Portrait of my lack of self belief

Funny how things happen. The other day I posted one of my music therapy moments and received some really lovely comments. A small flourish of visitors suddenly appeared, all because this writer had listed my Fela Kuti ramble on something called Post of the Day. What a strange and wonderful feeling that is.

I read a lot of blogs. Today when I returned home from work, my Google Reader presented me with 45 posts to sift through. Some I skim, unless a line or photo snags my attention. Some blogs I read slowly. These are the blogs I have come to "know." I connect with the shifting moods of the author or photographer, see the windows of our shared humanity in their words and images. I often comment on their posts.

I also love blog bouncing. I see it as a combination of skipping rocks and playing pinball. Click on this comment, which leads you to this blog, which has this interesting-looking follower, which bounces you over to this other blog, where there is a link to some other great post. I visit Blogs of Note, as well as all the blogs that are featured each week on Five Star Friday. Now I look forward to bouncing via POTD.

Is it wrong that my sense of community is electronic? In my day-to-day life, I lack a circle of connection with the people around me. I always feel somehow on the outside, like I am missing something fundamental that would allow me to "fit in." But there is something about the world of bloggers that is reassuring and warm. It's that feeling of "these are the neighbours I've always wanted." Now if only you could all come over for a cup of tea and a chat.

If you're out there, how come I can't find you down the street, or in my work? Why am I so often so lonely? I know I'm a geek who likes world music and strange recipes. I'm physically aroused by languid, rich metaphors and the highlight of my day was when my parcel of raw cacao beans arrived in the post. But I assure you I'm genuine and curious and sometimes my jokes are even funny.

I like to please people and make people happy. Most days I feel like I fail at this. Yet I know that if I post this photo:

...that someone, somewhere might see it and smile. And that makes me feel good.

What am I trying to say. That I had a bad day today. That the girl who lives across the hall is having a party, and I can hear bursts of laughter and singing. That I understand the desperation that some old people seem to have, just to be seen by someone else. I understand the need they have to look for proof of their own existence, wishing they could pull it out whenever they needed it, like a magician who hides a scarf up his sleeve.