There's no reason I don't want my mother in law to read this blog. I think she might actually enjoy it, once she got over the fact that I've lied to her for five years about how I know this person or where I met that person or why I keep scuffling off to conferences when, last time she checked, stay at home moms didn't host nation-wide conferences for each other. Though they should.
My husband has told his best friend, his boss, his boss' boss, his boss, the bartender and his old girlfriend who is, in her own right, a very big deal on the internet. And most all of them will still look me in the eye on occasion. I, however, am having a hard time reciprocating.
I'm pretty sure my own mother has already found this blog. I can't be certain, but the odds are really high. I know my little brother has found it, though he's never mentioned it to me, but he's not mentioned anything to me in 17 years, so I can't fault him too much for not delurking. And you know what? I stopped caring. I stopped going out of my way to hide from them a few months ago, and if they read it, they read it. If it hurts my mother, well, quid pro quo, bitch. I'm still fairly certain that I don't want my father and step-mother reading it, not just yet, but I've only got so long on that one because my older brother is quite literally Mr Lady's biggest fan and he Will Not Stop linking my shit on Facebook. Hi, Karen and Ed! Really, don't read the archives. You'll disown me. Oh, wait....
I worry about my children. That is probably the most hypocritical thing I'll ever say, seeings as how I have this penchant for plastering their sweet, innocent faces all over the internet, but it's true, and maybe because of that. I could tell you my last name and my real location and that probably wouldn't affect me too much, but then I'm telling you their last names and real locations and that certainly does affect the shizznit out of them. They don't have a blog, they didn't ask for this, and is it really in my right to hand them over to the internet that way?
Or is that the world's greatest excuse for being a big fat chicken shit who likes to hide behind avatars?
Because the truth of the matter is that, while Mr Lady is loud and assertive and unabashed, Shannon is quiet and cripplingly shy and demure and she really, really enjoys her privacy. Hell, it took her three years to tell her spouse she had a blog, at all. And they, she and I, we? Are two completely different people. Fortunately, I'm just crazy enough to be able to compartmentalize these two facets of my existence and play one roll when need be, then switch back to the other personality when it's time. Systemic childhood abuse? Blogger Prep School.
So I have all of this swirling around in my head this morning at butt-fuck o'clock this morning and I swing into Starbucks so I can, well, exist, and I put the orange mocha frappuccino they hand me into the cup-holder and lo and behold, this is what glared back at me the entire drive home:
That says:
The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to the rest of your life.
And then is says it again in French. I got bitch slapped in two different languages, for the lowlow price of $4.95 + GST, PST, and the carbon tax, and I'm still not quite awake yet.
But I am in the Wall Street Journal and on CBC's radio show and webpage. And that's as close to this closet door as I'm able to come today. Now please excuse me; I have to go throw up.
Reader Comments (150)
first! wait... what the HECK!? you're in the WSJ??? where? I wanna read!
Congratulations! That's big news, no doubt...you've clearly earned the exposure.
And you know what they say: "The only way three people can keep a secret is if two of them are dead." I don't know what the saying is when its like 10,000 people, but I imagine the general concept is the same.
Now stop reading this comment and go punch a paparazzi photographer out in front of your house. There's no such thing as bad press.
@Jenny, dude, no way I'm giving up that link. Baby steps off the bus, sister...
@Matt, take most of those zeros off, and you have a point.
Since I'm operating on 4 hours of sleep (thanks to lying teenage son for his escapades last night) it took me more than a few seconds to realize that your Starbucks witty saying on your cup CAME IN FRENCH ALSO. I'm jealous. California Starbucks witty sayings only come in English. Sigh.
I'm also a tad starstruck that your husband's old girlfriend founded TWOP. One of my favorite places to get my fill of Craig Ferguson's news. I actually got bounced from Twop a few months ago for going on and on about Mr. Ferguson's marriage to a girl who could pass for his daughter (20 yr age gap). Sheesh. 7 degrees or what.
I'm stealing your butt-fuck o'clock phrase when I confront (re: yelling and screaming and shit) the teen this afternoon when he rolls in from work and we get to "talk" about his consequences to his coming home at 1a.m, instead of his agreed upon 9p.m. Finding out he drove to the middle of nowhere at night in my husband's truck by seeing it post on my Facebook page was just the icing on this cake that took a crap on my computer screen last night.
I'm not handling the parenting your teen gig so well right now. Makes me think wistfully of those terrible 2 years with almost (I said almost) a silly sad fondness.
See, I can't post with 4 hrs of sleep. Fuckall.
Love,
Julie
I blog as me. It hasn't cost me any family members, friends or neighbors. I don't say anything on there that I wouldn't say to anyone's face. I do it because I like to talk about the funny shit that happens to me on a daily basis and I'm pretty sure, in my own little mind, I am the only one who lives like that.
That given, our blogs are two totally different spaces. While I would LOVE to tell the world about my mother-in-law living in nudie camp and the picture I just found of my straight-laced father snorting coke with a pound of hash on the table, I choose not to.
I comment on your blog and enjoy your privacy for my own sounding board.
I would have liked to have spent time with you at BlogHer, but I skirted off once realizing that you weren't the same Mr. Lady. It wasn't because I would have preferred her, but feeling like I was invading the personal space that is the true author.
It turns out that Pittsburgh is a very, very small town, so no matter how coy and clever I think I am, I still continuously run into people who have read or do read my site. It's never caused any sort of real drama, even when I have written some things that aren't totally flattering about my MIL and she read them. I guess it helps that I am careful to only write things that I would say to someone's face.
There is this weird thing currently going on where I KNOW one of the moms from dance class has read the site, but she refuses to just admit it when I go fishing for confirmation. Dude, if you know my bedroom has an awful red paint job, I know you've seen photos. Why not just say it? WEIRD.
"Giant Squid Washes Up On Vancouver Island"???
And I just panicked because I stupidly joined facebook and I had the sudden realization that a lot more people in real life might possible read my blog. God, I am such a chickenshit.
I'm not ready. I was once there and it hurt when I fell. Now it's kinda secret again and I'm very happy with that.
Also, it scares me just how very similar we are. I could cry it's so striking and beautiful. Love you.
@Julie, when that happened to my brother, my mom didn't wait up for him...she had one of the elders of our church come wait up for her.
I'm totally going to remember that one for 3 years from now. Also, I guess I better join a church or something.
@Amo, come here. Really, lean WAY in; I have a secret for you.... *SMACK*
Next time, intrude. Badger. Harrass. Stalk. Whatever. I would have LOVED to have met you!
@Mr Lady, except I DID meet you, huh? And you so totally DID skirt off. Sometimes, it takes me a second. :)
The crazy thing about this post is that I am as conflicted as you. I am mostly "out" in the blogging world, as in most of my readers know who I am and I use my kids' real first names (but never their or my last names) and I occasionally have some indication of my geography. And I wish I had done it your way. I wish that I didn't write all of my posts knowing that my mommy (whose approval I will always want desperately, despite the fact that she has never disapproved) will be reading. And my high school best friends, and my first love who got me drunk and broke my heart. I don't wanna piss anybody off and that's always in my head and I always have to combat it.
On the other hand, I'm not you. I'm not super-famous internet royalty. The WSJ does not quote me. And if it did, I would sure as fuck want everyone and their bitchy little dogs to know it. And I think that it is kinda liberating not having to keep my identity a secret. I mean, that just seems tiring.
So, best of luck. I think you kick ass no matter who you are.
@Burgh Baby, yeah, we only know my little brother knows about this blog because he'll, very occasionally, mention something about me to my older brother that he could ONLY know about if he'd read my blog. WHY NOT JUST SAY IT???
Also, red walls? RAWR.
@Shelley, these tears? Laughter, followed by joy. That was BRILLIANT.
@Kori, that's why I'm not friends with ANY blog people on Facebook, and I'm nearly impossible to search.
@Karen Sugarpants, well, duhr. :)
Funny, you're thinking about revealing yours and I'm thinking about going underground. There are many people that I work for (long story, but lots of pastor-types) that know of my real blog, and it makes it really hard to blog about job search or bitch about my moron of a boss. (Really, he used "Git-R-Dun" in a very serious staff meeting as a "plan" for how to accomplish something. Ugh.)
Anyway - best of luck on your decision. Hope your neighbor reads about how you're standing up for the children of your neighborhood and ignores all of the BJ jokes...
@Mr Lady, to the similar part, not the love part. Keep that shit coming, and I'll keep giving it back. *smooch*
@Jessi, dude, let me address on thing. BWAHAHAHAHAHA! I am so much further from internet royality, you don't even know. And I want to STAY that way.
The WSJ didn't even know I had a blog. Right place, right time, nothing more.
Now, back to you. I am REALLY glad the way I've grown this blog, with almost no accountability. But now, maybe it's time to grow up? Maybe it's time to keep myself honest? I don't know, and that's my dilemma.
@RobMonroe, read his twitter stream {@lukeinvan} I think I'll get more milage with the latter.
@Mr Lady,
The red walls? Will leave you limper than a floppy fish in no time. There be no sexy going on in that room. Stupid previous owners. (http://www.theburghbaby.com/2009/07/part-3-looooove-story.html)
@Mr Lady, Only cause I love you, babe. Plus I'm a terrible investigator, apparently. Your secret is safe with me. Or, I guess it would be if I was smart enough to figure it out. Until then, I will always think of you when I hear the phrase, "giant squid."
Just as long as you don't out your porn site. MrLadyNaked.com is my favorite dirty little secret.
@Mr Lady, I understand what you're saying and I get that, but I think if there is going to be a place where you can not grow up and be all Peter Pan, then it should be the internet. But, if you want to grow up, then that's cool, too. I guess that's the thing. It's liberating to be incognito and it's liberating to be wholey yourself. It's hard to keep a secret and it's hard to have none. It sucks to grow up and it sucks to stay a kid. It's easy to say do what makes you happy, but probably everything does sometimes and nothing does all the time. Also, I know the point wasn't tell-me-what-to-do and I'm really, really not trying to do that, although I feel kinda like I am. I'm just saying I'm on the other side and I can't make it a secret now and I sometimes wish I could.
I even started a second blog - a secret blog that I told no one about. I was so crafty and secret agent like and now my mom reads it and I haven't posted in two weeks, 'cause what's the point.
I wish my mother never found my blog as it totally forces me to censor myself in various ways. Sometimes I also wish no one I know in real life ever found it but alas, they did. I didn't exactly do a good job of keeping it secret. As long as my office stays in the dark I should be alright as I tend to bash on my big boss from time to time. Being insanely shy and non-confrontational in the real world myself, I understand your fears for people finding out who you are online.
Whatever happens or whatever you decide, I just hope you are comfortable with it. Also I hope it doesn't change the way you write because I enjoy the way you put your sentences together.
I certainly understand the need for privacy, it's why, for the most part, I have a super duper pooper secret place I hide now with a fake name and everything for my innermost ramblings. But I'm confused, are you saying you're someone you're not? Are your pictures fake? 'Cus I'm pretty sure in that keynote at blogher last year you were the same person that appears on this blog? Have I just not had enough coffee today?
@Jessi, nah dude, I put it up here so you could add your input. I need to hear what it's like on the other side. Redneck Mommy told me fuck no, don't come out, but Lolita Carrico said hell yes, do it. So, yeah, I want to know what you all think on this one, really. I APPRECIATE your thoughts. :)
@Natalie, no, baby, it's me. It's just two different sides, you know? Like Professional Shannon and housewife Shannon. Two different people. Mr Lady just gets more leverage.
Go get another latte. And read the quip. It might change your life. :)
@Avitable, the very thought of forcing you to see me naked makes me weep for your soul, baby.
@Hockeyman, I'm glad you do, because my 7th grade English teacher would beat me with a plastic pig if he ever saw.
@Mr Lady, Haha, my grammar-nazi wife constantly huffs and gruffs over my lack of skills as well. However I like a natural prose in writing, I feel it flows easier when it seems more like conversation than literature. But thats just me...
@Mr Lady, I'd pay good money for that site. You could be the next Dooce, except naked and hot!
Blogging identity seems to be a popular topic lately. Not having any children I don't have to worry about protecting them. However, my full name is HIGHLY googleable. But Shireen is also an extremely popular name in Iran. So I just leave my last name out of it. Mainly b/c I don't need the folks at my job knowing about my Twitter account and my blog. My parents already read both, so I'm learning (slowly, slowly, slowly went the sloth) to write like they aren't.
Also, it's damn good to have you back from your fishing trip. :-)
I am geeking out over my original internet loves... Sars or Tara? Oh my, oh my.
This is really interesting to read as someone who just embarked on this whole blogging business, after deciding it's silly to continue suppressing that urge and craving the community. I haven't decided who to show it to, in real life... so far I've settled on "no one, just yet" and that'll just have to do, until I figure out if it's going to stick, and what exactly the differences are between Me and iMe.
@Just Shireen, writing like they aren't. It's tough, it really is. My bff http://wheremytruthlives.wordpress.com/" rel="nofollow">Marge is the one and only person I know who's truly pulled it off. And I envy her that.
Even I have people who read this who I feel I need to bite my tongue for. One of my dearest friends didn't talk to me for months over something on this blog, and that isn't worth it to me.
The answer? I don't know it.
PS: You have such sweet pillow talk. ;)
@susie, I didn't come out to anyone for an eternity, and I think it's a great way to start blogging. Once you're settled and you KNOW where you're going, then you'll know whom to share it with. Or so I think.
I completely get it. The only reason my husband found out about my dirty secret (my blog) was because I was going to Chicago. And then someone I work with found me on Twitter and told everyone else about it and when I came back, everyone was fucking mad at me for not sharing. Seriously.
How do you even bring that up?
Congrats on the WSJ and the other thing. I think you are a big deal.
@ZDub, I think that sucks, dude. Seriously, your WORK found your Twitter? Gah.
Also, I think you know you're wrong, and I think that's why we are friends. :)
I stumbled on your blog last year. It has truly become one of my favorite guilty pleasures and I fell into a funk when you went on vacation! You are a marvelous writer and your honesty is truly inspiring to me. Whether you "come out" or not, please dont stop blogging!!!!!
aw now you have shattered my illusions . I m not sure how I stumbled on your blog but it was possibly linked to parenting and then I was hooked by the thin lizzy and jack daniels connection . and then iIwas bowled over by your article about handling your wee boys teacher and then I was hooked reading the pieces and the comments . I had never seen any blog before then ....thought it would be as wrong to read as reading your childrens facebook or diary . So.. I decided some blogs ....were just people needing to off load and some ..eg yours ...were professional writers with professional photos skills with hired models and beautiful locations .. or offspring who could be models. ... who could hold the attention of a vast readership ..sell advertising space ...so it was as fair to read as it was to read any columnist in any newspaper or any magazine . I pay my internet connection , you do a good job writing and lots of other people contribute witty interesting comments ...everbody wins.!!I now am horror struck that you are not some slick professional and are having angst about your audience and your writing . ... I did wonder what you would do if your family or kids read it .!!... So PLEASE PLEASE ..put me out of the misery .....WRITE the BOOK ! .......
@Karen, oh god, that's like asking Paula Abdul to lay off the vicodin. You're stuck with me, suger.
@un, I let my kids read the posts about them, and that's it. It's no secret, though, and they will someday. I am totally at peace with that. My family? That's a different story, especially my inlaws.
And no, the only thing I do professionally is fuck my husband, and that's more of a "contractual" thing than a "professional" one. Though he does pay me in shoes and kitchen gadgets. Oh, and that eternal devotion bit is nice, too. ;)
@Mr Lady, and that comment is exactly why his momma dudn't need to be reading this thing. She might die.
I agree with Hockeyman: do what you feel comfortable doing, but don't stop writing the way you write. :)
And if either the Professional Shannon or Housewife Shannon ever make it across the border, I'll hang out with either of them. And buy them a Starbucks. Or a beer. Or both.
@Kate, or one for each? *wink*
I can certainly understand you wanting privacy for yourself and your children. I have a family-type blog that I've shared with everyone but I have contemplated starting another so that I could write whatever I want without worrying about who reads it. Right now, that's what I use Twitter for. Anyway, the whole reason I posted was to say that you come across in your blog as a truly amazing person and a fabulous writer regardless of what you are writing about. If I ever were to meet anyone who's blog I read, I would want it to be you. Blushing now... :)
@Elizabeth, AND SO AM I!
Is it any wonder why I love you so? I loved this.