Wonderous World Wide Web… Or is it?

The web is a wonderful thing.  You can find so many answers to questions, stay connected with friends and even make new ones.  There is a level of anonymity as you surf through site after site, reading people’s thoughts, ideas, dreams, loves and losses.  They are as unknown to you as you are to them.  This is a part of what I love about OD.  I love being unknown and unknowning.  It almost makes me, and those people I read make-believe.  Although I find for myself the opposite becomes true.  I’ve discovered a truer version of who I am on here.  All through being someone unknown.

But back to surfing the web.  Its like going to Walmart.  You can find recipes, cookware, ideas, books, music, bad fashions, good fashions, food, furniture.  Everything you could possibly imagine.  I usually can’t go to the local Walmart without running into someone I know, or at least recognize from class or the bar or somewhere else.  Sometimes thats okay, but more often than not, I’d rather be unknown.  The customer buying the cereal and body soap.  That’s it.  Nothing more, nothing less.

When the hell of Jenn and Mel broke loose, I was terrified to go places for fear of running into them.  I was hurt by their actions and somewhat fearful of what Mel might do next.  Jenn might scream and yell, but Mel was crazy enough to come after me.  Once or twice I saw them in Walmart, but ducked down an aisle and avoided them.  In a town so small, it can be difficult to avoid people at times.

So imagine the surprise when you "run into" someone online.  I have two examples.

My aunt is a cosmetic surgeical nurse in Michigan.  During a procedure, the conversation in the surgerical room turned to music.  My aunt mentioned her niece (me) played the oboe and was going to school for a degree in performance.  The doctor asked her where.  My aunt said it was a tiny town in western NY that most people haven’t heard of.  The doctor looked surprised and said he was reading a blog of an oboe student from that very college!  How about that?  I thought I was talking to myself out there, but some cosmetic doctor in Detroit reads my oboe blog!  I feel famous!

The second…  I was working on my next oboe blog, which has to do with conducting styles and the ensembles response to the conductor.  Which is better, or even correct – playing before the beat or after the beat?  This is an issue that often comes up in rehearsals so I thought I’d do some research and post up on my blog.  I do a google search and found a choral website forum that was discussing that very topic.  It was good, because there were many different responses and viewpoints.  I believe that when you are truly objective, you can start to more clearly define why your way is better for you and why my way is better for me.  Makes for a much better conversation.  So I was scrolling through the comments.  There are the bottom was a response, posted years ago from Newfie – his name, his city, his voice coming through the words.  Whatever happened to the protective anonymous feeling of the web?  I feel like I need to tighten down the hatches and set the alarms.  He might see me!  And all of a sudden, I’m not such a fan of this world wide web thing.

Its the same feeling I felt when I saw my ex-boyfriend for the first time a few months after we had broken up.  I was in my car, stopped at a light.  I don’t even know what direction he came from but all of a sudden his truck was coming toward me and passing right next to me.  He didn’t see me, or at least I don’t think so.  I had been doing so well since he and I had broken up.  (He broke my heart, high school sweetheart, etc)  Running into him like that drove my nerves out of control.  I wanted to crawl under the shelves in my basement and be very, very still.  I used to build forts on those shelves when I was little and hid from my parents for hours.  I’m pretty sure they had a good idea where I was, but I was young and the whole "I-can’t-see-you.-You-can’t-see-me" concept applied.

Its the same feeling as coming across something from the past, something you’d left behind and moved forward from.  Now that thing is here in the present, mocking you with your belief of sanity.  Throws you off balance.  Like coming across a scent nearly forgotten, a memory supressed, music from so long ago.  Knocks you off your feet, throwing your equilibrium to a place you can’t imagine.  This was supposed to be over and forgotten, a fond memory you can barely recall without diary assistance.

But those pixels on the screen spell out his name, taunting me, staring back at me.  Until I break the connection with the wonderous world wide web and retreat to the space under the bed.