Via the friend-of-a-friend sort of thing, I started reading the blog of a young woman (college age) in Norway. She mostly blogs in English. I’ve never asked her why, but if I didn’t know she was from Trondheim, I’d never have guessed. Her use of English is quirky, but not so much more so than some of my other friends.
She started having some problems and talking about them, and I commented, sometimes telling her about applicable things I’d seen, sometimes asking questions that (she said) made her think rather than simply react, sometimes simply being sympathetic and telling her someone wished her well. They’re all things I do in the way of listening, just this time it was in writing instead of in person.
Somewhere in the process, I seem to have acquired another fledgling. She e-mails me now to talk things over that she doesn’t want to post publicly in her blog. It seems what I have to say matters to her. We’ve never met in person, but that doesn’t matter to her, or really much to me. In everything but making her tea and listening in my own living room, it’s exactly like the other fledglings I’ve had. On the one hand, it feels perfectly normal. But when I stop to think about it, I find it utterly mind-boggling.
Welcome to the 21st Century!