Long time no blog...actually, there's a Valentine's Day draft that isn't out yet because I wanted to attach a picture and my Internet Explorer keeps rebooting when I try to. I can't use Mozilla because I don't already have it, and when I try to download it Internet Explorer reboots too. So I'm kinda stuck until I visit the computer guy in college again.
But anyway, to the topic...
How much can you disclose of yourself to people? To friends who haven't been your friends for very long, not those that you've weathered countless storms together, seen through highs and lows and nastiness and grumpiness?
I don't know, but what I know is that it needs to come slowly...and naturally. For some people their lives are an open book, they'll tell people they barely know the history of their lives and loves. I think that I'm a partially open book - I'm generally pretty open about the small stuff, with things that may help the other person, my weaknesses, things like that - but not about things that might potentially harm/embarrass me if they get out. I guess most people are like that.
There's that line, and when you cross the line, I'll probably spill everything. More than you want to hear, even. But if you've told me your stuff, does that obligate me to tell you my stuff as well? What if I'm not ready to trust you with my baggage, my secrets?
Playground politics, but we take to a greater level as we grow older...
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