Does it ever make you absolutely nauseated to know that somebody's reading your blog you hoped would never read your blog? That ever happen to you? Knowing that this person has now read details about your life that you felt perfectly comfortable revealing to friends -- hell, and strangers and fans and the fucking postman, but not *this particular person*, not in a million, billion years??
What the hell do you do? Do you stop blogging, or do you extend the literal/figurative middle finger at this person and keep on talking about your life with pride and confidence, knowing full well they're keeping a fucking checklist of shit they could possibly use as ammo against you at a later time?
I dunno, I'm at a bit of a crossroads, here. I'm tempted to just hang the shit up rather than reveal even the tiniest detail of my life to this particular person. I don't even want them to know what I had for dinner last night, you know? Let alone what I did last night or how my relationships are going or how much money I spent on this, that, or the other, or even just what I'm up to in California.
Shit. You feel oddly safe talking to a crowd of friends, strangers and well-wishers, but when somebody stumbles on your shit that you don't WANT to, you feel oddly vulnerable. Psychically raped, even, despite the fact that YOU put the information out there. Its a weird duality of blogging, isn't it?