It’s strange that I write in public, for it occurs to me that I’m just not comfortable with global reach. Momentarily I think: “I must promote myself better.” A moment later, I’m telling myself: “No, be content to be unknown.”

The noise of social media gives me heart palpitations. To follow and be followed: it just reminds me that I have always resided on the periphery. Perhaps I took up this path because I never had a tribe. Feeling alienated from others, I decided to pursue the One alone.

I prefer to live my life far from the madding crowd, and yet here I am, writing in public, wondering if anybody is listening. Well, one or two, perhaps. Perhaps Sofja Umarik is onto something with her case that introversion is a gift.

Here I recall reflections I penned a decade ago (it’s incredible how time flies):

For, lo, what freedom! To be able to be talk and not be heard, or write and not be read — what a magnificent freedom is that! 


Yes, perhaps after all I am content with my station in life, here on the furthest periphery, embracing my inner nerd. I am what I am.

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