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Location: Work.
Listening: "Iowa" ~ Dar Williams.

This morning, I sent out a quick email to several friends, asking for their input on any photos I might want to post in this journal (essentially asking them if I could simply post away or if they wanted final veto power). I then spent the next few hours mulling over the fact that I had not only made my friends aware of the existence of my journal, but had provided them with the URL to boot. At the time, this seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do. However, I soon found myself wondering if there would be repercussions to this action in my writing--specifically, would the knowledge that people who know me on the other side of the screen are reading these entries engender self-censorship? Would I begin to consciously (or, worse, subconsciously) pull punches or veer away from more taboo topics, knowing that Williams or Dan or Marshall would eventually be talking to me, face-to-face? And beyond that--have I actually been self-censoring all along? Should I have been? Do I have a responsibility, as an on-line journaller, to my (until now) totally amorphous Schroedinger's Cat of a readership to avoid potentially offensive subject matter? Is there an etiquette to this that I've missed? Or should I assume that anyone accessing this journal is aware that the possibility of brutal honesty is high and therefore assumes all risk of injury to all manner of paradigms by reading? Further, what about my host, Journalscape (which happens to be run by a close friend)? Am I responsible for content on that level (even though there was a distinct absence of "terms and conditions" when I signed up)? And, if I'm not technically legally responsible, am I still ethically responsible to my friend to not post material he might find objectionable? Is the answer to this to start a "privileged group" for more explicit or at least dubious entries--or would this be undermining the reason I took on the journal project to begin with (ie. to learn to be completely honest with myself and to exercise that honesty by making my life public property)?

I sat in front of the screen, sipping coffee and brooding for several hours before Peter woke up, sat down in front of his monitor, and answered my questions for, well, both of us.

Since first reading the prose pieces on Peter's site, I've been in awe of his capacity for honesty--both with himself and with anyone who happens across his site. We've discussed this on several occasions and I expressed wonder at how much of himself he gives away in his work. More of that conversation can be found in the caption of a picture of me on his site--for now, I'll say that it's absolutely de rigeur for him to stun me with raw expression. So, when I read his entry just now, I wasn't surprised that he had chosen to document last night's phone call. I also wasn't surprised at the level to which he took his description, as we both tend to focus very much on the sensual in our work. I wasn't surprised by the quality of the piece--the boy's good, and I'm not just saying that because we're having exquisite phone sex. I was, however, surprised by my reaction to the piece.

Peter has been photographing me from almost the moment we met. One of the first evenings we spent in each other's presence, I had to quickly adapt to the constant click of the shutter and the presence of the lens in my peripheral vision. Oddly enough, this never bothered me; I accepted it as an organic occurence (as I accepted our subsequent relationship) and continued my conversations. When the first batch of pictures was developed, however, I was amazed at how utterly foreign I found those images. Peter's perceptions of me translated through film forced me to re-think my perceptions of myself. What he found attractive in my face, my expressions, etc. clearly did not match up with what I either found attractive or was trying to make attractive about myself and that was troubling on some level. I was left with the sensation that I was looking at another girl he had met; I just didn't recognize the "Leigh" that he had captured.

I felt a similar sense of confusion and curiosity reading his journal entry. While the technical details are absolutely accurate, his descriptions of my reactions are different from my perceptions of those reactions. Granted the differences are slight, but they're present, so once again it's like regarding another girl somehow--reading about the "Leigh" from Peter's pictures, a girl who is oftentimes much more self-possessed than I. It occurred to me, though, that this wasn't another girl--it was me and very likely the most genuine "me" I would ever get a glimpse of, considering that Peter is the first person with whom I've been able to be absolutely honest about myself and that self-perception is always skewed by insecurities. The "Leigh" he knows is who I am. I'm still trying to absorb this, as it was yet another moment when his honesty left me speechless. Or was it my own?

After reading through his entry one more time and then talking to him and to Kenny (who told me that I can post anything I please as long as it's not illegal), I've determined to follow his example. The only restriction that exists on my subject matter, explication, etc. is my mood. Please consider this fair warning.