underneath the table.

This blog used to be called “random thoughts from underneath the table”. It was a funny title, mostly because people don’t understand why anyone would be talking or writing from underneath the table. Still, the theme continues as even though I’ve changed the name of this blog, it’s tagline is “notes from underneath the table”. Today, I’m going to explain this funny set of titles.

When I was a kid (from very young), my favourite activity was throwing a blanket over my parents’ round coffee table, climbing underneath it and playing, in a fort-like manner. I was a tiny kid, and fitted underneath there quite easily. It looked something like this.

It was my most favourite place in the whole world. I could shut the entire world out (nobody could see me) yet hear everything that was going on around me. I could choose to ignore the noise, or listen to the world of my family as they talked around me. As a loner-type kid (still am, haha), this was the perfect solution to my life. It was the smallest space in the house, but it felt like the most comfortable spot on the planet to me.

Being underneath the table was my safe place in the world. 

My parents knew they could talk to me while I was under there (whether or not I’d thrown the blanket over it or not). I was sufficiently connected to the world around me, but detached enough to escape into my own world of play underneath there. My dad would say he’d hear my voice “squeaking out from underneath the table”.

Now, as an adult, I still love being underneath the table, both literally and figuratively. When I worked in an office, and I’d get stressed out over something, I’d sit underneath my desk while I figured out a problem or took a breather. People would look at me weirdly but, really – who has to apologise for their safe place in the world? Nowadays, too, sometimes it is a comfort for me to escape underneath my desk and type, or think. Now you know why I like having a big desk. Roomy underneath is a big win in my world!

So, when I started writing this blog the billion Internet years ago that I did, I thought of the safest place I could to title it. And now you know why.

And that brings me to Twitter. 140 characters of blurted out statements that someone can respond to, or completely ignore. I can just say X and whether or not someone responds is just fine. At the same time, I can read and watch the world go by from within my little world. I can choose to respond to something, or I can choose to not. I can “listen” but not have to engage. Sound familiar yet?

And now you know.