Waiting for the Sirens' Call

So, a late night at work, followed, apparently, by a slow train ride home. They just reported "severe delays" into Acton Town, my halfway point. So, since the carriage is relatively empty, I'll blog a bit on the laptop.

That's not the topic though, it's just a relatively pointless bit of background. The topic is more what I was musing on while walking to the tube station... touched off, in part, by the New Order song playing on my iPod. New Order often gets a bit of stick from music critics for their "adolescent" lyrics. Sometimes though even the simple can strike a nerve. I've always had a thing for "Regret" from their Republic© album, and in this case it's the title song from their latest album that lends the title to this entry which hits a little close to home.

The reason, however, will probably be left as subtext to whatever reader might eventually read this. I suspect that there are few enough of those anyway. Some might be able to put together a plausible hypothesis for the relevance, some might even jump to the wrong conclusion. In any event, I have not (at least yet) progressed to the point where I am blogging my innermost self to cyberspace. Does anyone actually? Certainly some people seem to get surprisingly intimate with the internet. Even so, something must always get left out. It's inevitable. Still, is such a universal intimacy even desirable? Is it an ideal to strive for, or just a very bad idea?

Why do we hide things from our fellows? Is it for defense? Perhaps. Certainly others can use your innermost thoughts in a way that might be hurtful to you. But is that just because we are insecure in ourselves? If we are really comfortable with our own selves, can our secrets still hurt us? Our current society is built around the principle that everyone is hiding something, so as a practical point, being completely honest is probably a potential detriment. But if this weren't the case, is that all that should hold us back? Assuming I'm not going to run for political office, then it's reasonably unlikely that anyone other than family or friends are ever going to read this. Surely I shouldn't want to hide things from them?

Or should I? Is intimacy always a gift? Is it always appreciated, or would some prefer not to know too much. Intimacy is, after all, not merely a sharing of "good stuff." What if a loved one discovers something ugly, that while 'true' is also hurtful. Is it always a good idea to strive for intimacy? I'm not sure that I know.

I am not a natural in this respect. It is not my instinctual nature to open up and share myself. At least some of that is self esteem, or the lack thereof. Some is probably socialization. For whatever reasons, I tend to play things pretty close to my chest.

Still, I have at least one extremely intimate relationship, and we work really quite hard to keep it that way. Still, this intimacy comes with a price, and the toll can sometimes be brutally high. Even with two people as modest, empathic and well meshed as Sunshine and I, the truth can be incredibly painful at times. It doesn't deter me from chasing that ideal in this one case, but it does give me great pause when considering revealing personal issues. Intimate secrets seem to me to be dangerous things and potentially heavy burdens that shouldn't be settled on those around you without serious consideration. I still don't know if it should be that way, but there it is.

Still, perhaps something is being lost. This self censorship certainly narrows experience. Perhaps great TBNNI lyrics were lost to embarrassment. Perhaps I had a brilliant thesis about a New Order song which has been left on the slag heap of other choices. I have been told that there are people, perhaps even potential readers, who would like to know me better. Perhaps they do. Perhaps they will. Perhaps even this blog will provide some of that knowing. If so, I wish them godspeed and hope that they do not regret the knowledge. I might, after all dear reader, be secretly evil.