Nagoonberry

This world. This place. This life.

The Thing that (Might Have) Happened

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Yesterday I posted a comment on a blog that I have enjoyed for years.  I’ve commented there before, and have had friendly, non-argumentative comment conversations with the blogger.

My comment didn’t make it through comment moderation.  And that’s messing with my mind.  I keep trying to figure out what happened.  Here are some of the possible scenarios:

  • I had trouble signing in when I posted the comment.  Maybe there was a snafu on the tech side of things, and the comment never reached to blogger.
  • Over the years that I’ve read this blog, I’ve commented anonymously, then as my Blogger ID.  I don’t know if I’ve commented as the WordPress incarnation of Nagoonberry.  Maybe the blogger thought, “I don’t know who this is, and she sounds like a nut.”
  • The blog in question is loosely anonymous, as Nagoonberry is loosely anonymous.  Should I have introduced myself properly?  Was I wrong in assuming I could just jump into the conversation?
  • My comment was something I’ve thought about for a while, something about which I feel quite strongly.  Sometimes it’s hard to articulate those kinds of things, and it’s easy for a reader to misinterpret what we write.  Maybe the blogger felt I was being insulting?

I’m writing about it here because that’s what writers do.  When we can’t figure something out, when it runs around and around in our heads until we want to scream, we write.  It’s a desperate attempt to get it out of our heads.

I’m also writing about it here because I often find myself writing about community.  I’m interested in how online community mirrors face-to-face community.  Online experiences teach me about face-to-face, and vice versa.

So what’s the lesson?  Several, actually.

  • I need to stop taking this personally.  I have no idea what really happened.
  • I should figure out how to add a “contact me” option to Nagoonberry.  If someone had this experience on my blog, I’d like for them to have an option for checking in with me privately.
  • In the relationship dance, sometimes toes get stepped on.  The key is to keep on dancing.
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