Leting Myself Be Known // If You Read This Email

First things first:  a huge thanks to the people who have helped me to get It's a Fine, Fine Life started (check out their links here.) It's so cool to see this idea becoming real as different bloggers get involved. For the eleventy billionth time:  I'm pretty excited about it.  

In other news, I got mock-elected for "Best Smile" in my senior class, which means that I get to have another picture of myself smiling awkwardly in the yearbook in addition to the one that's always there, year after year.  I find the whole situation ironic because that photo over on the left is a pretty accurate representation of how smiling usually goes to me.  I promise: the vast majority of pictures taken of me look almost exactly like that one.  

That was such a humble brag.  I hate that I did that, but not enough to take if out of this post, so I guess now we know something about me.  I'm a humble bragger.  Actually, I just kind of really wanted an excuse to use that photo on the internet.

In other other news, I've stumbled on some really great internet things lately.  Here you go: the 50 most beautiful quotes in The Great Gatsby + confessions at The Daily Tay (read the comments and thank me later) + beautiful, anonymous emails.  

Especially the emails. 

Allison, who always finds the coolest internet things for me to obsess over, did it again with If You Find This Email.  It's a website that publishes the letters that were never sent - to old friends grown apart or between people who have never met.  It all started with hundreds of emails, begging to be read.  Behind those, people needing desperately to be heard.  There are long, crazy stories and short lines of really great words, and I fell in love instantly.  As I scrolled down the page, through months of emails, I couldn't help but be amazed at the sheer number of people who had so much to say and only this place to say it.   

People need to be known.  It's almost ironic that, for all the constant connection and instant updates of right now, we're still missing that.  For all that's known about us, so little is known about what's in us.  We crave being real, raw understanding and honest connection.  

And connecting is a two-way street, and vulnerability is essential.  I can think of nothing more terrifying.  Oh, I want to be known, and known well, and I want to avoid the inevitable risk of all that.  I want to only give of myself when it's safe and shrink back when fear tells me that I'm taking it too far.   I don't know if it works that way. 

Safety jeopardizes relationships.  Who would have thought?  By erring on the side of caution when it comes to vulnerability, we gamble our chance of being not just heard, but understood.  I'm thinking that if I'm going to bother knowing people at all, it might be worth the risk to really know them.  And, yeah, to let them know me, as hard as that is. //

Allie

P.S.  More blog things at Treasure Tromp, right here!