Now that I’m no longer spending every single moment of my life counting down to race day, I get to write about some of my other passions! (Like reading, for example.)
This week’s post points out a few things on the internet this week worth reading.
Obviously, my faithful readers will be most interested in the following two articles:
- “Woman Trapped in Window Trying to Retrieve Poo After Tinder Date”
- “Italy Woman Marries Herself in ‘Fairytale without Prince'”
You guys will also appreciate these New Yorker cartoons:
aaaaaand one for the road:
Also, this is funny, even though it’s Miley Cyrus, simply because #millennials and #vocalfry. It’s basically the hopes and fears of an entire generation in an acai bowl.
Speaking of the opinion we have of ourselves, and what we want others to think about us (which Jane Austen’s Mary Bennet differentiates as vanity, for the latter, and pride, for the former PARDON THE OBLIGATORY NERDY TEACHER COMMENT), I recently read this great article in The New York Times “Modern Love” feature about how we think of ourselves through social media and how sometimes we (social media users, that is) change to become something that doesn’t reflect their very human “contradictions and desires.”
In a world of personal branding, is there any room for the human with all her normal inconsistencies, her contradictions, the thousand diversions and dozen strong passions that drive her? No, instead, we are only allowed to be one version of ourselves, a curated person that we build “without blueprints, not knowing that she would become a wall with no doors.”
In the essay, Clara Dollar cheapens our attempts at personal brands with her imagery that compares her Instagram account to a cardboard box: “And so it went, and I kept at the beautiful box I was crafting for myself. A shoe box covered in stickers and fake jewels. The kind you would make for a pet parakeet you have to bury…. In the morning I would post something silvery and eye catching. It was always just tinfoil, though, not truth. And I prayed no one would notice.”
Not wanting to offend my friends with successful personal brands (some of them authentic, quite un-annoying, actually), I suppose I should admit that the connection that I feel with Clara Dollar is as personal as this post.
What happens when Shasta’s Fog doesn’t reflect its author? What happens when, like Anne Bradstreet, an artist looks at her work, calling it a ruined child, an “ill-formed off-spring of my feeble brain”? What happens when she laments her “rambling brat (in print),” when she’d rather cast it “by as one unfit for light”? What happens when the shoe box is an auditorium too small, my mike is too loud, when I can’t say what wants to be said because it’s understood that Shasta’s Fog is smothered in “community” expectations? And what happens when I find that Shasta’s Fog’s silence may not be only a feature of a little blog, but a little closer to the quietness I’m told to curate because I live in a time and place where argument and discussion are not feminine, nor “Christian”? Ah, well. Let me not finish something with something with a bit of “depth, romanticism, and pain.”
I’ll just end with something light-hearted and funny so people keep coming back for more.
…Except that, I can’t find a funny meme just now, and all I really want to say is in that last paragraph.