||[Aug. 3rd, 2005|12:10 am]
Sometimes I wonder if the presense of the internet destroys the chances of prophets. In older days, for a prophet to be heard, they were heard in a small community, and they were listened to. They became a big fish in a small pond, so they moved to a bigger pond. They grew bigger and bigger, so they moved to bigger and bigger ponds. They earned the audience of everyone that listened to them, and their reputation spread. They worked hard to be heard.
Now there's the internet, the biggest pond of all. And if they want to speak they need nothing but a livejournal account. Of course, the next step would be for them to be heard. Can they be heard amongst all the little ramblings of everyone who posts here? Can anyone find their signal in all this noise of the internet? Probably not. And if they do, fair play to them. But somehow I think that even if someone finds little pearls of wisdom as to how the world works, or how to live a good life it'll be lost among all the other voices that everyone else acquired through the internet. There are so many voices, so it's difficult to hear them. Not good for prophets, their prophecies will just lie in a database on some server, its power lost once it hit this digital cesspool.
I believe a lot in the power of words and concepts. It's probably why I'll never write anything truly personal on here. I'll tell people, but even then I'll probably ask them not to share... nor will I always share what someone has told me (I do on occasion though). The stories I've gathered have some inkling of power left, because I've been sparing with them. They aren't on a computer, not even my own. I might write their shadows and impressions... something that can be recognised by those who know it, but the actual stories are in my head, and they won't leave through my fingers.
There are things I'd share... things about myself, and if I shared them this way, I'd lose all ownership of it. Others would think that because they know this about me that it's the way I'll behave. So I live a fragmented life. I'll share things that others think is too much information, but the really important bits to me... you'll be told them, but not in the silly way I say other things. I may make silly tactless throw-away comments designed to (or even just aren't, but do anyway) disturb, or disgust or just to amuse... but the really important things like how I feel about something, someone or even myself, they're treated with more tact. That's real stuff. It doesn't go on here.
My life is fragmented - everyone sees a different little bit of me. I'd show very few people all of me. Even people I was in love with, I kept fragments to myself. To those people, I offered fragments of me that others will never see, but I fell... they saw nearly all of me, but I fell... all of me. There's one person who sees damned near all of me, and I never intended for it to happen... and I feel naked.
Most of all, I don't let people see me fall... not really.
My parents told me a story... when I was a baby, I was all too eager to start talking.. and I did. That was all too easy. But when it came to walking... my parents saw me try once... and I fell. They never saw me try again. I didn't try to walk for a good number of months, and they were getting worried. But one day, I just stood up and started walking. I'm sure I was practicing in private, but I wasn't going to fall in front of people again. I wasn't aware of that, but I've never liked anyone seeing me fallen... I'm too naked then.
There are things I'd love to talk about, but never will... Not yet anyway. Not my fears. Not my jealousy. Not my paranoia. I probably don't hide them well, but even if I do, they're there.
I can't think of a good way to finish this