going dark
This is the first post on my newly private blog.
Since May of 2006 I have shared my photographs and my musings openly here. In this space. It felt safe, even though it was public. I took careful pains to ensure that my blog remained pretty anonymous. After all, how many Amys live in St. Louis? Tons.
I know most of my readers, because they are friends and family and because they are just about the only people who care about my daily ramblings. My stats show that I get the occasional odd hit from foreign countries and such, but I don't mind. I don't post anything of great importance here, especially lately when I don't have time to do much creative writing or dig too deeply into any one thought. Lately, it's mostly been a place to share my photos of the day, and keep myself accountable for my 365.
And then today happened.
Today I learned that a faculty member at the school at which I work spent a lot of time tracking down my blog. And then he shared it with the two people there who would like to see me gone. Apparently they all have a good laugh each day over my posts. While I am confused as to why my inane posts about making stir fry and having a husband who has been working hard each evening are amusing, mostly I feel violated. Like someone broke into my house and didn't take anything, but poked around and looked at all my stuff and then cast judgment.
I learned other things, too, like my salary information has been disclosed to these people and that apparently they have decided I earn too much money and therefore should be fired or driven from the organization. Thankfully, they have no power to do either one.
So tonight I'm allowing myself to curl up in a little ball and feel upset. I am confused and saddened and I feel like I did when I was 13 and realized that some people hated me just because. I am sad because there are 50-year-old bullies in the world. I am sad that I have to take my blog private because grown men have so little to do either professionally or personally that they feel compelled to wonder what I'm up to when I'm not at work. Tonight I'll be sad.
Tomorrow...that's a new day. That's the day when they learn that they have a colleague who is cooler, smarter, and more professional than they could ever hope to be. Tomorrow is when they learn what the real meaning of "bitch" is.
In the meantime, I'm going to see if there is any way I can turn individual posts private on a public blog. I will gladly take the time to turn each and every one of my 2,424 posts private in order to have one lone public post that says, "Hello, gentlemen. Fuck off."
Since May of 2006 I have shared my photographs and my musings openly here. In this space. It felt safe, even though it was public. I took careful pains to ensure that my blog remained pretty anonymous. After all, how many Amys live in St. Louis? Tons.
I know most of my readers, because they are friends and family and because they are just about the only people who care about my daily ramblings. My stats show that I get the occasional odd hit from foreign countries and such, but I don't mind. I don't post anything of great importance here, especially lately when I don't have time to do much creative writing or dig too deeply into any one thought. Lately, it's mostly been a place to share my photos of the day, and keep myself accountable for my 365.
And then today happened.
Today I learned that a faculty member at the school at which I work spent a lot of time tracking down my blog. And then he shared it with the two people there who would like to see me gone. Apparently they all have a good laugh each day over my posts. While I am confused as to why my inane posts about making stir fry and having a husband who has been working hard each evening are amusing, mostly I feel violated. Like someone broke into my house and didn't take anything, but poked around and looked at all my stuff and then cast judgment.
I learned other things, too, like my salary information has been disclosed to these people and that apparently they have decided I earn too much money and therefore should be fired or driven from the organization. Thankfully, they have no power to do either one.
So tonight I'm allowing myself to curl up in a little ball and feel upset. I am confused and saddened and I feel like I did when I was 13 and realized that some people hated me just because. I am sad because there are 50-year-old bullies in the world. I am sad that I have to take my blog private because grown men have so little to do either professionally or personally that they feel compelled to wonder what I'm up to when I'm not at work. Tonight I'll be sad.
Tomorrow...that's a new day. That's the day when they learn that they have a colleague who is cooler, smarter, and more professional than they could ever hope to be. Tomorrow is when they learn what the real meaning of "bitch" is.
In the meantime, I'm going to see if there is any way I can turn individual posts private on a public blog. I will gladly take the time to turn each and every one of my 2,424 posts private in order to have one lone public post that says, "Hello, gentlemen. Fuck off."
posted by Amy at 7:11 PM
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