Mom's thoughts on Blogs

So we tried again (not the first time) to explain to Mom over dinner what a blog is. We told her it's short for web-log. We told her it's an online journal. A web site where you write things down.

D. said, "You could have one, Mom. You could write down what happens to you, like 'Today the coyotes came down the hills closer to the house.'"

I said, "And other people could read it, if you wanted."

Mom said with (to my hypersensitive ears) Obvious Distaste, "Why would I want to do that?"

She said she'd heard of a newscaster in her part of the state that had a blog, and she didn't see why anyone would write personal stuff down that anyone out there could read.

I changed the subject rather than tell her again that I blog, or invite her again to read the blog. She has conveniently forgotten or not heard me talk about it more than once.

I sound so like a "But You Don't Understand Me" teenager, don't I?

This is a painful fact. My mom supports everything I do, because she's my mom. And I love her, and I know she loves me. But I am sad (and am watching myself be sad) that she may never "get" it - the poetry, the blog, why it's important to me.

Maybe that's part of every human being's experience - having an aspect of oneself that even those closest to one don't understand, can't touch, can't "get." It's probably just as well, for it may be a prime motivator in getting people to form connections with outsiders, with kith rather than kin.

I have this added dimension in my sense of separateness, of course: I wonder how much of the differences between Mom and me (especially when it comes to tastes and sensibilities) are because I was adopted. I like to think it makes no difference whatsoever, but maybe it does. I am blessed to know the good people to whom I am genetically related, and we do share a surprising number of interests and aptitudes. But with any excitement I feel about really connecting with them, I have a sense of guilt about feeling disconnected from my mother.

Again, that's just how it is. Right now. I'm admitting it, observing it, writing it down. For anyone out there to read.