Sharing too much or not enough?

I just wanted to take this time to post a quick thought. I'm envious of the people who don't care about the reprocussions of their words.

For example, one of my recent favorite writers is Tucker Max, who talks about his various sexual escapades with a complete lack of thought to what anyone thinks about them. It's not the things that he does, it's that he does it in a witty manner, and isn't afraid to air his FILTHY laundry for the world to see.

I know my words will most likely at some point be seen by my parents, or potential employers.
While I know that I'm only sharing what I feel comfortable with on here, I also know that I'm a little envious of those other bloggers (some lesser known) that are okay with sharing intimate details of their lives, without fear of the wrath that may follow.

In songwriting, you're able to say what you think, but it's vague enough in most cases that you can get away with it. In blogging/journaling/writing - you own each word you write. Sometimes, not posting exactly what you think for fear of what others will think of you or your words, slows down your creative process.

I'm not yet comfortable to share some of my most intimate details and thoughts. Much less some of my actions. So, because of that, I'm completely envious of those who are.

It's not just those who write that I'm a little envious of. I think about all the people I watch performing, who are free enough to just be or say what they think- and not care what anyone else thinks.

On an episode of The Girls Next Door, I watched Kendra go back to San Diego with Hef and the other girls to meet her mom and grandparents. I can't imagine the horror of bringing Hugh Hefner to my parents house, much less if I was his girlfriend (well, one of three).

It's not that I don't love Hef, or the girls, or even Playboy... it's more along the lines of what my parents would think if they saw me half naked (or even fully naked) in a magazine or on a TV show (and not acting- but being myself).

I have lots of random thoughts, but here's the biggest concern I have... Why do I care?

At this point, I'm thirty years old. I don't really think that I should have to worry about what other people think, but I still worry what my parents think, and I will probably always worry about what may come of any actions that leave a lasting impression on my kids.

I have some great stories. Some hysterical stories, some embarrassing stories, some interesting stories... and though I desperately want to share just about everything... I hold back for the reason above.

Hm. Maybe I'm not as advanced in this writing thing as I thought.

They say that life is a string of experiences... but maybe the beauty of my life is the mystery of what I've experienced.