Thursday, September 13, 2012

honesty hour. ooh!

Once upon a time, I got a lot of abusive comments on my blog from an anonymous someone. When I disabled anonymous, the someone set up a Blogger profile under the pen name “JackJones2010.” Maybe if I was very tech-savvy, I might have been able to trace the whereabouts, at least, of “JackJones2010” but, as it happened, all I could really do was cry and speculate about who hated me that much. I had some theories but I hardly wanted to believe my own suspicions. It seemed like the person leaving the hateful comments knew me personally and was consciously poking at my most vulnerable parts. If that abuse was being perpetrated by someone I knew, it would have hurt even more. And maybe it was just another internet troll and maybe I was unlucky. In any case, I still have some of the comments left un-moderated on my blog home page. Just in case. Just in case “JackJones2010” makes an unwelcome return.

The comments left by “JackJones2010” told me that I was deceiving myself and everyone I knew: I wasn’t as happy as I posted in my blog. According to “Jack,” I was in a relationship I didn’t want to be in, I was on the rebound from my ex, and I was only pretending to be happy. When I deleted one of the abusive comments, its successor read: “Delete delete delete. Show show show. SHAM SHAM SHAM.” At the time, I wrote it off as unintelligent bullying but now …

There are a couple of reasons why I go off the blogging radar sometimes. I’m busy, I’m depressed, I’m trying to sort my life out. Sometimes I’ll do depressed blogging but it’s not much fun for anyone really. It makes for dull reading and it’s not nearly as cathartic for me as it used to be. I used to write a lot about what was going on in my life – “Today I rang the grant office”; “I just texted a cute boy and I’m wondering if it will go anywhere”; “I’m thinking about buying this dress – what do you think?” Nowadays though, I’m very wary of posting anything that’s not already set in stone. I don’t post about clothes I want to buy because what if it turns out that I can’t afford them or I change my mind? I’d be embarrassed. I can’t talk about relationships in any meaningful or specific way because what if something goes wrong? There’s the details, the moment in time when I thought everything was lovely. What a fool! I’d be embarrassed.

In that way, JackJones2010 (the cunt!) was right. This is all a show. This is contrived to make me look a certain way. Interesting, quirky, smart, funny. See, I pride myself on being honest so I blog about farting and being bad at flirting and eating too many carbohydrates, but did I tell you that this summer I’ve taken to wetting the bed after I’ve had a few too many pints? Or that a boy once left skid marks on my white bed sheets? Or that I’m only now looking forward to Erasmus because everything is sorted – ticket, accommodation, induction? I’ve mentioned Erasmus before but I neglected the details because what if something changed? I’d be embarrassed.

So I tell you what I want to tell you. I tell you what I want you to know. I try to save face. I try to retain dignity – and it’s a lot easier to pretend like I still have “dignity” here on my blog than it is in reality, in The Strand or UL or sitting by the side of the road selling strawberries. (Did you know that I was earning approx. €3.89 an hour sitting by the side of the road selling strawberries? No, you didn’t. Because I’d be embarrassed.)

If it means anything to you, I hereby pledge to tell you all the gruesome details of my life. I can’t tell myself that my best quality is my honesty if in reality I’m telling half-truths and giving the impression that I’m middle-class and mostly polite. (My mother told me that I had to behave like a lady at my birthday party. I was enraged. Also, I spent a couple of days in Limerick telling people that I was getting my boob pierced and grabbing it aggressively. Such a lady!) Here’s to being a hybrid man/woman/girl/lunatic and being honest about it.

P.S. I’m not sweating half as much as I was. It may be an autumn thing or it may be a decreased dosage of Prozac thing but, either way, I’m happy. As happy as a girl can be with a slightly salty face.

1 comment:

  1. i think i love you a bit more everytime you make english happen.


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