Narcissism or keeping the rust off?

One of the worst things in the entire world happened the other day. This may or may not be borderline worse than my car (possibly?) biting the dust. So, clearly, this must be a horrible, horrible occurrence, right?

Wrong.

Boyfriend indirectly discovered the existence of my livejournal. I have managed to keep hidden the fact that I still hold onto my good ol' LJ as if it were a security blanket from many the past suitor. Silly me, and my big mouth. He read some of it, including certain things that I necessarily did not want him to read. When he finished reading one particular post in which my mood was listed as 'disappointed,' I asked him if he was mad at me for the things I wrote. His response both reassured me and raised more questions for me. "It's not like you wrote anything in here that you didn't already tell me."

He went on to say that he just didn't understand how anyone could put their lives out there on the internet like that. I responded with what I felt has always been my reasoning; I write in these blogs because I like to write. I like to get my thoughts out on paper (screen?) so that I can keep up with writing as a craft. I don't write papers anymore; I (should be) just grade them. When I eventually get back to teaching, I want to be able to continue to do as well as teach. This is the reason why, in this blog specifically, I try to be as gramatically correct and literate as possible. I want to present my thoughts to an audience in a dignified way.

But then I got to thinking about his comments. Is keeping up with my writing the only reason that I keep these blogs? Or is there a more narcissistic element to it? To be fair, whenever anyone writes, they have to be writing with an audience in mind. Would narcissism even be the correct term for it? Perhaps it's more dramatic or histrionic or a "look-at-me" kind of attitude that drives my desire to post my thoughts for the world to see. And at the same time, I do keep my audience in mind, because I can go back to LJ entries from almost five years ago and have no effing clue what I was talking about because I wrote about whatever was troubling me so cryptically. So, obviously, I don't want my audience to know everything there is to know about me.

It's an intriguing topic, one I would like to ruminate on for hours. However, I am at work, and I should get back to work. One thing I do know for certain: focusing on really writing this entry and making it thoughtful and perhaps thought-provoking did take my mind off the fact that my mother made me feel like an asshole to the point of tears earlier today. So, score one for blogging.