I was wondering—with so many people blogging, pouring their hearts out online for all and sundry to read and respond, how does that change the definition of a diary/journal?  What does that do to the privacy issue?  If a young girl blogs her heart out on a website about her first true love and her sexual blossoming and her various experimentations with drugs, alcohol, sex, cutting school, what have you, is it invading her privacy if her mother finds out about it by following a series of links found somewhere on the family Internet account?  (this scenario can also be applied to adult circumstances, as well)  Could a diary found under the bed now be considered fair game, when the same information is published online? 

 Let’s face it, we’ve all written stuff we don’t want SOMEONE to read, and have posted it for everyone else on the face of the earth to see…  We’ve all felt the need to expose our souls and be recognized and accepted for the things we possibly wouldn’t tell our best friend, or for things we simply weren’t brave enough to take credit for in the flesh.  That’s what a journal and a diary and even a blog are for—it satisfies that very human need of acceptance and recognition and provides a sanctuary were we can truly be ourselves without exposing our faces. 

But does the blog nullify the ever-important privacy issue?  What if we write in longhand and keep the papers in a secret place, or save them electronically under a password, and then ALSO post the same thing on the Internet?  It would be invading our privacy if someone found those papers, or decoded that password and read our deepest secrets, but not if we publish those same secrets online, and everyone reads about them.  It’s a little double-sided, isn’t it?

 What it comes down to, then, is that privacy only concerns oneself and select individuals.  We can tell the world about our deepest secrets, but if the one person we want to keep those secrets from finds out about it in a sneaky way, then that person has invaded our privacy—never mind that everyone else on earth knows about them and can freely access documentation of them...

 But then again, how many people actually read these things?  Of the few people who have hit this post, how many of you have suffered along to this point and plan to keep going?  Most of us are probably maintaining a lot more privacy than we want.  Or are we?

  Brave souls, the lot of us.

 ***

 My interview went very well, this morning.  I even got there in one piece, without getting lost!  What a wuss I am, right?  Driving in Germany is a bit of a challenge, but I went well prepared with a detailed route courtesy of MapQuest.com.  We used MapQuest last week to get to the Consulate in Frankfurt, too, and from now on, I won’t use anything else!

 I did take a wrong turn coming back, however, but it was easily remedied by taking a u-turn on a road just off the Autobahn, resulting in nothing more than one man honking his horn and cursing loudly at me.  I heard him though his window, a space of open air between the cars, my window, the air conditioner, and my radio.  He was pretty pissed.   Didn’t phase me, however.  I was high on confidence and couldn’t care less.

 Anyway, the interview, as I mentioned before, went very well and I was there for a little over an hour.  One of my interviewers was impressed by my Loyola education, having gone to Notre Dame himself.  He reminded me a lot of one of my uncles, not just by his black Irish hair and hazel eyes, but his manner was very similar to my uncle’s as well—very intelligent, whose mind is always on the go.  It’s easy to be intimidated by people like him, but I felt comfortable, and knew how to respond.

 The woman who interviewed me reminded me of my best friend. 

 Overall, I left feeling very good about it all.  If I get it, that would be good.  If not, then it just wasn’t meant to be.  It also pays remarkably well.  If only I could find a job that pays that much in the States…

 ***

 My son is having a difficult time right now.  He wears an eye patch over one eye to strengthen the other.  He’s been wearing it for two years, and still has trouble dealing with the discomfort and inconvenience.   He’s begging me, in tears and temper, to let him take it off.  It breaks my heart that he’s so unhappy with it, and it hurts that I have to tell him he must leave it on until a certain time each day.  So he goes through these cycles where he’s okay with it, and the days pass with no complaint.  But there are days like today, when he starts whinging and complaining around noon.  We go back and forth for a little while, making me feel exasperated and irritated, and making my son feel powerless and frustrated, and physically uncomfortable.  And just when you think the argument is over and can get back to the order of the day, it starts up again.