Tuesday, October 26, 2004

What's It All About, Chrissy?

Have you ever been somewhere, like a doctors waiting room for example, and said something really funny to the receptionist? She laughs and you laugh, yet the joke seems kind of hollow. And you think to yourself “I wish that there was someone I know here, so that they could see how funny I am.”

After I started my first blog, when I was in New York, I remember my friend Matt emailing me. He told me that it seemed obscene to him that I would write down so many personal things about myself and others for all the world to read. What exactly was it that I thought I was doing? And why did I think that anyone was remotely interested in what I had to say? He bought it up again when we were having dinner the other night. I think he even said something really melodramatic about it being “betrayal on a grand scale.” Hmmm. I guess we’re all entitled to our opinions.

I was having drinks the other night with my friend Rachel and she said that she really enjoyed reading my blog and I was glad. Because you see the thing is, obviously I don’t just write this for myself. If I wanted to do that I would keep a diary and hide it under my mattress. I used to do that actually. I found that diary recently and, to not put too fine a point on it, it made really depressing reading. I would only ever write entries when I felt depressed which actually was not that often. The diary is actually quite a thin notebook and yet contains over five years worth of sorrows. So for the most part I guess I was quite happy, because I never wrote about it!

So lately I’ve been thinking to myself “why do I write my blog?” Well, I guess there are a number of reasons. But before I explain why I just want to say that I think most of us at some point in our lives have kept some kind of journal or diary. And I believe that deep inside we were, or are, hoping that someone might find it. Why else did we store it under the mattress, when that was the most likely place that it would be found? I don’t know if anyone ever found my diary but I’m pretty sure I must have entertained the idea that someone would do, one day. And because it makes such depressing reading I now hope to god they didn’t. I know I can get the odd bout of melancholy, but on the whole I think I am a pretty happy, well adjusted person (in my own special way!)

The first reason I have a blog is because of Drew. He started his blog in September of 2003, just after he came back from his summer working in Ibiza. They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so I am sure that he is flattered that I started my first blog soon after reading his. Of course now I am well on to my second blog. I like to think of the first one as a kind of chalk pad for the second act. Most of you won’t have read it, which is kind of good, because it was really wasn’t me at my best. I was warming up!

The second reason that I write this is because it encourages me to think about things that I wouldn’t normally pay attention to. Sometimes it might be a funny joke and I want to record it here for the record (I, like so many of us, can never remember a joke.) Quite often it is because I want to share a personal, touching moment with you all. When you know that every day a whole bunch of the people you care most about in the world, not to mention the readers you’ve never even met before, are waiting anxiously for the next installment of your little view of life, as you see it (and I am touched that for some of you I am the first thing you ‘do’ when you log on at work in the morning) it makes you look around and focus on the smaller moments in life. It makes you ask questions. It makes you think things like “What if they discovered a new colour? Would we be able to see it?” And it sounds way pretentious, but you start to see the bigger picture. I have always maintained that the big moments in life are masquerading as the inconsequential, smaller moments. In the last few days, for me, it was a trip to the gym.

The third reason is that I guess I want to create something that is about me, but that is also bigger than me. Raise your hand if you have ever wanted to be famous. If your hand isn’t up right now (do it mentally if you are at work) then you’re a liar. We’ve all considered it. Rock star, actor, presenter, author. Why is Drew in New Zealand writing a book? Why did Will go on Big Brother? Why did Helen do Changing Rooms? Well I guess to answer those questions properly you’ll have to ask those people yourselves - but let me hazard a guess, at least for part of the reason. Most of us don’t crave fame for fames sake. We seek it because we want to make a profound, indelible and unique stamp on the world. It’s about documenting that there is more to us than meets the eye. That we can write really well, or that we have a caustic and clever wit, or that we have excellent taste in interior design, or even that we can be, unprompted, really funny in the doctors waiting room. I’m not kidding myself that I am anywhere near famous for writing this blog, but the other day I got an email from an American girl living in France who said that she thought I was really “insightful”. Do you know how much it means to hear that from someone you have never met before?

I’ll admit that there is an element of exhibitionism in this thing – I’m putting myself on a stage for the time that you read this. I’m making a big assumption that you are interested in what I have to say. And maybe, Matt has a point. Maybe it is wrong for me to document conversations that I had with Jake. But I’m not that convinced. If you want to be really moral then I could say that you are all voyeurs – I mean, you keep coming back for more, don’t you, you sickos! But we all know that’s not true (*hugs you all*). I think that the best thing about being a human is the ways in which we can express ourselves. And what’s the point of expression if there’s no one around willing to listen?

Ted Hughes wrote and published a book called “The Birthday Letters” which was all about his tempestuous, and for the most part, distressing relationship with Sylvia Plath. I’m sure that there were, and still are, some people who think that it was an inappropriate thing to do. But I’m guessing that there were a lot more people who read his poems and stories and found hope or similitude. I am NOT, for the record, aligning myself with Ted Hughes. But maybe, in a much smaller way, when I tell you all about my meeting a really nice, kind and handsome guy at the gym I can share with you a bit of my warm, fuzzy glow. We all like to hear stories. They can make us happy or sad, but above all they make us feel human and connected. How many times have you heard a truly terrible story about someone else’s suffering only for it to remind you how lucky you really are? Or listened to a story about two old friends falling in love, making you realize that it “can really happen”?

So I’m not going to listen to Matt. I’m going to continue to write this blog and share my little life with you all. And I’ll try to be faithful to the twists and turns.

But seriously…can you imagine how cool it would be if they DID discover a new colour?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Don't stop Chris! WE WANT MORE!!