Gayle explains some shit

This feels like so self-explanatory I shouldn't have to write it, but here we go:

Reading my blog does not mean you know me.

Yes, you guys, it is true!  Shockingly, reading in this space does not mean you understand me!  You cannot guess my motivations!  My feelings!  You do not really have a handle on who I am!  You have not seen the contours of my soul!  Actually!  JESUS.

There have been some folk come round these parts recently who assume they know all about me.  Sometimes, these folks are a little smitten, which means they are seeing me even less clearly.  There's a lot of talk at me about my patterns of behavior and my needs and my personality.  There've been bucketloads of assumptions.  And it's been difficult for me to deal with these people, because they see me as this person Gayle, who I am not all the time.

Like, for instance?  I do not spend all day pondering over the state of my rapebrain.  It is true!  Sometimes I listen to Son House and do work!  I almost always listen to the blues to do work!  Sometimes I talk on the phone with friends!  Yes!  I also laugh easily and a lot, did you know this, Readers?  I read fairytales in bed before I go to sleep and I go to classes and raise my hand a lot.  I love going dancing.  I always forget to pay my wireless bill on time, I don't know, it is a thing.  I go to SHITLOADS of litigation meetings.  I like drinking tea with lemon at night.  My life is, and I am, a giant tapestry; but blog posts, they are only about one thread.  I can only show people one strand of the picture at a time.  And so maybe the longer you've been reading, maybe the better picture you have, but you've still only been seeing one tiny piece per post.  It's like a fucking Chuck Close painting.  I look a lot different when you put it all together and step back.

I do try to make each blog post as true as possible - I read it and re-read it to make sure my words are expressing as closely as possible what is actually going on in my head, my life.  And 99% of the people I know in life as a non-internet entity think I am just like my blog, albeit less concentrated and edited and focused in person (obviously - I am not a single subject proofread creation).

But also: this blog was created to serve a purpose.  It provides a space for me to heal, to ponder, to think things through, to rage about whatever.  And so that's what I do here.  That's what you see.  There's a lot else to me: I am a lot more and less messy in person, a lot more and less interesting, a lot more and less smart.  I am probably shorter than you think.  I am blond.  Yes, that's me in the picture - I don't think I had brushed my hair, or even washed my face, that day.  But then I almost never brush my hair.  I walk around my house in sparkly Care Bears pajama pants and babouches.  I spend a lot of time with ladyfriends poking around on etsy and making long lists of the things we covet but will never buy because we are broke (I so want this fucking hat). 

I also don't understand how anyone could think they know anyone through a blog.  Who the hell do you think you are?  Why would you ever be so arrogant as to think you have a handle on me, based on the little you see here?   Or, maybe you are not arrogant - maybe you have awfully rosy glasses.  Maybe you want to believe in me as a person because you agree with my writings and my opinions and you like this space.  But let's face it: I am a far less good person than this blog conveys.  I am way more awesome than the person revealed by this blog, too - I am not insulting myself.  But I am saying - there is an awful lot of depth there.  You could spend days, months, years by my side, trying to know me.  And I could do the same with you.  But I am quite sure neither of us are simple, and even after years, we will never be able to turn to each other and say, sure, "I know you."  Yet somehow, reading a few blog posts convinces some they have a firm grasp on what kind of creature I am.  

Also, I am putting my face to this blog, because I feel I also need to expressly say this:  I am a human being.  I have feelings.  I get hurt.  I cry.  I bleed, if you cut me.  Just because I have a blog and an internet identity doesn't mean you can be careless with me.  There is a person under here, and she has kinda been through a lot lately.  Have some humanity, and give her a fucking break.

This is truly not directed to most of the community here.  I love my commenters.  I love the people who come and make this a wonderful place.  But there have been some people (who are, NOT SURPRISINGLY, dudes) who have decided they wanted more of me.  More than this blog could give them.  And that is where everything went (ALSO NOT SURPRISINGLY) wrong.

So!  I am not attempting to scare everyone away.  I have not been lying to you all along and I do not in reality sacrifice small children or go to Tea Party rallies or try to trip old people as they walk down the street.  This blog, this is pretty much me.  But it's still a tiny piece of me, and there is this immensely more complicated real-life lady person behind all of it.  And that goes for everyone who writes a blog.  And also for the commenters.  So let's put away the paper dolls and two-dimensional cut-outs, shall we?  We're all a lot more interesting than that.