Back in the day, you could say anything on your blog, in a chat room, or where ever on the web and it wouldn’t matter because you were the only person you knew who had “internets” or whatever they called this thing. In 1998 I was the first one to have email in my family. Actually, it was my husband, who got it in a package along with grad school and kindly let me share his account. Eventually, I got my own account … a Netscape  one … yeah, it was a while ago. I had a website where I published articles which virtually no one ever read but the good part was I could say whatever I wanted without fear of reprecussions.

That was then. Now, there’s no privacy on the web anymore. Now, everytime I turn around someone is asking to add me on FaceBook or following my Twitter stream and with about 2000 unique visitors a month here at this site, there’s no way of knowing which of my arch-enemies are reading this and making notes of my typos.

Back then, I could shoot off my mouth at will, on a website, blog, or any portion of cyberspace, and never worry that someone from my family or from work, or from anywhere, really, was going to read what I wrote and, more importantly, associate my virtual web words with a real flesh and blood person, me, who was sitting across from them at an actual wood table. I could complain about anyone, anything, anywhere, and it would never get back to anybody. The web was my virtual confessional.

Eventually, my parents got on the web and my dad started reading my blog, but since I didn’t have any fights with him at the time that didn’t matter. Now, however, it’s pretty safe to say that everyone is on the web, with the exception of those too young to read, and, overall, you are never safe complaining about some member of the immediate or extended family, friends, or people at work, and feeling safe that they won’t find out. Probably they will. They follow you on FaceBook, they get your Twitter updates.

I heard that my ex-husband’s wife followed my blog and my twitter account, but that was okay … whatever she found there, she probably didn’t like me anyway, deep down, so what did I care? But the gig was finally up when I put a rant on my old blog, The Kids are All Right, about a member of the extended family — and she read it. The next time I was over at her house, huge innuendos were dropped like size 12 shoes about my blog, and how many people read it, and various other allusions to what I’d written.

Drat, I thought, I can no longer vent on the web. Mea Culpa. As I said, the web is not a safe place.

You heard it here first.  Writing “Uncle George has really really ugly green golf pants that make me want to throw up” will seriously put you at risk for, next time you see Uncle G., him asking, “don’t like my golf pants?”

I’ve thought of changing my avatar, my alias, my byline — but it’s too late. Everyone knows where I am and I’ve worked for almost a year building up the name recognition, etc. for this site and I’m not going to do it again. I’m going to have to do this the old fashioned way from here on out, and watch what I say.

I’m sorry people, but the days of digital freedom are over.