blogger is booger

I want to change my template, I found a nice one. well maybe not nice in the blah sense insipid and all but it is fitting with what I want. It's vivid and it clashes in a quirky way while remaining simple. But blogger keeps finding fault with it I don't understand jon tried to help and it worked out pretty fine on his blog but not on mine.

I'm irritated with the previous entry too, the one without paragraphing. It looks like I took a deep breath and then barfed a right-angled word mash with black and white spaces out. I look at it and have no patience to deal with 15cm worth of my thoughts thrown to the eyeballs at one go. And what if this one gets no paragraphs too. Paragraphless piles of meant-to-be-organised-but-are-clumped-together-like-sticky-cake entries. shudder.

Most importantly, I'm tired of a locked up space. I hate locks, and I get so disatisfied knowing that I did the same thing to myself. And this restlessness is enough to make me contemplate unbarring the latches, fling my words back to well. wordpress or wherever and let all and sundry see. I want all and sundry to see. I want all and sundry to see, except mr IT man.

Because somehow, I know if I let my words go walking all over hand-in-hand in the internet sphere, he'll find them. And he'll be reading everything vicariously subsitiuting that for me. And again, to the majority of the guys. You don't understand do you. He told me, he emailed me and told me. He used to go to la-mnemosyne and read my archives to find out more about me. He lies on his bed and tries to imagine what I'm doing. It's twisted voyuerism.

I'll be honest and say that we probably do something like that too. Voyuerism anyway. I'm not saying reading archives is wrong. It's about the purpose of why we're doing it. There's nothing wrong at all in reading archives, they're there for a reason. The only thing is why you/I/we read it. If I read the archives of a friend's friend, I read it because I like the writing style of the person. As in, I think her writing quality has standard. Not to find out more about her life, what she holds dear and is sensitive to. There's just something hideously slimy and gollum-like about slinking behind the cover of annomity, all the more so if you have no right. I have no problems with my friends reading my archives, I'd be happy if you guys actually bothered to. But. For someone who hasn't earned that right, the right that makes me point to you in a crowd and say, that's my friend, he should not be taking the easy, the muculent distasteful way to take part of me away from me. Even if I offer the internet sphere freedom in reading my thoughts, I believe there are limits. Just as plagurism- passing someone else's efforts off as your own- is wrong, it's wrong to twist the liberty given to the reader to use it for selfish purposes, purposes that the reader knows the giver finds vexaious.

So I find myself caught in a quandrum. Between wanting to return to the ideal where I'm open to be read, where I will be read for reasons that. are not wrong, and between the distressful thought that if I do open again, there's a creep out there.