i've never felt the need to share anything with people. nothing really. not feelings, not thoughts--other than the perfunctory ones (i.e. "how are you?" "good"; "hm, this year's a lot colder than the last")--not my writing nor frivolous personal details. there has always been an upper limit to how much i have been willing to reveal.
in the beginning of this year, i kept having this recurring dream where i would walk onto a dark plain and scream: about events that had happened, how i felt, trivial things no one knew about me, important things people never knew about me. at the end of this dream, the plain would always brighten, just slightly, and i would find myself in the center of a ring of people i didn't know. there was something comforting about this. in telling someone about this dream, i called the act within it public anonymity, for lack of a better term.
lately, also, i've been thinking a lot about cary grant. cary grant (nee blue-collar archie leash) once said "everybody wants to be cary grant. even i want to be cary grant." identity is so pliable yet so elusive. perhaps who we want to be and what we want is all a matter of reinvention yet the act of creation necessitates constant action to prove to everyone, even ourselves, that that's who we really are. it's a difficult task; cary grant built his whole career on trying to convince everyone that he was the classic hollywood gentleman but he always hid the fact that he was missing one incisor tooth.
so maybe that's what this is about: being open and being someone closer to my idea of myself or something vaguely like that. granted this means very little (it's a blog for chrissake!) but it's something and it's a start.
