Once in a heated argument over something that had very little to do with blogs, my ‘opponent’ declared that blogs suck. I responded with a complacent ‘Yeah.’
Saying blogs suck is sort of like saying paper-and-pen suck. You can do a lot of things with paper and blogs. You can make calendars, write emo journals, do grammar exercises, make paperplanes…
Blogs do suck sometimes, though. Like when you’ve been writing one for a while, and you want it to just go away.
Blogs = children
I have a plan for this space. I want to make it radical and intelligent. I want to try. I want to write lots of opinion pieces, and not so many ‘link pretty’ articles.
(Pretty reminds me: the other day I was introduced to this woman, and she looked really familiar. I normally don’t make beautiful connections like this, but then I realised that she and I were classmates once. We studied French together at the Alliance Française. I was sixteen and she was some years older, and she told me, ‘It’s good you’re writing poetry so young. It won’t be worth anything. Just a bunch of pretty images strung together. But it’s good practice for when you grow up and have something to say.’)
But I need a break for a while, something to energise me and get me out of a rut, which is both personal and not. So I am going to conduct a set of experiments.
(I had this idea about breaks. I was thinking what I should take a break from. And I thought why not life entirely. Which of course made my friend think I was suicidal. I’m not. But wouldn’t that be perfect? Dying for a week and coming back all refreshed? That’s what I call a vacation. You wouldn’t be able to call it dying though. But it has to be complete, no dreams, no bodily function, nothing. And a new word for it. What would you call it?)
I’ve tried this before and it was a disaster for the most part. People asked me how I came to learn English so well. I should’ve said, ‘Because I’m Indian, duh.’
But I’m giving this another go, this time at the blog.
I’m posting a link to form that will allow you (whoever you are) to ask me a question anonymously, which I will answer honestly.
Setup: My general feeling about anonymity has been not good. Pseudonyms are fine, provided they’re attached to a consistent internet persona. (There was a discussion about this here.) But I’m still sort of interested in this. It’s a nebulous area. How does anonymity transform you? Are there things you would do that otherwise you wouldn’t?
So this is a pretty narcissistic way of experimenting with anonymity. But you’ll have to trust me (at least a little) and believe that I feel reckless doing this. I hate being interviewed, and this is pretty close. Who knows what people will ask me?
It is also reckless because it may be a complete disaster, like my Dead White Male Canon Wars, which I still kind of want to resuscitate.
1. Type a question for me and submit it using this form.
2. This form is completely anonymous. At wordpress, you have to leave an email address (even a fake one) and I think you can trace people using IP addresses, though I’ve never tried or understood how that works. But the form is completely anonymous. You can leave your name/pseudonym/whatever if you like, but it’s up to you.
3. You can ask me whatever you want and I will try to answer it. If I feel I really cannot answer it, I won’t, but I will post your question here anyway. Please note: your questions will be appearing here, and if you post under your name, I will mention that too. (Unless you ask me specifically not to.)
4. There is some general information I’m obviously unwilling to give it out on my blog: phone number, postal address, etc. (If you do need either of these to, I don’t know, send me a box of chocolates? books? flowers? you can always ask me in an email. *tries her luck*)
5. Other questions that I will ignore: spam, obvious repeats, obviously incomplete questions accidentally sent, and possibly other things at my discretion. But yes, I am going for dangerous, reckless here.
6. Yes, you can comment below and tell me what a fool I am. But you see, this is a sociological experiment.
7. I don’t know what’s next. Psychology? I’ll post a Rorscharch’s blot and you tell me what you see in it.
8. This is already helping me feel better. Maybe I won’t need that vacation after all.
9. No, you don’t want to know how much wine I’ve had.
On a slightly unrelated note, check out Nine‘s blog called Everyone I Ever Kissed. Nine, first of all, is an extremely interesting person. I follow her on twitter and we’ve emailed. She’s cool, you know? And what a blog.