Evening Thoughts: blogging and venting

The ten minutes of blogging is my experimentation with catharsis in the workplace. The virtual space allows me to express myself as an individual, instead of as a part of the office community, which involves speaking with reservations.

But the blogsphere is a public space, accessible by anyone who cares to look. This made me think about the post where I vented about annoying co-workers. The public aspect of the blog brought to my attention interesting questions of principles: although the blogsphere is public, the possibility of my co-workers reading what I write is slim; does that mean my public voice is in fact a compromised one? As I write on this blog, I hope to uphold at least one principle, and that is sincerity. Would I write what I write if my co-workers could read it? And if I don't write about my co-workers, is it because I'm concerned for my reputation?

I started thinking about this especially after I cooled down from my rant. My cubemate is essentially harmless, and so I felt guilty talking about him in public as I did. And then I began to wonder if it was because there was a chance that he might read it, or someone he knew might read it, instead of a sincere feeling of regret. I talk about my co-workers with my friends liberally. On a bad day, I'll say some terrible things. So why is a blogpost different?

So I edited my post to include a note: if you are reading, I hope you know I mean every word.

Now, this doesn't change the nature of the blogspace, accessible to everyone yet accessed by a limited few. My opinions are still privy to a select few. However, I wrote the added note after I reflected on my actual interaction with coworkers and found that only an idiot wouldn't realize I had problems with a few of the good folks I work with. I'm always cracking jokes about how they're only arguing because they want to be right, that they believe something only because they're insecure of their manhood, and I'm always telling them straight up that they make my life a stuffy hell. These jokes and jabs are the way I let people know I feel uncomfortable, get people to leave so I can get some work done, and ultimately assert a particular set terms of interaction I expect from my co-workers.

Still, it's always weird to talk about people behind their backs. The sense of paranoia and uneasiness that comes along with speaking of family members and friends is especially enough of an incentive to allow grudges to fester and objections to fall to the wayside, but these conversations are necessary. It's necessary to talk to other people about your feelings, in honest and raw terms. I don't want to be a gossip fiend or a back stabber. I'm talking about letting someone know how you really feel, despite the anxiety that word will get around, that the listener might judge, and worst of all, that no one will agree. This kind of talk isn't just venting, this kind of talk is testing what begins as a nugget of conviction against the eyes, minds, and mouths of the people who share our everyday experiences, to see if what we see is what they see.

This isn't advice on how to behave in the office. These are simply my thoughts.

Sincerely,
Sol