Happy Birthday, on her toes!

Today marks the second anniversary of my very first blog entry. And it's time to go a little more public* with on her toes. Not "public" in a "I'm the next Stuff White People Like and am hoping to get a $300,000 advance for the book version" kind of way (not that I would complain....), just in a "I'm not going to be strategic about who reads it anymore" kind of way.

*Cue The Newsboys' "Going Public." Because I'm addicted to mid-90s-Christian-Kiwi-Aussie-rock nostalgia.

I'm tired of trying to gauge when a relationship is ready for the blog introduction. Besides, as a freelancer/blogger-for-hire, I'm sending out this link for writing samples all the time. So whether I like it or not, I'm going to be read. By new eyes. By people who don't me. And I'm okay with that.

I used to be concerned that people would either, A, read far too much into certain entries and jump to awkward conclusions (about what, I don't want to know), B, settle for lopsided friendships (where more is known about me than is ever revealed about them), possibly opting for blog-skimming over conversation, or, C, be turned off by any non-sequitur ramblings that don't coincide with their linear thinking or their personal belief systems. Because, let's face it, there aren't a whole lot of Jesus-loving, pop-culture-breathing, Martha Stewart-in-training twenty-somethings with umbrella issues who take being called "more Mary Tyler Moore than Sex and the City" as a huge compliment.

Oh, and apparently I'm a little neurotic too. See above paragraph.

This blog isn't my journal. It's more of a half journal. It's missing the pieces that involve others. The darkest moments rarely show up here. Nor do those of intense felicity (not to be confused with moments of intense Felicity viewing, of which I have no problem sharing with you. I heart Keri Russell). I've skimmed over emotional roller coasters by posting videos about nothing, and I've kept girlie notions and giddiness strategically subdued on days when my head is in the clouds.

The other night, All About Eve was on. It's one of those perfect Golden Age films, filled with elegant banter, fabulous costumes, and carefully crafted characters. And in a film full of quotable dialogue, one line stood out to me, essentially capturing how I feel about blogging and drawing lines:

As it happens, there are particular aspects of my life to which I would like to maintain sole and exclusive rights and privileges.

Bruxy talked about the differences between honesty and openness last week. It's still something I'm trying to figure out in my own life. I want to be an open book. But sometimes words spill out that haven't been processed yet. Or that aren't falling on the right ears. I've looked for a shoulder to cry on, only to be met with an ill-prepared lecture or an inaccurate judgment call. But I've also guarded my heart, eventually thankful for my restraint as I watched relationships dissolve and my heart escape unscathed. So while I try to walk that fine line, please know that this isn't all there is. But it's still me.

If you're looking for a way to celebrate on her toes, read my first blog entry ever. About Paris Hilton. Because a pop-culture junkie can't be easily cured.

Or eat cake.

My second birthday.

Here's to another two years. Or more.
Cheers.