A rose named Borg...

Original Title (so you can understand the original theme I was writing from): 
Rocks, Hard Places, Awkwardness and a Game Called Jenga

I've just had another individual from Twitter politely note, "I just realized I don't know your real name".  When I politely ignored that particular comment, she less passively (after politely waiting for one or two more exchanges) directly asked, "So... not gonna tell me your real name?"

There is only one person I've met on Twitter who knows my real name.  My full real name.  One other person knows my first name.  That's it. (So, yes, you two, you should feel REALLY special, but you can do so quietly)

And that is not an easy decision.  And by next week, that circle may increase. 

The first one who I gave it to had shared some quite intimate details about herself by e-mail earlier in the day, and that evening we were chatting by g-chat, and twenty minutes into the conversation she stated, finally, near the end of the conversation: "You have to tell me your name. I can't call you the borg blog!"

Um, yes you can?  And her argument, as go all the arguments I get, is "who am I going to tell?"

If she were to disclose herself (which I am asking her not to), she'd tell you that all she got for a long time was just my first name.  In fact, the last name slipped really only because I sent her an e-mail from the wrong account.  (Dratted iPhone and human error). 

This is not easy for me.  I do not like living in closets.  I do not like hiding who I am.  I have no desire to be the tiny "wizard" hiding behind some great contraption of fire and smoke appearing to be bigger than who I am.  I HATE closets (except the big walk-in kinds where I can keep my clothes that I've never actually had the joy of having...).

I have written several blog entries already about anonymity.  I don't know if I've tagged them all, but you'll see several of them if you click on the label over there on the right.  This is something I've struggled with.  And still struggle with.

At some level, in my last anonymity post, I acknowledged that I could not keep my two worlds separate forever.  But that each time one side touches the other side, it's like taking out a piece in a game of Jenga.  The first pieces are easy, and bring no significant threat to the structure.  Really, only the dog wagging its tail will knock it down. As a side note, playing Jenga with a yellow lab puppy, by the way, is very hard to do!  But there does come a time where you've taken out so many pieces it makes the structure very precarious, and even the slight vibrations from the plane taking off nearby or the train rumbling by (I've lived both near airports and train tracks) will knock it down while you aren't even looking.

Part of the reason for this blog, I've admitted openly, is as a way for me to heal from the loss of some important people in my life.  People I've loved dearly.  People I still love dearly.  While really I am writing in here only about me, I'm not.  And I live in a small enough town that you would know who (crap, what was the name I gave him, oh, yeah) Tom was, and you'd know who tulip girl was, and you'd know who a lot of people were if you knew who I was.  And while Robin Sparkles doesn't live here in town, and is an old friend from college, it wouldn't necessarily take long to identify her.  (It is true, though, that I don't feel a compelling need to protect Tom, but I also don't need someone telling him I'm writing about him and have him track down this blog, either! *smile!*)

And the reality is that one of my points from the beginning, and I still maintain today, is that we all could be you.  Or someone you know just down the street.  Who we are - name wise - is unimportant to understanding and enjoying (I hope) our story.  And maybe you can take insight you learn from reading here to apply to that person down the street whom I remind you of.  That reading about my struggles and my successes and reading my thoughts and ramblings might just help bring us all together as one loving society and community (Okay, there's that big ass guy full of smoke and mirrors, but....).  That knowing who I am as an individual shouldn't affect your ability to relate to what I'm writing.

But last week, it got even more complicated and troublesome keeping these worlds separate.  Because last week my tweeps did something that a lot of people in my real life have never done.  Heard my call for "help" and came and supported me EVEN if they thought I was nuts to think I needed help, and/or thought I was being really irrational and over-reacting.  EVEN when they didn't agree with me, they still supported me.  Simply because I asked for it.  And until they did it, I didn't realize how absent that had been, for the most part, in my life. 

It was a real WOW moment.  A real you-guys-are-really-special and where-have-you-been-all-my-life kind of moment!! And yet, I won't / can't / don't even tell them my name?

And this is the moment where I change the title of this post.  I gave you the original title above so you can see the framework I started with, and understand where I am or was going.  But somewhere along the line most of you have decided that I smell just as sweet, even if my name is Borg, instead of ________.  And that's pretty darn special.  And I'm pretty darn lucky!!

Have patience with me, then, my friends.  Because so many of you have become my friends.  This is not personal to you - it is my fears, my concerns, and my need and desire to protect others whom I care about, too.  I know that you can respect me on this.  I've seen how you support me, despite my name.  And I appreciate you all. 

-----

If you're new to this somewhat one-sided conversation I keep having about this, I suggest you can read the following posts to catch up on some of my thoughts (if you've read everything I've written, you can skip this and go to the bottom of the entry, post your comment and collect your prize):

I addressed the topic on my very first day of writing this blog in a post called Assimilation.

There I wrote:

 Our experiences while seeming unique to ourselves are also universal.

... 

When one becomes assimilated into the Collective, they become one with another, and all of their memories are now part of the collective. There is no unique "I" in Borg. There is just Borg.

So while you think you may know me, you probably don't. Or rather you may know me, because my experiences are similar to yours or those you do know. But you do not know my identity.

Three months later, I addressed the topic directly again in my post Clark Kent .. This is when I began to realize I might want Lois Lane to know that I was both Clark Kent and Superman so she'd know she was in love with me (well, maybe not quite that...).  And what would I do at that point?  Mostly I was looking for the Anonymous Anonymous support group.  I was sure that Flash, Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman and all the other caped (and not so caped) crusaders might be dealing with some of the same issues I was just starting to deal with.. (and this was before I ever even knew anything about Blogher and then began to wonder how could I ever go?)

The blog post titled simply Anonymity really does state some of the reasons above (protecting others, and also a little left over self-protection) and I think it was when I typed that post that I began to decide this recurring theme / topic needed to have a label of its own.  I also described briefly a very unpleasant encounter I had with one twit (because frankly she was a twit) who got really upset and really rude when I gave her a generic answer in response to a direct question about where I lived.  Frankly, given her response - and she was one of the first people to ask me anything so particular (which I realize is not that particular at all) - it reinforced my rationale to remain somewhat anonymous.  This person, frankly, even now long after I've blocked her, still scares me.  I'm glad she only has a narrow geographic region in which to ponder where she might find me. 

I also talked briefly about the sensitivity I had about my identity / location after leaving an abusive relationship.  There are, unfortunately, people who I have been close to in my life who don't have any idea where I am.  For some of them, I wish I could change that.  For some, eventually over time, I will.  But for many, unfortunately, I just had to disappear.  Facebook has managed to keep me in touch with many I might otherwise have lost touch with, but my in real life close friends (only one of which is on here from that period) will tell you it was still months - if not a year - before I revealed specifically where I was in even that closed environment of hand-picked friends.  While MOSTLY I am over that, I admit my steadfast responses are cultivated / learned from that experience.  As I wrote in Anonymity, murder-suicide was most certainly an option on the table at the end that many - including myself - were afraid could happen.  I think enough time has passed that it is very minusculely likely to happen, but when you experience that possibility and that kind of fear, trust me, you learn to be a little protective. 

(Wow, that took me back to such a lovely dark place - are any of you still here? ;) )

I wrote Anonymity Revisited after I told an in real life friend - not a local friend, of course! - about the blog since it and Twitter is becoming such a big part of my life - at least big parts that I am excited and enthused about.  The world didn't fall apart when I told her.  Although it did give her a bit more information about something she'd known a little bit about.  And she didn't (to the best of my knowledge) rush off and plaster it all over Facebook.  And she hasn't disowned me as a friend.  Again, an early Jenga piece.

And then a month ago, I finally came up with the Jenga analogy after I felt safe enough to share this blog with a memory-impaired local friend (she will agree with me, if she ever does find the blog again, that "memory-impaired" is a fair term to use to describe her lately).  It was somewhat safe because she's likely already forgotten about the blog, or if she remembers it, has no memory of how to find it or what it was called.  It was also somewhat safe because the things that I write on here about local people would not be news to her, would not reveal any new "secrets" and she has already demonstrated, as such, that I can trust her not to hurt the people I love with the information that she knows. 

--------- (did you skip above? Start reading again here....)

I have fallen in love with the Jenga analogy.  It fits this perfectly. Because that one friend asking, "Who am I going to tell? What harm will it do?" is correct that telling just her alone will not cause my life or this separation to come crumbling down.  It won't.  But telling a lot of people, even one piece at a time, will make it harder to keep this construct up. 

Basically, I've come to the conclusion that the wall will naturally come down as soon as I become as popular as Jenny The Bloggess - one of my "heroes".  But until then, and until I have a book deal and a way to support myself through the publishing of this blog and my ramblings, I hope you won't mind if I try to preserve this delicate balance for as long as I can.  Because I admit, if and when that happens, if and when the Jenga pieces all start crumbling down, I'm going to have to think long and hard about possibly pulling some of my more 'exposing' posts, even though, of course, they've all been out there.  And I don't want to censor or edit myself. 

As I said, I don't like hiding.  All while writing this really, really long post about why I'm hiding.

Yeah, look over there, one of the labels, too, is "inconsistency" - what can't see it? It's right there wedged between "I'm human" and "insanity" (at least at the moment I type this! I'm sure over time I'll find some other 'i' label to add...)

For those of you who made it all the way to the end of this post - wow! Thank you.  And congratulate yourselves - or give me an opportunity to congratulate you for reading this really long somewhat winding post - by posting a comment here, too.  I promise to comment back and thank you, and add you to my list of REALLY loyal supporters! ;)

And in the meantime, I hope you accept this rose is named Borg... I swear I smell as sweet (I *did* take a shower this morning!) as whatever my "real life" name does. 

The Polite Conundrum Dance

Or, alternate title: Dyke in a Small Town Revisited

I've spent a lot of time in larger metropolitan areas where finding the gay community was easy - or at least certainly much easier than I've been able to find here.  So there was at least a place where you knew folks would pool who were also like you.  Dupont Circle, the entire city of San Francisco, West Hollywood... You get the idea!  So if you were interested in finding a date, at a minimum, you had at least one place you could go.

No such luck here. Trust me.

But in real life you never know who you're going to run into and whether they might be your soul mate or future life partner, or even a lovely fling.  In real life you should leave yourself open to possibilities because you never know who might come along.

Here's the problem.  If I hit on you in West Hollywood, and you're straight, you shouldn't be so surprised.  If you're in my "hood" (so to speak) you should be comfortable enough that someone might think you're not just a tourist.  Okay, that's not the problem... The problem is how we identify each other outside of the "hood".

When I came out in college, I kinda did it in a big way, almost without thinking, my first year by sitting at a "Coming Out Day" table (Coming Out Day is October 11th - so you can get an idea of how relatively early in the year it was).  People I had gotten to know in that first month and a half reacted in a variety of ways.  One woman (who admittedly later had a torrid lesbian affair her senior year) came up to me and gave me a big hug without even realizing or caring what I was doing.  But others weren't so friendly.  I had several straight female friends who suddenly became afraid I was going to hit on them and began to keep their distance.

Now this is problematic in two ways.  First, so what if I did? Were they not capable of politely turning me down and being appropriately complimented that I might be interested?  Apparently not.  And the second, which is often a reaction that is part of this polite conundrum dance, is the idea that they were so "arrogant" as to think I would. 

And there we have the two steps of the Polite Conundrum Dance.  It's quite a simple dance, really. 

Two women are talking and one is already out and known as a dyke.  The other's sexual orientation is unknown.

If the dyke takes a chance and hits on her, if the other woman is straight, she may run away (and yes, even if she's also gay, she could run away...).  So, one step backwards. 

If the other person early on quickly clarifies - before the dyke takes a chance and hits on her - "I'm straight" she risks offending the dyke that she's so arrogant and that she's so scared that the dyke is going to hit on her.  This may or may NOT be what the straight person is trying to indicate, mind you.  That's not relevant in the Polite Conundrum Dance.  What's relevant is what MIGHT POSSIBLY INCONCEIVABLY be nonetheless conceived, and not wanting to ruin or risk a new burgeoning friendship.

Now, for you straight people, one word of advice I have for you.  Early on in the conversation, please feel free to drop in handily something about your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend.  That is a nice subtle way (if it doesn't seem too contrived) to clue us in that you are not available to us (although, for the record, I've discovered it does NOT necessarily mean that you might not still be interested, but that's a whole other world and a whole other post... See, for example, Married Women Like Breasts..!).  Yes, unfortunately, stating outright early on, "I'm straight, by the way" won't typically go over well - even though in some ways it would be much appreciated - there are more subtle ways, nonetheless, to let the other person know.

Now, a little bit of wisdom about me, in particular.  This may or may not apply to others like me - I can only speak to me.  I am a shameless flirt.  I love to flirt.  It may or may not mean I am interested in something more, but sometimes, I'll admit, in whether I'm interested in something more may depend upon your response to me.  However, given that I flirt with men, women, and dogs, alike, it may mean nothing at all as to whether I am interested in being more than friends.  You should not be worried, upset, offended, or horrified if I flirt with you.  Flirting is fun.  If you enjoy it, then flirt back.  If you don't, don't.  Simple.  And those rules, I think, generally apply to just about anyone - if you enjoy someone's flirtation, flirt back, and if you don't, then don't. 

If you may be interested in something more with me, I'm dense.  I'm dumb.  You'll probably need to be explicit or spell it out.  Or just really, really flirt a lot, and either way, I'll have lots of fun with you.  ;) (I've discovered, apparently, sending me pictures is an effective way of letting me know... although I'm not necessarily a "visual" person....and wouldn't necessarily expect or want them, I can still appreciate the statement, apparently!)

But I have a lot of conversations with new people whose company I enjoy where I find myself engaged in The Polite Conundrum Dance.  They already know I'm a dyke.  Is that why they're interested in getting to know me better? Is that what they're interested in?  If their twitter handle has the words "lesbian" or "dyke" already in them, those I got a clue who I'm dealing with.  "Mama" however in your twitter handle does NOT exclude you from the possibility of playing on my team.  And surprisingly I've run into very few people who have "straight" or "STR8" in their handle.  The only Twitter handle I've found where it's been BEYOND clear that they weren't interested in a romantic relationship with me simply from their handle was "GODH8SFAGS" (although technically, when they wrote me, they did tell me that THEY loved me... so I'm so confused... ;) )

So if you're a new friend, please feel free to drop the gender, subtly in conversation, of your last significant other in order to clue me in... and if I flirt with you, don't be offended.. ;)

Now, check out my next post where I teach everyone how to do the Waltz.  (1-2-3, 1-2-3...)

Anonymity

I have decided to add this as a label over there on the side, because I have a feeling this will be an ongoing discussion for me, and it is one I have already, often, had on the side (just not THIS side) with others.  It is an issue I find myself struggling with, and I have already discussed briefly this struggle in my post Clark Kent.

Having fallen in love with Twitter, I am now finding many new bloggers.  And I find that we blog for many different reasons.  Some of my new friends are Mommy bloggers.  Some are selling products.  Some are rambling and sharing their life like me.  Some have focus.  Some don't.  There is a wide variety of purposes to blog.

For me, in case you haven't already figured it out, I have some issues to work out, and this is cheaper than therapy.  Kidding. Sorta.  But in order to feel "free" to be perfectly honest and open about some of the things I might want to write about, I felt "safer" creating this blog anonymously. 

Despite what you might think, the reasons for remaining anonymous while working through this stuff wasn't about protecting me.  As I've written before, I don't really know how to live in a closet.  There's very little that you could ask me directly that I wouldn't give you an honest and full answer to (probably more than you might even want to know - for example, I wrote a four-page e-mail to a friend this afternoon in response to her 140 character tweet!). 

But my "issues" are about living among and with other human beings.  It is about our relationship to each other.  Which is why I enjoy the irony of the name of this blog, even though it wasn't necessarily intentional.  And so it isn't so much that I am afraid to expose myself, as it is that I am afraid of hurting others who are important and matter to me.  Others who may not prefer to be exposed, who may not want their business identifiably linked to them. 

As I mentioned before, I live in a small town.  One woman I work with, whom I kid that she's "connected", honestly believes that she knows everyone in town, and while I've quizzed her on occasion and found that she doesn't, she knows quite a few.  Including me, for example.  Today, I went to a drive thru for a restaurant I never go to on my own to pick up lunch for a friend.  I was in a bit of a Friday daze, and wasn't paying good attention, making the taking and filling of my order a little harder for her.  I apologized when I got to the window for my distractedness, and she told me it was okay, and that she knew me from soccer.  It was like we were old friends. 

So if you know who I am or you know where I live, you will likely know who I'm writing about.  And while I can make those decisions for myself, it is not fair of me to make those for others. 

When I started the blog, I also made up some good bullshit reasons in who I am about why I wanted to remain anonymous, and in my post Assimilation about how I really am just like you, and that knowing my exact identity might end up being distracting.  It all sounded nice and good when I wrote them (and they are.. but...)

Lastly, frankly, protecting my identity and my whereabouts has become a sensitivity for me since leaving an abusive relationship.  At this point, I know if she wanted to find me, she could.  And after three years, given that she hasn't shown up at my door ready to do me bodily harm (murder-suicide was on many people's minds), I feel fairly safe that she won't.  But for a long time there, I wasn't certain that she wouldn't.  I hoped I had moved far enough away to prevent that scenario, but I didn't feel safe.  I restricted amongst my close friends even where I lived, let alone sharing a phone number or an address.  I had a P.O. Box when I finally needed to have some means for people to reach me, and for a long time even the people at the church only had that address to reach me.  When you have a period in your life where you live with or otherwise share your life with an unstable person, and you have reached the point where the only way to set the boundary is to abandon just about everything (except a storage unit full of stuff that you DID manage to take with you) and move across the country so that she can't try and undermine you and your efforts to take care of yourself, you become protective.  (Someone on Twitter once told me that this was bullshit when I wouldn't be more specific about where I live and that I was lying about the ex-spouse who was also an ex-cop.  Needless to say I have since blocked that person!)
 
I once read a book about how they figured out who "anonymous" was who wrote the book Primary Colors about Clinton and his affairs, and how all of us have very distinctive writing styles and can be identified - with effort I presume - by how we write.  So, at some level, to presume anonymity on the web is, well, presumptuous. I do take care not to use some distinctive identifying written mannerisms while writing here or on Twitter.  Usually I am successful. But I am sure some expert could figure out who I was.

And recently I had a momentary fright on another friend's blog, since not only do we have this distinctive signature in how we write, but we also have a distinctive electronic signature that we leave.  So, I do recognize that if someone really wanted to know who I was and where I am, they could find me and figure it out.  Hopefully, though, no-one decides to look behind the curtain to see who is really the Wizard of Oz, er The Borg Blog. 

This will be a continuing discussion for me it seems.  And, sensitive to other's identity, you CAN comment on here as "Anonymous".  Or, if you want your discussion to be just between us, you can e-mail me directly at theborgblog@gmail.com.