Ten years ago, I was blogging my ass off.
Anonymously, writing about rude taxi drivers, crazy employers, sexual harassment, hate mail, my sex life, my stories, my life, in a city that was not mine and yet it was home.
I lived in Athens back then and clashed a lot with the mentality that keeps women in a second rate citizens position, without their knowledge.
It was easy to blog back then and therapeutic. No one I knew was in the internet, I could vent, rage, cry, and expose my mind to anyone who wanted to read, without making it about me, or the city, but just stories, of a random woman in the city.
It lasted while it lasted, till it was picked up by a publishing company. Then I moved to another city. There is no anonymity now, everything is linked. It is not about a random woman and her stories but about that woman and her opinions. More people are online today than before. I am older, slightly more tired, with a child that can read...everything contributing to my silence the past few years. I did not feel I had anything of value to add to the plethora of voices in the net, everybody had a story, everyone was the queen of Sheebah in their heads.
And I could not write in my native language, but in English. I was not sure I could.
But now I/m pissed at people again. Regardless of their nationality, it is not an ethnic thing, it is a decency thing, it is a need for me to write what ails me and hurts me and bothers me.
Sometimes I might add old posts from my time in Greece, or other stories. Just for the hell of it.
This is my telephone line to the unknown, to whomever wants to pick it up and listen.
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