somehow the vital connection is made

A bit odd coming here right after watching this week's House. The episode focused on a blogger who shared her entire life on her blog. It dealt with many of the questions I've raised about blogging - why do I do it, who is it for, how do I decide what I write about, etc. The character on the show attempted to share everything, without editing, to break down any walls of privacy in an attempt to connect with people. But is that what it takes to connect with people, complete transparency? Does it actually help people feel closer to you? Or is there a point at which sharing everything actually keeps you from connecting with people? I don't know. I know I don't share everything here (and everyone should be overjoyed that I do not). Many, many things that happen in our lives don't need to be shared with everyone. And maybe that's the key: it's not about simply sharing, but about with whom you share what you share. I shouldn't be about connecting with everyone; it should be about finding those people with whom you connect and then opening up yourself to them. But then how do you find those people unless you first open yourself up?

This is something I often struggle with - this idea of connection. I used to joke that I felt like a Duplo block in a Lego world - kind of the same, but not exactly. The show talked about how the internet was supposed to solve this problem - with so many people online, you had a much better chance of finding someone who thought like you than if you had to rely on the people in your general vicinity. Makes sense. But simply finding people like you is much different than actually connecting with people. With social networking sites, we're more "connected" than ever. We know more about our "friends" than we used to. But I don't see it making us any more connected. We have more information about people, but I'm not sure we actual "know" them any better.

I used to believe the more you knew about a person, the better able you would be to connect with them. And to an extent, without knowledge there's no way to truly connect. But there's more involved than just knowledge for true connection. I mean, I have many friends that I know a lot about, but the amount of knowledge doesn't necessarily transfer to being more connected. There's something else involved, right? Something that allows us to connect with people we barely know? Something that separates our acquaintances from our deep friends?

But what is that thing? Is it like the ever-elusive chemistry we talk about in dating relationships - impossible to define but we know when we have it? Again, I don't know. I don't understand why I connect with some people and not others or why at some points in my life I can't seem to connect with anyone. Trying harder doesn't help and may in fact hinder. Perhaps this is one of those areas of life I'm going to have to surrender to mystery and realize there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy...

Anyway, it's obvious through this Lenten experiment that I do not have what it takes to be an actual writer, by which I mean, I lack the discipline necessary to do it well. I'm far too good at finding excuses not to write instead of making time to do it. Even when I try to get myself to write by attaching a spiritual aspect to it I can't quite do it. Would be much easier if I didn't keep my life so busy. I wear myself out, leaving little energy to do activities like writing. Watching TV is far less taxing than sitting down to gather my thoughts and when I'm exhausted, I tend to go for what is less taxing.

Of course, being exhausted doesn't seem to help me sleep any better at night. Insomnia has crept back into my life here at the beginning of the trimester, as it always seems to do. I'm sure if I was in therapy I'd be able to make the connection between the two. But right now, I'm too tired to think about it.

Things that make me wonder: my neighbors behind me currently have almost every light in their house on. This is not an unusual occurrence. And there are few times, even in the middle of the night, when I turn to look out my window and don't see at least one or two lights on. Just strange to me.

And that my friends is a sign I should stop typing. Probably won't get to blogging until late tomorrow - school, then film club (The Fisher King) then my first choreography rehearsal for The Wedding Singer. I'm exhausted and I haven't even started yet. Better get some sleep tonight (I hope, I hope, I hope). Æ