Is it a Confession if You Tell Everyone . . . ,

but no one knows who you are?

Certainly that may be the fun in blogging.
In fact the Internet is a weird mixture of exhibitionism and anonymity.

I have been thinking about levels of intimacy lately. Like the Internet I am a weird Myers-Briggs case. I may appear to those who meet me in town, know me at work, or are second or third-tier friends as an Extroverted sort. I have, however, a shadow Introvert who few see.

My Extrovert came out to play yesterday at the garage when I realized that the mechanic and I had both just attended the same funerall. I'm just chatting him up about his loss in a Mayberry Way while my sensible husband is having a Larry-Davidesque (as he later described it) reaction over this mixture of business and social.

I told him later over subs that encounters like that are why I love living in a small town. I have moved my entire life, and now I enjoy the social dance of at least pretending that my life is more entangled than it really is with the bank teller who goes to the Methodist church or the bag boy who is a former student.

I don't really think these people are going to invite me into their homes. This is The South. I was born in the region but not raised in this town, and I work at The College and so does my husband. They do not know my Momma nor my Husband's Daddy. I'm not a Carpet Bagger because of my accent, but I am a Forever Foreigner.

But despite my love of starting conversations with the woman who takes my payment at Georgia Power, in reality I have a strong introverted streak that few recognize or understand when they see glimpses.

I have good social camouflage, and I think this liminal distribution between extrovert and introvert makes me a bit Deanna Troi-like (save the Spandex and lip-liner).

Being an empathy sponge at work and in relationships can, however, make me sometimes too soaked.

Lately with work challenges, my best friend living 64 miles away (which I know is great in academia but still), and the ever-shifting sands of socializing, especially as a newly-married, I find I am detaching and observing the interactions of others. Despite my Troi-ness and my extroverted-ness, there is sometimes a significant disconnect between what I am comfortable in doing or sharing from what another friend may share with me (and anyone else within earshot). Other times I imagine a much closer relationship then I realize the other person is just waiting for his or her turn to speak.

My BFF once said there should be grad-school-to-work programs. So much time in The Academic Bubble World often makes it difficult for people to cope in the so-called Real World. Add to the complication that I work in Academia and the social expectations and interactions have shades of grad school intensity and that even when I am aware of this I too fall into those intense expectations of others.

Can we really ever know another person? OK before I get all Sartre-y on you Dear Reader, I think we can come close with a spouse, best friend, parent, or sibling. Perhaps it's commitment, DNA, past shared experiences; no Single-serving Friends are needed. Real intimacy is part time and part trust.

And to get this, I must know you and you must know me.
So I leave you with a strange phenomenon, what sparked this post.
Post Secret:
http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

Fascinating, but is even a portion of these anonymous confessions real, and even if they are all real, isn't it just a double helix of voyeurism and exhibitionism? This site, like much of what I have recently observed and myself done, perhaps these are all parts of the Post-Postmodern world of surface where most do not hear you; they are just waiting for their turn to talk.