I’ve been blogging for quite awhile now, for over three years.
When I write, I’m almost always alone.
Palms at sunset, Orange County, CA
Even if there are people around, I find a quiet spot so I can think.
Every single time something I’ve written on Twenty Four At Heart is acknowledged by someone I encounter in my every day life,
It comes as a shock.
I know it’s ridiculous, but that’s the reality of personal blogging. I write my thoughts on a screen, alone. It’s like writing in a diary, except I dare not write about certain subjects.
Sometimes one of my friends will call,
They’ll start a conversation as if we’re continuing a talk we had via Twenty Four At Heart.
I’ll do a double take, thinking –
How did you know …? Oh yeah, you must have read it on 24.
Weirder still, however,
Is when I get a text from The Neanderthal in the middle of the afternoon –
Saying, “Who’s the hot trainer?”
And it literally stops me in my tracks, as I mutter, What the hell??
I’ve had a doctor look at me, knowingly, and say, “Well, you’re a type A personality so ….“
And then backup his statement with tidbits he’s read about me/my life on 24.
(Hey – no fair analyzing me via 24!! Besides, I can’t help it – I have a strong genetic disposition!)
I’ve been stared down in public by people I’ve never seen before …
Eventually some of them come forward and ask, “Are you Twenty Four …?”
I’ll get occasional emails from my ex, longtime, college boyfriend –
Short, one sentence, questions asking about something I’ve written on a particular day.
The emails almost sound like the extension of a conversation …
But it’s a conversation we never had –
One he’s read on Twenty Four At Heart.
I took my (old) car in for service once and was completely taken aback when a male employee fired off photography questions at the sight of me.
My brain knows I write on the Internet.
My brain knows a lot of people know who I am either because of Twenty Four At Heart, or because of my photography.
My brain knows many people know a lot about me –
A terrible car accident, multiple surgeries, my struggles, my triumphs …
I will never, ever, get used to things like a random text, in the middle of the day –
Making me blush …
“Who’s the hot trainer?”