Anonymous on the Net: The Introvert and the Blogosphere

Found here.

Since this blog has gone unattended for longer than usual I thought I would come back with a little notice about what's been going on.

It seems that it's hardest for people who are introverted and shy to keep a blog or online journal going. The constant hum and murmur of chatter and conversation become overwhelming. Trying to keep up with the latest widgets, SEO information, and trends also gets to be too much. For someone who likes their privacy, and doesn't feel the need to over-share with complete strangers, the feeling might be akin to juggling eggs while riding a unicycle.

Not only is it difficult, you look silly doing it if you don't know why you're doing it in the first place.

Online is all about being over. Over compensating, over sharing, over night, over, over, over.

When suddenly we stop, assess the situation, gather information, and begin damage control do we see the big picture.

And what do we do? We start over. And over. And over again. We jump through all the hoops until finally- we land. 

Eventually we all learn to leap regardless.

Where I Use to Live

Found it through Google Images. 

If you move away, can you still refer to your former residence as "my home"? 

Since I've chosen to not attend the church I grew up in, I've been asking myself that question a lot. A church isn't the same thing as a house, structurally speaking. You can make a house a home. And a church is a house of worship. But is a church also a home? And once you move away, is it still yours? 

My family moved into our little house in town when I was a toddler. I grew up in that one house and only moved away temporarily during college. The first time I moved out out was, er, problematic at best. So I moved 'back home'. I've lived in two other apartments since then and have enjoyed it immensely. I still refer to that house as 'my home', even though I have no intention of again living under the same roof as my folks. Occasionally I'll refer to it as "my parent's house", but that still feels new on my tongue. 

It's the same with church. I've been going there since before I was able to walk. I made some wonderful friends there. I got involved in choirs, youth group, the adult choir, Vacation Bible School every summer...I loved it. Then. I stopped attending for multiple reasons. Somewhere between the pervy old men and the pressure to join committees I lost interest. 

That's not how it always was. 

There once was a sense of community, of the idea that it was safe to explore your beliefs and to doubt and to question and to ask and to seek. And sometimes to hide. The idea was that, if you can't feel secure inside a church where can you? 

Answer: Anywhere. 

Dur. 

I tried going back at first, thinking it was only in my head. That I must have been over reacting. I wasn't. Things changed. I changed. I couldn't go back anymore. People ask me where I've been, that they miss me. They want to know if or when I'll come back. 

But I can't. And I won't. 

It's not my home anymore. 

I don't live there anymore.

And that's okay. If Dorothy was meant to stay in Oz, then there would be no need for ruby slippers. And we all need ruby slippers. Just three clicks and a chant, and you're home.