Maybe it’s just me, but it seems a mild depression overcomes me whenever I peruse the “Freshly Pressed” pages on WordPress.
Everybody is not only younger, but seems to be traveling to exciting places, some of which I’d have no desire to go to even if I had known about them. Most seem to be excellent photographers.
Many seem to be excellent cooks, and post pictures of their creations that make my mouth water. Anything I made that looked that good would generally be eaten before I had time to reach for a camera. After all, that’s what you made it for.
The pictures of their cute kids in adorable poses even makes me nervous about reproduction. I’d have to marry Miss Universe to get a shot at having kids that look that good.
Then there is a level of literary and cinematic criticism that would make the New York Times Arts and Leisure section look like the local Pennysaver classified-ads rag. I can barely remember the last movie I saw, and some of these folks seem to remember everything they’ve ever seen, complete with dialogue and cinematography.
It reminds me of the television shows and advertisements of days gone by. Even though the people in them were supposed to be “average”, their lives were nothing like my own. Their lives never seemed to have any normal routine, nobody went to work, or if they did, they never seemed to be fatigued by it like the people I knew.
Of course these shows (and the commercials that sponsored them) were based in magical places like Los Angeles and New York, while my day to day existence in a dingy mill town in Wisconsin just never seemed to have the pizazz of TV-land.
I suspect the blogosphere is the same way. People tend to want to present the sanitized version of themselves, the one that is scrubbed up and wearing their good shoes.
But I kind of like the “real”, which is hard to find. The people who tell about their failures, the amiably pissed-off, those who reveal something of their real lives beyond just the mundane.
I’d rather read about somebody’s struggles and triumphs in the everyday world than about someone’s backpacking trip to Thailand. The former is a unique trip, while the latter is usually just a hipster doing what the other hipsters do.
Everybody has a story to tell, why do so many people want to tell the same one?