Until recently, I had a livejournal. As is the way with such things, I filled it with observations about my life, my friends, my job, and my interests; an entry I wrote about why is here. The journal was open to all; I never wanted to use friends-only postings because (a) it would have excluded those friends who didn't have a livejournal account of their own and/or didn't want one, and (b) it would have felt too much like I was talking about people behind their backs.
In hindsight, this was perhaps a foolish position to hold. One day, one of my friends discovered the journal, and they were not impressed by what they read. The journal eventually made its way into the hands of my (ex)-employer; they also were not impressed by what they read.
There are two issues here, and one of them I understand more than the other. Writing as I did, publicly, about the lives and business of other people was clearly a betrayal of trust. It was a mistake that I wish I could undo. At the same time, however, I genuinely didn't think the content of the entries I'd written was offensive. I thought I'd portrayed all the parties involved fairly. I believed I was writing more about my own flaws than about those of others. And as far as I'm concerned, I never lied. If there were mistakes in the journal - and the present circumstances would tend to suggest that there were - then obviously the responsibility is entirely my own, but I only ever wrote what I believed to be the truth.
Gratifyingly, the majority of my journal-reading friends also thought the parties concerned were portrayed in a reasonable light, but in the end, neither their opinion nor my own matters. Offence is in the eye of the beholder. My writings had offended people; the journal had to go.
So it went.
Yes, I was threatened with legal action if it didn't go (invasion of privacy, breach of contract and defamation of character, if you're interested), but that wasn't really necessary. All they had to do was ask, and it would have gone anyway; I really don't like the idea that something I wrote could have hurt someone, still less that it could have done so unintentionally. I like to believe I have more control over my words than that. And particularly when the people concerned are friends and colleagues I respect and care for, it's just about the worst feeling in the world.
So this is by way of an explanation, on the off chance that there was someone I don't know reading, and it is an apology to those I hurt. Any insult was unintentional, and I'm sorry for it; I can't think of a person I wrote about that I wouldn't value as a friend. I tend not to write much about people I don't like.
In theory, I could get a replacement journal. That has its attractions; I've just deleted five months of my life, after all. Five months of conversations with my friends. I miss that outlet already. But if I got a new journal, I'd have to keep it secret, keep it safe, keep it private, and that doesn't appeal to me. If I wanted private, I'd have a diary. I wanted public, so I had a weblog, and I screwed it up.
- Niall Harrison, february 2003
Update 24/02/03: OK, so I couldn't live without a blog, and have acquired another one. I'll just have to make sure I don't abuse it this time.