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Copyright 2009-2010 by
Mary Brotherton
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Inside my Brain

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Wednesday, February 05, 2003

Voyeurs and Exhibitionists
I believe that bloggers are both voyeurs and exhibitionists. We like to look at other people's lives, hearts, minds, and yes, even their very souls; we also like to flaunt our own. We come to our computers like dirty old men come to the park, and we flash ourselves at anyone who will read our words. We like to be oohed and ahhed at, and some of us like to cause shock and see who will run away. We want to be noticed, loved, appreciated, and cared for. We want to know that we are making a difference. Or we just want to vent and at those times, we fling open the raincoat of our inhibitions and we write whatever we feel inside, with little concern for those in our line of sight. I think that when another person reads something on our page and makes a heartfelt (or even a mindless, ill- considered) comment, we are often hurt. We feel that they are laughing at the anatomy of our minds. But, isn't that one of the reasons we go and read other people's work? So we can sneer and feel superior? Or do we really care, I mean, REALLY care? Are we voyeurs or exhibitionsits? Or, are we artists and writers? Do we really have something to share with the world? Do we really have a voice? I believe that we do. I know that when I find that my page has not been looked at for a few days, it hurts. That, to me, is equivalent to a flasher not being laughed at, but being ignored! That feels, in my heart, how I imagine it would feel for a lovely young exhibitionist to be walking down the street, wearing her strappy stilletos, tap, tap, tapping as she walks; long, shapely legs striding to the beat of a drum within her own heart; her tight skirt at the most tempting hemline, and her voluptous torso nearly bursting from the bustier she had chosen for the occasion. I can imagine that the emptiness I feel at having no one read my words today would be the same sense of lonliness she must feel if she walks past a busy construction site or down Wall Street and no one notices. Exhibitionists don't display their bodies soley for their own enjoyment, and I don't blog entirely for my own entertainment either. I want someone, anyone to notice. But I want to be noticed not because my cleavage draws your attention, or because I have taps on the bottom of my shoes. I want to be noticed simply because I exist. I am. Can you see me? Don't make me come over there.