The real me. The real you. Let's all just have a big party, shall we?

All right. Here we go. Watch out.

BAM.

So I've been thinking (really? How unusual) (I know, right?).

I like reading the blogs of my classmates, especially those I don't know well. Blogs are a place where you can let the real you spill out into the internet, where it can safely be viewed by all your friends, family, classmates, and your friendly neighborhood pedophiles. In all seriousness, though, not many people like reading or keeping blogs. Sometimes they can be long, tedious, and boring (coughcough I'm sorry, okay? I'm writing this for myself. Don't judge me) but often I find people like to write simple phrases in all lower case, attaching beautiful images of love or nature. To be honest, I actually really love these. I love reading the gorgeous poetry of my seemingly airhead acquaintances and seeing how they are actual people with worries they can show on their blog. The whole world is connected to the internet, but for some reason this fosters a sense of confidentiality. Similar to how everyone knows all of your personal business in a small town and you may never pass the same person twice in a big city, the vastness of the internet can make it easier for people to let out their sensitive inner selves. I personally like writing on the internet better than writing in a journal because I like having my voice heard, even if I don't advertise it. Just thinking that someone might read my blog makes me feel accomplished.

When I read these blogs or tumblrs, I sometimes feel like I want to start blogging like that. You know, start finding cute pictures and write more poetry. Sometimes I almost feel threatened by the blogs, because I think they are much better writers than myself and they are the super math/science geeks. If they can write better than me, than I clearly fail at life and need to go apply to NOVA. But writing skills aside, I could never switch to that style. The loud, crazy ones go home to their computers and type out their insecurities in tiny letters. Me? I spend enough time quiet in public. When I get to my laptop, I need to let it all OUT. I'm really not a quiet person, but my problem is that I care too much about what people think about me. Ergo, I tend to keep things to myself because I'm afraid they will think what I say is weird. This leads to mega ranting to my close friends and family, and of course, this blog. I think a lot. Thinking is literally one of my hobbies. When I'm bored, I grab my iPod and go for a walk around my neighborhood, letting my feet carry me while my mind travels miles and miles, all over the world. I write in my head often, and then I'll get to my computer and a half-written speech comes pouring out. I plan stories for people and retell them over and over again. To myself. I am always talking, just not always out loud.

Are people always the opposite on the inside? Would a person who was completely transparent be boring, or pure? Is simplicity pure, or is complexity? I love the word pure. I love the idea of purity and truth. This is a new idea I've had that stemmed from my love of Emily Dickinson poetry earlier this year. There is something beautiful about the simplicity of the tea ceremony, or the gentle notes of a piano cover, or the tiny lowercase letters of someone whispering their vague but deep fears to the internet.

I made my blog private for a day and then made it public again. I think people should see ourselves for who we really are, even if this person doesn't exist in daily life. That person shouldn't exist in daily life. We need an opposite side to ourselves, one that comes out only in the quietest, darkest moments. But I don't see why no one else can know that person.

So. Deep down, I'm a crazy, sometimes scary, sometimes angry, often excited beyond belief, often confused individual. Maybe you've met that person in real life. Or maybe not. Either way, that's who I am and that's who has been writing this blog for the past year. It's almost been a year since I've started and I think it was one of the greatest ideas I've ever had. So. So. SO. I need to stop writing this.

じゃね