I'm back, after a month's absence. I did think of marking the occasion by presenting myself with a show-biz type introduction, a bit of that old razzmatazz: a drum-roll; a fanfare of trumpets; fireworks; and a bevy of high-kicking, leggy, sequin-studded, dancing girls; or maybe the more modest, ta-da, it's me again folks! But instead, and true to my real nature, I've chosen to enter discreetly through the back door. Not too much fuss. Not too much bother. Besides, I have no illusions about my importance in the scheme of things.
It's a funny business, blogging. The personal sort at least. It's frequently said that it's narcissism, pure and simple. I thought so too when I began writing online many years ago, though in those days, although realising it was meant in the pejorative sense, I still made it cause for celebration. New to the game, using the Net as a mask, and fully pumped with caffeine, I fostered a pugnacious, I'm a blogger, and yes it is narcissistic, so fucking what? sort of attitude. But it was feigned, totally affected. When your target audience is invisible, unable to look you in the eye, you can be anyone, or anything you choose. But this was not me, nor is it now, not at all.
It would be a rare event to get to know someone fully, simply from online writing. We put our best foot forward when presenting ourselves to the world. We strive to charm, to impress, to attract, but in doing so, we deceive, albeit unwittingly. It's impossible to do otherwise. And even when - as I've occasionally done - we allow a glimpse of our less than noble side, it never fully reveals who we are. That can never be.
No one is whoever you first thought they were.
So here I am. Don't think you know me, because you don't. Just take it on trust, I'm okay.