Write a blog about yourself is like a slow tease streap in the Plaza Brion in Chacaito a Saturday afternoon. Expose your privacy to all audiences and clearly this represents a risk.
One of my guilty pleasure is reading the autobiographical blog of the (now) wife of someone who saw a few years ago (to borrow the convenient anglicized "to see somebody.") And I must confess that honesty with which she writes about her life with this type moves me. End up thinking that maybe she and I seem to us more than I expected, though no doubt live on different planets. But they also questioned what pushes the girl to tell stories as "the door of the house within", in a perverse world where someone (not me, of course) could use them to rip the skin. Why do not know.
But I find myself doing the same on this blog, and not be afraid. Maybe I'm an irresponsible with my privacy. Maybe. There are people much more discreet than I with his private life. I used to have a friend close enough that, however, I always told her things in the past tense and when the matter was a fait accompli : never in plans. I have another friend that "blogging" under a pseudonym, to say openly, for example, hated working during pregnancy, without getting into trouble with their bosses.
There are many life events and opinions that never come to this blog, because they are just for me, or few. And if I speak here of love and loss is universal in tone as possible, with the understanding that virtually everyone at some point we have been in those places. I am not nor will I be the first to have occurred to him that here narrated things so candidly. But "blogging" about my own experience has shown the hope that I can rewrite this story, as Frank Sinatra. To my way.
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