Downtown mural, Keene, NH

You know, yesterday I realized that if the Keene Chamber of Commerce ever happened upon my blog, they’d have a coronary. Here I am giving the whole blogosphere the notion that Keene’s a crappy town filled with run-down, decrepit factories! So this photo provides a more Chamber-of-Commerce approved version of our happy little town. Come to happy, shiny Keene, where we have good fortune, vitality, and bagels a’plenty! In our rainbow-happy world, we walk hand-in-hand with persons of all races and sizes, communing joyously with one another and with nature…

Yeah, whatever. It’s a cool mural, and it gives me a way to show PEOPLE (albeit imaginary ones) without having to face my “issues” with photographing actual identifiable strangers…

In an unrelated story, I’m beginning to think that Kathleen from unsettled is stalking me. (Of course, she might think the same about me…) I don’t usually get paranoid about this sort of thing: delusions of grandeur, yes; paranoias, no. But if the big wide world of cyberspace continues to get any smaller, I’m going to be entirely creeped out…

See, although my blogroll is listed alphabetically, in my MIND its members are separated into several groups. There are, for example, the place-bloggers I know via Ecotone. I have Zen blogs and Christian blogs and New Hampshire blogs and photo blogs and how-the-heck-did-she-ever-find-this-one blogs. In my mind at least, these categories are pretty well-defined: although there is, of course, nothing stopping people from browsing anywhere, I just don’t expect to see Fred commenting on Dakini or Ivy brushing elbows with BigHominid. Nothing’s STOPPING these folks from meeting and mingling, of course, I just don’t EXPECT it. I mean, they all know me, but I don’t necessarily expect them to know one another: I mean, how would they…

It’s like when you’re showering at the gym: you’re not expecting to run into your boss or co-workers (unless, of course, you work out at work). And when you go to your kid’s play-group, you aren’t expecting to run into folks from the gym, and you don’t expect to see co-workers at your church, or the mall…

In the “real world,” we run in various circles, but these circles often don’t mix or mingle. And so we have a certain persona or image that we cultivate in one place that might not fit in another: the way we act at the gym or at play-group or at church might not match the way we act at work. Our best friend at work might have nothing in common with our favorite drinking buddy, and neither of them might have anything in common with our spouse…

So, imagine the weirdness that ensued when earlier today I clicked on over to this site only to find it linking back to, you guessed it, Kathleen. Now, I’ve met Kathleen, I adore Kathleen, and I’m loving the fact that she bought me margaritas to celebrate the completion of that last diss chapter draft. (Thank you, thank you, thank you: tequila make me happy!) But never in a thousand million years was I expecting to see a reference to Kathleen on moleskinerie. I mean, Kathleen might have some self-admitted obsessions, but a OCD-ish insistence on a certain kind of notebook just ain’t one of ’em!

Colony Mill Marketplace, Keene, NH

Okay, so a site I read links back to another site I read, whose meticulously anonymous author I’ve met in person: big bleepin’ deal. Well, the creepy coincidences don’t stop there. A couple days ago when I mentioned slipping on ice and landing in a mud puddle, that happened in the parking lot of this local marketplace, which I know Kathleen sometimes frequents. At the moment when I fell, I was actually thinking about Kathleen, as in “Wouldn’t it be funny to run into Kathleen…” So when I thought I heard someone calling my name (great, now I’m hearing voices), I turned to see if it was she when SPLAT into the puddle I fell.

Yeah, so? Well, come to find out that Kathleen WAS shopping at this very same marketplace that afternoon, and on her way home she saw what she thought was a random woman walking a fluffy red dog but who turned out to be yours truly, unrecognizable in my Russian-style fake fur hat…

So you see, I think she’s following me. Or I’m following her. Or maybe this town/blogosphere just ain’t big enough for the both of us.