My (rather empty) space (between my ears)

I did something I’ve been putting off for a while today. And I don’t mean washing, cutting my toe nails or telling my parents that I left a ham sandwich under my bed when I left. I opened/set-up a myspace page for myself.

Ever since the bebo/myspace invasion/explosion (gosh I’m using a lot of forward slashes this blog, can’t remember the last time I used ‘gosh’ either, must be a day of firsts…), I’ve been browsing about the sites and looking at people’s little self-portraits. Which is what they are, it’s how people see themselves, or rather how they’d prefer to be seen.

For example, girls always tend to have a slightly mysterious, exotic photo of themselves which usually bears little resemblance to their usual pose or appearance. People always list cool bands in the music section and very few tend to reference their family or anything that might tie them to immaturity and remove their self-confident invincibility.

I’m not sure that the last paragraph is criticism, though I feel I’ve definitely constructed it that way. There are worse things you could do than present yourself how you would like to be. In fact there is surely something positive in declaring your love of Bon Jovi to the world, that at least takes guts.

Am I allowed to see the good and the bad of the issue or does that make me a feckless fence sitter? Either way I think the view’s better from here on this one. In his autobiography, Jonny Cash leaves lots of issues like this, describing something he experienced and making no judgement simply says ‘I don’t know, what do you think?’

Though I digress into something I didn’t even plan to discuss (the joys and the evils of bebo/myspace).

Why i really wanted a myspace page was so that I could put some of the songs I recorded on it. I’ve spent the past month trawling through websites of bands I love, mostly irish ones, in a hankering after much missed gigs at the empire. And I found lots of interesting sites, of people I know and what they’re up to and looking up their friends and realising I know them too and wasn’t sure how they knew each other.

And I kind of put it off for a while for a couple of reasons, one perhaps a tad noble and the other down right ‘unregenerate’ (I love great words that have been lost to modern culture and now considered ‘dirty’. Consider ‘doctrine’, try talking about that and watch the punters stare at their shoes!).

The first was the usual self-analysis. That I already worry far too much about how I appear before others, too concerned with the praise of men. Obsessed that I might be one who sees it all coming, that isn’t gonna be caught unawares as a cliché. I care far too much for all this already and I saw a myspace page as another opportunity for uncontrolled narcissism. And that was meant to be the noble reason…

The second was a pure and simple fear fear of exposing myself – and no it’s not that type of website… what I mean is that by sticking these things on the net I was leaving myself open to people’s opinions on them, whether I ever knew about the opinions or not.

I started writing when I was about 16 – the diary, and then I started my ‘book’ (a collection of meandering thoughts and arguments – somewhat like this) when I was 19. I was intensely protective of it and even to date have only let less than 10 people have access to it – I didn’t say ‘read it’ cause I doubt most of them ever read it. I was scared cause somehow a rejected opinion or argument would be a personal tragedy.

The same reason I hid my Bon Jovi (yes I admit it…) when I discovered Radiohead, that somehow my ‘most impeccable’ taste was tarnished because of it. ‘The important thing is what you like, not what you are like’, the cynical refrain of Hi-Fidelity rang true with me.

So I’ve been putting this off for a while you can see.

In the end I think boredom got the better of me and I just put the darn things on tonight. So feel free, listen, criticise, cringe and possibly even enjoy. I could go on an endless rant of what I don’t like about what I write and how I recorded them, but that would be even more painful than listening to the songs themselves…

As a brief post script I suggest you check out andyneill.com and see what I could have been if I’d only got that Dictaphone for Christmas when I was seven…

Oh and yes the myspace is here

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