Anonymity…

…or how I learned to navel gaze and stop worrying.

Yep, it is time for another post about blogging. Not about why I do it – I have pretty much decided that the reason why I do it is because I want to do it. But it did strike me that the blogosphere is a fairly odd world – mainly because of the anonymity.

A few people know that I write this blog – two of them have their own blog IDs anyway. Bits of my family know, and a couple of work colleagues figured it out using the age old technique of looking at my screen and asking me what I was doing. One person I know managed to find my blog using Google, but aside from that The Nameless One remains anonymous.

Which gives me a fair bit of flexibility to say what the flying fuck I want to say, and in the fucking way I want to say. And probably creates a persona that is not reflective of whom I actually am.

Sure, I can be cynical and I have absolutely no issue with swearing like a trooper*. But I am not as negative as I appear on The Appalling Strangeness – I mean, I tend to talk about stuff I like more than stuff I don’t like, but here I can only muster about 200 words on music I do like and 750 words on pop stars I don’t like. Equally, in real life I try not to be too judgmental, and when I do judge people, I try not to make it too obvious. On this blog the label I use the most appears to be “Worthless Cunts”. The anonymity of this blog creates a slightly different me, a nastier, more angry version. The Nameless One is a manifestation of my anger and irritation at life, a bit like a split personality but without the need to dress up as my mother and murder people in the shower.

The anonymity of other bloggers can also be interesting, because you cannot help but build up an image of the author without any real idea of what they look or act like. Take Mr Eugenides – I would picture him (partly owing to the angry baby in the banner of his blog) like Stewie Griffin from Family Guy – an eloquent but angry baby, sat at a computer terminal, flicking through The Guardian website muttering “Victory Shall Be Mine!”

But like all of my posts on blogging this is going nowhere, so The Nameless One persona will have to be put to one side and I will have to be the real me. At least over lunch.

*When a swear box was briefly introduced to our office my response was to chuck a couple of quid in it with the phrase “fuck that.”