What to say when there isn’t much going on or the story gets tragic and personal? Blogs—at least this blog—don’t seem the venue for it. Facebook and Twitter are even worse. Though I do, on occasion, see someone post a status about life’s occasional suckiness, it’s usually in a self-deprecating and humorous tone. Never too serious unless, of course, life is delightful.
So this picture we get—it’s more like the (very) cropped image of a smiling couple, beautiful and young, staring deep into each other’s eyes. The scene is pretty and makes you smile, the vicarious fragrance of it all. What you don’t see is the towering grizzly roaring above them, trying to decide which head to bite off first.
Well….you know what I mean. That bear could be money problems, a lame job, no job, a job that really asks nothing of you. It could be love problems, fear, depression, or too much of a good time drinking every night. The hidden story is, perhaps, a story we need more of—the danger, the edge—but where do we draw the lines that makes our daily lives livable? Tell too much and what intimacy is left to savor yourself? What private despair to keep you up all night long.
p.s. we’re not really going to be eaten by a bear.
Matt,
There are several blogs I read where the authors do write with honesty, bravery and self-reflection about the suckiness and the good stuff– indeed these folks are starting the art-making process in their blogging. So, the writing in the blog is a kind of drafting — only there’s an audience that reads the draft or the pre-writing or whatever you call the writing that comes before the art-making. Which is pretty cool, though difficult (I’m not brave.).
I think there’s still a personal intimacy because the writer, I’m guessing, eventually makes the poem in her own, other private space that isn’t about the blog. But, I think you’re touching on an issue that writers come up against whether blogging or writing a short story or poem or a letter. How much to reveal & how much to keep private. Elizabeth Bishop in her poetry managed that line one way; Anne Sexton another. I guess we each find our our path. Blogging is yet another place to be alert to how much to share as we engage in social networking.
Thanks for the thoughtful comments Pam. It’s interesting that you bring up the idea of blogging as a sort of drafting for other mediums. I sometimes feel this way, though not for poetry. Somehow I separate the two (blogging & poetry) in my mind and quite willingly get into the dirty details in my poems (including the assumption that all poems are not autobiographical). Though to do so in the blog would feel a little melodramatic. Perhaps it has to do with the self-publishing aspect of a blog. I don’t mean to say that people who expose the dark parts of their lives are only seeking attention—that is something to be considered case by case—but I also have a hard time thinking that telling only a good story is somehow dishonest (or even less honest). It’s less a matter of each piece as a compilation of the pieces and what story that tells.
I am interested how the latter (of another’s life) influences our perceptions of our own lives. If I believed that Facebook told me the whole story I’d be even more jealous of some friends than I already am. But I have to remind myself what is left out. Sometimes it’s relevant, sometimes not.
The piece I am most interested in, though, is what happens when we tell all? Does it damage us to have no privacy, no intimacy, no secrets? Does tweeting make the mundane even more mundane? Small joys or sorrows. It doesn’t matter. It’s just the sharing I care about.
Hmmm–damage us? I don’t know about whether or not facebook or tweeting do harm vis a vis over-sharing. I think there’s probably too much sharing but then I tend to be a private, shy person. That’s reflected in my own blog, which doesn’t offer much personal info. Tweeting does seem to emphasize the mundane. But I’ve not had much exposure to tweeting.
But you’re wondering about the impact on perception. I’ll ponder that idea. But first off to ponder dinner!
I try to write about both, the suckiness and the happiness. In the writing, I do find myself leaning toward the latter but that’s partially because the act of writing makes me happier. It helps me sort through the suckiness and see it for what it is. Or isn’t.
On second glance, the bear is seldom as big as I thought.
good thoughts from both of you.
p.s. things are good.
pps. I love bears.