This conversation ran between self and someone under 17. It went something like this:
Me: Hey V! I had no idea doing a blog was so much fun! Do you have a blog?
Teen looks at me as if I had asked her if she owned an iPod.
I realize that was a dumb question that needed no answer.
I try again, trying to curb my enthusiasm.
Me: Hey, that’s great! So, . . . what’s your blog called?
Teen looks at me as if I had asked her for her ATM Pin number.
I realize blogs in the Twilight world, are like patented formulas kept in Classified cyberdossiers, where young webmasters work on a Need-to-Know basis. You have to be *invited* into this super-exclusive club that even the richest most powerful person on earth can’t get access to. Unless that super powerful person is, well, under 21 lah, of course.
I retreat back into my dignity, which has taken one decade since adolescence to forge.
I look across at her mom 10 feet away, and am impressed by their chumminess. So, undaunted, I open my mouth to ask a third question, and attempt to multitask by releasing my foot that is stuck in it.
Me (with uncurbed enthusiasm): Does your mum read your blog too?
Teen looks at me as if I had suggested she give me the keys to her personal diary. It probably is black and funky, filled with lyrics of indie rock songs and the hopes and dreams of a typical teen on the verge of discovering the big wide world around her.
How quickly I forget that a blog to a teen is something so intensely personal that it might just as well be created for her eyes only!
Me, I want the whole world to know what I ate for breakfast and then some!