BlogLife Envy

Let's just start out by admitting that I am an ungrateful brat, and I need to get my head out of my behind and start serving in a sacrificial way. Yes, I know. I do.

Maybe if I did that, I wouldn't grit my teeth so much when I reply to the 1,000,000th email about the same darn thing, and I wouldn't imagine slinking out the back door with "a headache" and driving full speed to the beach so I could read a book from a lounge chair. And I wouldn't let other people's blogs make me feel so lame.

Are blogs the new fashion mags? Have we matured just enough to take a pass on the celebrity gossip, the royal watching, the impossibly thin women who have impossibly perfect hair, and all the ways these make us feel bad about our actual lives, only to be mired in an envious soup over other women's bathroom makeovers, adorable multi-racial families, Super Jesus-y prayer groups, and "Notes from my Dinner Party Journal" lives of leisure?

I guess I can only speak for myself, but yes, I think I have.

If the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, then I am standing knee-deep in some crunchy brown weeds.

I've convinced myself that blog reading is great for me. I feel inspired, I laugh, I cry, I jot down great ideas, I feel connected to people and missions that I have never actually brushed up against in real life. There are a couple of blogs that I don't see myself ever giving up (you know who you are), because they are the lives and adventures of my dear ones. They're permissible, I think, because when you know someone, you know that they mess up, struggle, wince, and regret. Pretty, anonymous blogs are a lot like airbrushed magazines - almost always puppies and rainbows, with just enough "Oops, we measured that mosaic back splash tile incorrectly!" and rained-out birthday parties to reconnect you to their humanness.

That pressure to be both perfect and human must be a burden for a pro or semi-famous blogger. When your DIY skirt turns out perfectly, the people rejoice. If your marriage falls apart (thinking of a very famous mommy-blogger who is in the midst of a divorce), the world is watching with some sharp sharp nails. In fact, one of my fave greeny bloggers actually shut down her blog under the pinch of this very pressure. She wrote very honestly about how painful it was for her to meet readers in person or via email who admired her SO much, that they actually felt badly about themselves because they were not as dedicated as she was, or even worse, not "as good a mom" as she was.... Whoa. I get it, though. How many pictures of Les and I snarking at each other do I post on facebook? Have I ever posted a pic of what we exasperatedly refer to as "poop town" - when AugDog decides that he would rather NOT do his business outside, but instead waits until we are asleep and then makes artful messes right next to his pee pad.... Nope. I don't post those. So Auggie remains the adorable eating and sleeping machine that the blog world knows and loves, and Les and I look like we spend most of the day with big grins on our faces, going for walks in the park or drinking white wine on the back deck.

All of this feels, to me, like the result of a big breakdown in community. With social media (including Facebook, twitter, blogs, Pinterest, and the like), we have almost complete control over the person we present to the world. We are all photogenic, garden-growing, game-winning, vacation-taking, gym-going, Jesus and Justice and Peace-loving rock stars with adorable families and exquisite taste. We curate our lives for people, and show them the best, the funniest, or the deepest parts of ourselves. And we can get away with it most of the time, because we are not in the thick of it with each other anymore. We're not down the street from our friend who is juggling 3 kids and a job, and we're certainly not rushing over to help when she's about to have a meltdown because we only see the tweet that says "Took the kids to the park! Beautiful day! Time to get home and get some work done!" and don't know that she's about to burst into tears. We don't spend enough time together doing random life stuff. We don't see into each other's messy kitchens or rattled relationships.

Maybe you do. If so, then gosh darn it, I'm envious of you too.

Because I long for community, even more so now that we have to build brand new relationships in a strange city. Blogs can be helpful when I'm trying to stay connected to dear one that I already know and love, but they are not going to help me grow any new roots here. So maybe it's time to go on blog fast? Only read the blogs of people I could call on the phone for a good cry and/or laugh. Maybe it will improve my attitude and my outlook to take a break from the Perfectly Polished Tales of Awesome Womanhood.