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People say the nicest things! I think Livejournal can be a great way for friends to show that they really appreciate people, and is also a great way for people to remain in contact, even when they don't get to see each other much. Chesh was saying how blogger tends to be geekier people, and is much more stand alone, whereas lj just seems to create community feelings, and enhance the feeling of friends. I've certainly learnt things I never expected to, and I think my life has been hugely impacted by lj. I am going to have to pay for it eventually!! When I get back from melbun perhaps :-)
I find in some ways, I can be more honest in lj than I can face to face. But also with LJ I have more freedom to talk around a subject and lead up to my points. After all, people can only argue *after* I have posted. I like the memes that come around - I learn so much about my friends, and I learn about me, and it amazes me just how wonderful my friends are. I am blessed with warm, friendly people who know me better than I ever expected, which in some ways frightens me and in all ways comforts me. I feel safe and content knowing that I have friends who I can rely on. I am just amazed and in awe and I hope every one values their friends properly.
I also find, that as I write my lj, I am aware of my audience. I am sure that some people have read stuff here which they would never have learnt otherwise, and I am equally sure that some people have laughed themselves stupid over some of the things I hold dear. A part of opening yourself is the vulnerability that comes with it, but it seems that on LJ there is not a lot of flaming, which is nice. Only one friend has had a negative comment ever, unlike email lists of old, and current, which regularly degenerate into flamewars. I don't understand how people can keep chewing old bones; the fresher flanks are much tastier. :-)
We walked around an old antiques place today, as I believe I have already posted. It's eery, fetishistic even, to see all the gleaming crockery and cutlery, highlighted and tilted, arrayed in it's cold glory for display. Silent displays of the bones of history, the real history of those who lived and loved and died. What conversations at the dinner table resound in ghostly thoughts, what meals made with hate still scrape across bone china, what poisons and loves betwixt the clink of cut crystal. Delicate patterns and gold gilt rims, signs of old decadence, the old dame in her wheelchair, behind the glass of age. What children wore the aged lace, what ladies eased these kid gloves onto their hands, what men built these cupboards, and what secrets do they all hide. In all, I found myself yearning for history; a 71 peice china crockery with lilac maidens with tiny waists, and a story for each plate and a paragraph for each bowl, and history oozing from the gold gilt. Parents, grand parents, great grand parents, great great... children and grand children, great great... and neices and nephews, aunts and uncles, cousins and twice removed thrice removed... and yet I have these people who are related to me and I have nothing in common with them and secretly I think I mourn for this. And it makes me cherish the people I have chosen more than ever before, for these people are my family, the ones I choose to share my life with. Life, loves, hates, and stories. By writing in my LJ, I am continuing a tradition. A tradition of stories and snippets to be passed on, from me to my family. Maybe one day I will go through here (and hide the naughty bits) and read some of it to my children. Maybe I will have stories to tell them. I certainly hope so.
Ok, that seemed to get maudlin! The funniest thing was the line "for these people are my family," because originally I accidentally typed in a T instead of an R. LOL. But anyway, the antiques place was truly awesome. I also saw a family bible, at $700. Wow. :-) But it was big and leather bound with gold bits.... *sigh* If I started such a thing now, there's no history, only me. :-)
I find in some ways, I can be more honest in lj than I can face to face. But also with LJ I have more freedom to talk around a subject and lead up to my points. After all, people can only argue *after* I have posted. I like the memes that come around - I learn so much about my friends, and I learn about me, and it amazes me just how wonderful my friends are. I am blessed with warm, friendly people who know me better than I ever expected, which in some ways frightens me and in all ways comforts me. I feel safe and content knowing that I have friends who I can rely on. I am just amazed and in awe and I hope every one values their friends properly.
I also find, that as I write my lj, I am aware of my audience. I am sure that some people have read stuff here which they would never have learnt otherwise, and I am equally sure that some people have laughed themselves stupid over some of the things I hold dear. A part of opening yourself is the vulnerability that comes with it, but it seems that on LJ there is not a lot of flaming, which is nice. Only one friend has had a negative comment ever, unlike email lists of old, and current, which regularly degenerate into flamewars. I don't understand how people can keep chewing old bones; the fresher flanks are much tastier. :-)
We walked around an old antiques place today, as I believe I have already posted. It's eery, fetishistic even, to see all the gleaming crockery and cutlery, highlighted and tilted, arrayed in it's cold glory for display. Silent displays of the bones of history, the real history of those who lived and loved and died. What conversations at the dinner table resound in ghostly thoughts, what meals made with hate still scrape across bone china, what poisons and loves betwixt the clink of cut crystal. Delicate patterns and gold gilt rims, signs of old decadence, the old dame in her wheelchair, behind the glass of age. What children wore the aged lace, what ladies eased these kid gloves onto their hands, what men built these cupboards, and what secrets do they all hide. In all, I found myself yearning for history; a 71 peice china crockery with lilac maidens with tiny waists, and a story for each plate and a paragraph for each bowl, and history oozing from the gold gilt. Parents, grand parents, great grand parents, great great... children and grand children, great great... and neices and nephews, aunts and uncles, cousins and twice removed thrice removed... and yet I have these people who are related to me and I have nothing in common with them and secretly I think I mourn for this. And it makes me cherish the people I have chosen more than ever before, for these people are my family, the ones I choose to share my life with. Life, loves, hates, and stories. By writing in my LJ, I am continuing a tradition. A tradition of stories and snippets to be passed on, from me to my family. Maybe one day I will go through here (and hide the naughty bits) and read some of it to my children. Maybe I will have stories to tell them. I certainly hope so.
Ok, that seemed to get maudlin! The funniest thing was the line "for these people are my family," because originally I accidentally typed in a T instead of an R. LOL. But anyway, the antiques place was truly awesome. I also saw a family bible, at $700. Wow. :-) But it was big and leather bound with gold bits.... *sigh* If I started such a thing now, there's no history, only me. :-)
