Grrrr. . .

It's Saturday morning after a very long, stressful week and a half.
I was up until past eleven last night hanging out with my daughter, since we hadn't seen each other all week.

Why am I wide awake at 6:40am?
(And have been for the past forty minutes?)

I'm doing some LJ and email, and then will head back to bed.

In the meantime, I had another "violating boundaries" dream -- but this time I was the violator. In a quiet, unintentional way.

I had been walking and evidently I had been so lost in thought that I had inadvertently crossed the border from the US into Canada. I looked up and suddenly realized that the road and landscape around me weren't familiar and there were red maple leaves everywhere.

The border station was behind me, so I turned around, hurried back, and went inside, hoping that they would let me cross back into my own country again, for I had no ID, no passport, and nothing like a good excuse.

But the woman who heard my story was sweet and compassionate, and helped me out. So did bookchick, who for some reason was working in their storeroom. Eventually they got me onto a tour bus (or car) that was heading back into the U.S.

Evidently some part of myself is a bit nervous about the potential newness in my life in one or more of several areas.

Too Easy

My dream interpretation below was too easy. Yes, I think it means what I wrote earlier about misgivings about venturing into new territories -- but it also reflects a suddenly very immediate concern about inadvertently violating the boundaries of others.

It's about LJ.

When I started this journal, I expected it would be a place where I would be totally anonymous, and could share anything without worrying about the impact on my personal life. I didn't have my location or age on my Info Page. I tried to avoid any detail that might connect someone back to me.

As time passed, and a wonderful community began to gather here, I lost a lot of that need to stay totally anonymous. At least a third of my LJ-only friends, and perhaps more (I haven't counted) know my real name, have corresponded with me and/or spoken on the phone. I've met some people face-to-face, and added other new offline friends and acquaintances to my Friends list. I am no longer anonymous.

But it goes beyond a formal revelation of my offline identity. Anyone who has read this journal regularly knows me, even if you don't know my name or haven't connected with me outside my journal. I am truthful here, and I connect with those of you who come here as authentically as I can, often with my heart as well as my mind.

This is no longer a journal. It's a salon. A place where some wonderful, often fascinating, people come to visit and engage in conversation that does range "from the sublime to the ridiculous." And you know each other too, even if you don't know real names. I see you in other friends' salons. You comment on each other's comments.

So what happens when things start happening in my personal life with people on LJ? Or when people I know on LJ start to become so much a part of my life that they know my household? I once thought that a screen name was an effective identity cloak. It's not. If I write about something personal involving LJ-Friend-Fill-in-the-Blank, I'm talking about someone in your community, even if you aren't friends/Friends. Someone you know, and could know better just by clicking an icon on their journal.

I hadn't realized until LJ how much of an exhibitionist I was. I think it comes from a lifelong desire to be deeply known, especially through writing. I've kept journals since elementary school, and I've always assumed that one day they would be read by those who cared about me (if nothing else, after my death). And LJ has not disappointed me in this regard. Or rather: it surprised me by meeting a need that I had never fully acknowledged to myself.

But I don't live in isolation.
It may be "my story" when I tell it, but suddenly I'm aware that the stakes may be higher than I had realized for the other people involved, in some circumstances.

I do not want to -- as I did in my dream -- blunder thoughtlessly across the boundary, violate the privacy of my friends.

I'm going to have to be much more deliberately conscious about what I write here, use more and different filters, and check in regularly with those who are closest to me.

But, as I pause before I click the "update journal" button, I have to smile, because in some ways this is a good problem to have. It means I have friends here who have made this feel like a very safe space, a place where I can speak freely and honestly without fear of judgement or mockery. And I have friends with whom I will be doing/saying things of such intimacy and signficance that I need to be careful with how I handle that which has been entrusted to me. And those are Good Things.

Tattoo You?

According to This news article, 24 percent of Americans between 18 and 50 are tattooed.

The article goes on to state: "The survey also found that what your mother may have told you about who has tattoos is true: People who drink, do drugs, have been jailed or forgo religion are more likely to be tattooed. The same holds for piercings, though rates do not appear to vary with education, income or job category. In that sense, they appear to be 'different animals,' said Laumann, who has traditionally pierced ears but no tattoos.

I've considered a tattoo from time to time, with a dragon or a bear paw being at the top of my list. I don't know where I'd put a tattoo, except that I would want to be able to easily conceal it because I like to be able to pass as mundane. I've also thought that at such time as I get to my chosen weight I would pierce my navel and get a light chain to go around my waist, just to help remind me.

Anyone want to talk story about their body art? Or lack thereof?