Blogging: Be Real

Carol lived a parallel life through the backyard gate. We played jacks together, boondoggled lanyard necklaces for our roller-skate keys, and told secrets as we hid between the damp, white bedsheets blowing on her clothesline.

I knew the nooks of her house, and she knew the crannies of mine. Her dad wore tidy-whiteys and sleeveless undershirts—hey, I saw them laying on the bathroom floor. Her mom wore a steel plated all-in-one bra/girdle contraption—I was there when she dashed out of the bedroom one day to answer the phone in the hall. About as noticeable as a kid snatching a cookie, I noticed everything.

Their living room was always immaculate—in fact the lamp shades had crackly clear-plastic protectors over them. I knew the throw rugs covering the beige carpet were taken up only seconds before guests arrived. (I'd helped Carol with that chore.) Even the piano was dressed up temporarily with a hymnbook, adding a touch of piety. Little wooden gates blocked sticky children from entering, so there were never any fingerprints on the windows, or stains on the couch. The living room was NOT a place for living.

It was funny to hear my mom marvel at how pristine Carol's house was. Mom visited when she was invited, sat where she was told, and saw what she was supposed to see. I, on the other hand, saw it all. I wasn't shocked or anything—in fact, it looked like our house. It was comforting, in a way, to see that my friend lived a similar life.

Blogs are places we visit friends these days. Is yours all spiffed up, perfect for company, with throw rugs hiding the scuff marks, and plastic protecting you from judgment? Or are all your unmentionables laying around for the neighbors to see? Are you oblivious to the sightseers who observe you when you're not covered up? Would your faith be evident even if the hymnbook wasn't front and center?

During my School Days Seminar I visited a lot of blogs. Some were too sanitary to be true. Others scared me with their dirt. The ones I've gone back to over and over are honest: genuine, authentic—real. Oh sure, there are smudges and crumbs, but hands are washed and a broom is handy. It feels comfortable.

Not everybody wants company to drop in, but I think most bloggers do. It's like we've moved into a new town, and we want folks to know good stuff about us, our talents, accomplishments and motivation. When someone comes calling we want them to be interested, to want us for a friend. But overwhelming our acquaintances with all the polished sterling silver might cause an "Are you for real?" response. Likewise, dumping all the trash at their feet could leave a bad smell.

Writing a blog implies inviting people into our story. While it's therapeutic to vent occasionally, I think most of us blog to record our experiences, gain understanding for ourselves, and hopefully share something worthwhile with the neighbors.

"The question is not can you make a difference?

You already do make a difference.
It's just a matter of what kind of difference you want to make."

—Julia Butterfly Hill

*Homework:

~Visit five different blogs and analyze how they make you feel and why. (Suggest your favorite in a comment.)

~Read some of your recent posts from a stranger's point of view. Does your blog do what you want it to? List five things you like and five things you'd like to change.

~In your next post write something less ideal, less conceal, and more real. Leave a link so we can check it out.

That's the write idea!