How dreary to be somebody...

It's odd. I've spent over a decade online, and have been perfectly happy posting rather private information to thousands of strangers.

Yesterday, however, I had a rather... disconcerting experience. Twittering on a #feed to a bunch of fellow flybabies (people who use the techniques for organization, etc, of the site flylady.net) and someone on my Facebook asked me what #flylady was about. It's not that I'm reticent to talk up Flylady, since she and her site have been quite helpful in dealing with my ADD-like executive function problems. But it was an odd feeling to be forcibly reminded that stuff I'm doing here, or on twitter, might show up in Facebook, or Plaxo, or elsewhere, on someone's feed.

What comes to mind is from John M Ford's classic "Final Reflection" in which the saying recurs: "If I had not wanted it heard, I would not have said it." The society is one of constant observation, cameras, bugs, etc, but it applies to the Internet as well - that what I post here, or anywhere on a social network, now, will show up in unexpected places.

Although I *know* this... occasionally, I find it discomforting. Too public. Too many people following what I'm saying - and not just strangers; people I know!

As Emily Dickinson put it:
“How dreary - to be - somebody!
How public - like a frog -
to tell your name - the livelong June -
to an admiring bog!”

Ribbit.