Delighting with duplicity

This blogging is turning out to be fun. It seems to be functioning the purpose it was begun for - structured, regimental writing.

Three people asked me if I wasn't scared by the fact that the world is privy to information about me through this blog. My response is, "No, of course not. Everyone who really matters usually ends up knowing all about me anyway," implying that the others I don't know, don't matter.

One of them nodded sagely and said, "Oh, I forget you are a star."
Which is true enough, even if he meant only to flatter and severely mock.
(I hope that's the correct spelling of severely, yes, it is.) See that's another thing, I'm actually beginning to realise that there are words I don't know, and lots more that I do know and can use effortlessly.

No, but seriously the personal stuff doesn't bother me. It's like my attitude to nudity. Everyone has the same body for precisely the same purposes with a couple of gender variations, so what's the sense in acting all coy and holier-than-thou about cleavage and/or nude art?

But like I'd have issues with pictures/videos of my nude self suddenly appearing on the internet (if I haven't been paid a million of trillions of Euros before they do; remember I'm a star) I have issues with blogging - that my originality of thought (ahem) can easily be duplicated without anyone following the correct IPR policies.

And so when I began to write my blog, I consciously began writing only those things that are not mindblowingly brilliant (so people cannot steal my real ideas and expressions).

I meant to write fairly interestingly so that the stray visitor (who doesn't get bogged down by the long blog - say that five times real fast) can actually be entertained for a couple of minutes even as I get my daily practice of actual writing (editing so takes a toll on one's creative self).

So the blog business for me, is a bit of a con-job; a little duplicity is involved here. So if you cringe when you read me and say, "Oh look, Bhumika's writing all about herself, how embarrasing this spontaneous overflow of emotion is."

I say, "Oh no, my sweet, Bhumika is merely delighting with duplicity."

Oh how clever I am. Now if you do read something really brilliant here, you know a superlative to describe my genius still eludes you, because the best is still unpublished.

And so, I'm fairly flushed with my success. Happy anniversary to me. Muah.