WARNING: Opinion Ahead

I’m sure a few people know who madman is. As a matter of fact, anyone who happened to post a comment on at least one blog (I think she’s probably deleted it now – it was not her fault.) awhile back would know this author’s real name, address, phone number, fax number, all that REAL LIFE stuff. Why? Please tell me why a person would “out” a fellow blogger who didn’t want to be outted? This person never named names on his blog, or posted pictures (at least none that I saw) and for all I know, he made up every single word! I mean, REALLY… do we ever know for sure in this cyber world that all is how it appears? Even people who put their full names on their sites, with their cities and states and pictures of them and their children… are they really who they say they are? Unless I’ve met them and seen their drivers’ license, I’m not sure I’m buyin’ it.

Hate to say it, but it’s just too damn easy to lie out here in cyberspace.

Oh, sure, there is always going to be some cocky fucker who thinks it’s fun to really find out who you are and let the universe in on it, but so what? Unless I find out that the Director is really Brad Pitt, or Brian is really George Clooney, or (God forbid) Bunny is really Angelina Jolie, I DON’T CARE. Seriously. I enjoy reading the stories of other’s lives. I get a huge smile on my face when someone like cw or fresh or dooce gets irreverent and makes me laugh out loud until I can no longer control the Pepsi spurting out of my nose or the gas escaping from my ass. I am touched when people have day to day struggles with wee ones and not-so-wee ones and partners and almost partners and ones who are not quite like you and me – but because I’ve read the stories I feel they are so much more than I ever thought they could be before.

I’ve read things that moved me to tears from words of love to another, or a poem that touched the darkness in my soul. There are women out there that I can say out loud “that was me ten years ago” or “that’s gonna be me” or sometimes even “she is so much like me it’s scary!”.

But if it’s real…? Do I need to hold this piece of a star to know there are stars in the sky? Do I need to taste the salt to know it’s a tear? Does it really need to be real? Let me live in my delusion a little longer. I don’t wanna know.