Sometimes I feel like I'm chronicling my life in snippets- in comments left on articles and blogs, in snapshots posted on social media, sticky notes strewn around my desk- not in a meaningful way, just a stream of flotsam trailing in my digital/real life wake. And I am, I guess. I lack the motivation to turn it into anything more meaningful, more complete. Part of that is the result of my own curation- the belief that things I choose not to share publicly should not be shared with anyone. Is that dishonest? That I keep most of myself for...well, just myself? Or is that normal?
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I just told you how to simultaneously make me really happy and really crazy (well crazier than normal anyways). That's probably dangerous.