Thursday, March 26, 2009

Tell all post

One of my classmates and I were discussing facebook and blogs last night during a break. He is in the bishopric in his ward and he told me that there are members in his ward that barely speak to each other in person but they are friends on facebook. Not only that, but they tell everyone that can see their profile every little detail of their lives. Then he stated that he didn't understand blogging either. I sort of found it amusing because he is not yet 30 and his wife is expecting their first baby any day. I did mention that Facebook is a great way for my mother to stay up to date with her grandchildren and reading her children's blogs gives us a bridge over the miles that physically seperate us.

I did continue to think about our conversation after class. Then I started thinking about the things that I publish on my Facebook and my blog. I started this blog as a place to review books- 2 coming up in the next week or so. I also started posting a few things about what was going on with the kids so my parents would know. Slowly I started posting a few more personal things, allowing a bit more of me to come through. And I started to have readers that were not family and I met new "friends" and we got to know each other through our blogs.

I also thought about the things I don't tell you. I sometimes think the things that I don't say tell you more about me than the things I do. If you could get a peek at my dashboard you would see that it is full of draft posts. Things I have written and then decided I didn't want to share but didn't want to delete for some reason or another. Tose posts will probably never be posted either. They are usually written when I am stressed or sad and they are a way for me clarify my thoughts. I just don't think I need to work that out in a public forum.

Right now I am having a period of that stress. I sit down to write and search my mind for what I want to say and all I get is


Nothing that isn't one of these stress situations.

So here is one more thing you know about me, when my posts are silly or filled with comics or those "tests" that tell you what car you are, etc. you can pretty much assume that I am in the middle of a high stress situation.

Unless the post is filled with pictures of kids' performances and/or grandbabies. Then I am just bragging or showing off.


add to kirtsy


G. Parker said...

It's amazing how people will post the most private thing about themselves on the most public forum...I've tried to be very careful and not mention cities or children's names or stuff, because my hubby is VERY paranoid about the web. One of my son's is on facebook, and almost everyone at work is on it. I can't believe the stuff they say or post...I'm REALLY careful on that one. That place is like a virus waiting to I'm glad we're friends, and I enjoy reading about your life. You probably feel you get nothing from my posts...huh? I guess if you really want to know, you'll ask. ;)

Karlene said...

When I was a kid in the early 60s, most of the women in my neighborhood were stay at home moms. When the weather was nice, we'd hang our laundry out on the line. Then my mom would go talk over the fence to the backyard neighbor--about life, kids, stress, etc.

Sometimes in the evenings, we'd sit out on the porch and the neighbors would wander over and the grown-ups would talk--about life, kids, stress, etc.

Now, most of us women work jobs in the day, care for our children in the afternoon and evenings, keep house, do all the things our mothers did (or try to), but we have no time to just talk to our neighbors. When we're home, our neighbors aren't.

But we still have that hard-wired need to connect with others, to share commonalities, to talk about life, kids, stress, etc.

I see blogging as the 21st century backyard fence and the regular readers & commenters as our virtual neighbors.

Yes, some people disclose waaaayy too much. But then, some people disclose to much in face-to-face interaction, as well. I think this is just our attempt to stay connected to others.