Sunday, May 16, 2010
To Whom It May Concern:
There are times when I wish my blog wasn't so personal; or at least that it didn't reveal so much about me, personally. I recently found, for the first time, the website of a close friend who has managed the writing and upkeep of a blog wherein the details of his life are kept very ambiguous, where names are changed, exact locations omitted--but the truth, the story, is told. With no sugar-coating, and perhaps even a couple extra dashes (handfuls) of spice. When I revealed to this person, privately, that I had super-sleuthed my way to the elusive URL, I immediately regretted my smug "A-Ha!" proclamation. I mean, did I just blow a cover? The cover between him and me? The writing is superlative --smart, witty...but it might make some people squirm. The word "underbelly" does come to mind, but then again, it's an outlet, and dare I say...art? How freeing, to have a separate space to air your joys and grievances-other than your one blog; your one blog that is frequented, largely, by people you see at the grocery store. High school friends, relatives, your husband's co-workers. Human beings that you see in 3-D, and not to mention, carpool. Lately, I'm thinking I would love some anonymity of expression; but --and get this--my friend has a whole other social circle born out of the project. I don't know if I want that, necessarily; mostly because I'm lazy, but also because I want the people already in my life to love me no matter if what I say makes them uncomfortable. I want my friends-in-low-places without having to go to the trouble of changing everybody's names in my story, remembering who's who, etc. So, come on, guys--can you head on down to the oasis with me? Probably not.
So, yes, we've been riding out some storms lately, and I can't honey-up the truth that we have been hurt, in a really big way, by people we believed knew who we are. And we feel alone--only, no one is really talking about it, including me, because....well, I don't think it's right. For me. I don't want to contribute to the mess of words and confusion, or I should say MY HUSBAND doesn't want US to. He is Good. Really-a much better man than I am woman. He can weather, whereas I am blown around, flabbergasted at the nerve and injustice and nonsense. I don't like tea and conversation. If something's not right, I want to blow the lid off it. I believe I get this trait directly from my mother, who, when it came time for our town's elementary school fundraiser, refused to let me sell Nestle candy bars door-to-door with all the other children. Now, I don't know the whole story, all I remember is it had something to do with the Big Baby Formula Company pushing their products on impoverished mothers in developing nations, mothers who were not only ill-equipped to read the formula's mixing directions, but in most cases, had no clean water with which to mix the product. Of course, I was only in second grade when she bestowed upon me this lesson in corporate watchdogging (awkward!), but I got the message. If it's not right, stand up. Or sit down, walk out, sit in, stay home--whatever speaks the truth.
And yet. There is something to being silent, and waiting, when it's your own personal trial. Maybe, what I'm saying is, I need a hero? Or maybe, I wish I could be the hero? The speaker-upper? Or that my blog could, at least sometimes, be a little bit more here's-what-really-happened? But, how can I do that when the person I love most in life says to wait? I'm the one that wants to be right. And all of the sudden, I'm listening to him?
"Honey", I said, testing the waters as he walked out the door tonight. "What about this, maybe not on my blog, but as a Facebook update?" Then I fed him a carefully worded zinger; a witty barb I'd never say out loud, but that behind the cybershield of social media seemed like fair game.
He just looked at me and smiled. "You will get a turn to say what you have to say. Just right it down; don't push send."
"But I want them to SUFFER NOW! AS I AM SUFFERING!" I raised a fist in witness to my strife.
Sometimes, I like to pretend I'm God. But it's usually much too difficult and tiresome and with my heaps of pride and insecurity and super-sized imagination, I'd make a better Gollum. And, regarding Facebook, I've never been a fan of cryptic and/or passive-aggressive status updates. They make me all nervous--like, who are you talking about? Am I the one whose mouth is writing checks that her butt can't cash? Just tell me!
If I had an blog alter-ego, it would be tempting, quite, to let the truth and dirty laundry fly, no-holds-barred, granny underpants on the clothes-line style. And I'm sure that I could get lots of people to hear me, believe me, side with me, and maybe even turn the tide with me (oh my goodness I sound like Jay-Z!), but ultimately, that's not...me. Furthermore, I'm fairly certain that this is the type of behavior that makes Jesus start biting his nails. Who wants that on their conscience?
At the end of the day, this, here, is my truth. Maybe it's not always the move-that-bus reveal I want, but it's the outlet I need, and can handle. And anything I'd add in the way of particulars would be someone else's tale to tell. I'd be reporting other people's bad behavior, which they probably, sadly, aren't aware of. Dummies. And then imagine me, with a Jerry Springer blog...an expose´? I think I'll just stick to my own shortcomings, tend my own acre, in which I can assure you, are weeds aplenty, along with one unruly gardenia. Goodnight.
**Note: If any of you dear readers has a secret or lesser-known blog, or a blogter-ego, please know that I'm not condemning the practice. I'm only scoffing at my own yearning for one-because, frankly, it's not that I want an outlet, I just want to make other people look bad-at least as bad as they made me feel. Only, I don't want to take the heat for it. I guess that makes me the biggest dummy, not to mention a perfect candidate for Forgiveness 101. Do you think you could you love me anyway?