Post Categories

1984 (1) 40 (2) 6th grade (1) ADD (1) ADHD (4) Alexis (1) armageddon (1) armpit farts (1) art (1) barracuda (1) basement (1) bathing suit (1) being thorough (1) Bigfoot (1) birthday (3) blog (1) boys (2) Brian Regan (1) burrow (8) butterfly (1) camera (1) cameras (1) CAVA (4) celebrity (1) checkpoint (1) Christian (1) coarse threads (1) college (1) Cone of Shame (1) costumes (1) crusades (1) Diane (1) Disneyland (1) donuts (1) Easter (1) editing (1) editor (1) ee cummings (1) Elvis (1) Facebook (1) family (1) Farewell (1) Farrell's (2) fashion (1) first day of school (1) focus (2) Fountain Valley (1) Fulton (4) Gavin (20) geek (2) God (2) God's gift (1) Grace (22) grammar (1) Grandpa Charlie (1) Grant (3) groceries (1) Halloween (1) hang-gliding (1) Harry Potter (1) Henry (5) high school (1) hip hop (1) history (1) Hogwarts (1) homeschooling (2) humor (1) Jay (1) Joan of Arc (1) Kellen (2) Kirk (1) language (1) Las Vegas (1) laugh (1) Lawrence Welk (1) Lawrences (1) Legoland (1) Legos (1) lessons (1) literature (1) Luigi (1) Marco Polo (1) Mario (1) Melissa (2) Michelle (1) Michelle Obama (1) mission (2) Moiola (1) Mr. Andy (1) MYART (3) names (1) National Grammar Day (1) nudity (1) OCD (1) pajamas (1) parenting (1) patience (1) Peter Pan (1) petting zoo (1) photography (1) pi (2) piano (1) Pokemon (2) Ponyo (1) precision (1) Raelee (1) Renaissance (1) Renoir (1) Rhonda (1) Robin Hood (1) Rod (1) Rowling (1) Sean (19) Shakespeare (3) spelling (1) spogg (2) Sporcle (1) St. Patrick's Day (1) stalkers (1) Star Wars (1) stupid stuff (1) success (1) survival (1) Talk like a Pirate Day (1) tapestry (1) Target (2) Teen Titans (1) the hub (2) twins (1) Twitter (1) typos (1) UCLA (1) Uncle Mike (1) undesirables (1) Unforseen conclusion (1) Uno (1) vacation (2) video (1) video games (1) walk of fame (1) Warhol (1) wine (1) Wooden (1) words (1)

Monday, December 6, 2010

The world is full of boring people and sad stalkers

It occurred to me the other day as I logged out of Facebook that I am fairly disappointed in people's daily, secret lives. In fact, I've discovered that most people's daily secret lives are incredibly and mind-numbingly boring. Just so you know, this makes me feel loads better about my own life trapped at home in the burrow. Knowing that other people's lives are as mundane as mine takes a lot of pressure off of me. I don't have to work to be interesting or relevant. I can wear my sweats all day. In fact, I think I will do both and then tweet about it, and people will read it. Huzzah! Greatest American Novel? Forget it; I'm blogging about hygiene again with perhaps a little dose of what the dog ate.

I used to wonder wistfully what regular people did during the day. I vaguely remember what I used to do besides work -- it involved errands and planning ahead and lots of banking. Now I know what others do. I know everything they do. They go to the gym. They go for coffee. Or they shop. And then they tell me -- and the whole Facebook world -- about it. "Oh Hey," I read on a recent post, "Stacy just pulled in to Trader Joe's." or "Look, Grace's 1st grade teacher is having coffee at Starbucks." It got me thinking that while I am happy that I am as ordinary as the rest of them, I am also disappointed in the human race for not being more interesting. FYI: When you ask someone what's going on in their lives and they answer "nothing," you need to believe them. People, you need to liven things up!

Even celebrities' lives are boring because they tweet or post the same type of stuff. What happened to the secret lives of celebrities? Are celebrities really as dull as the rest of us? Do they just want us to think that they are? If so, why? If you are going to be a celebrity, then be a celebrity. Tell us that you got the last table at a fancy restaurant that I cannot afford to eat at. Tell us that a famous designer just dropped off a whole new wardrobe for you. These things don't happen to the rest of us, and we'd like some insight into why we feel the need to worship you from afar. If it's because you are shopping with your family or taking a coffee break, then I'm confused. I do those things, and no one has given me the cover of Vogue. I realize that you are gorgeous, but I have gorgeous friends and no one is after them.

Which leads me to another point: I am starting to feel bad for stalkers. You used to need real skill to stalk someone (and a good pair of infrared goggles, a trusty map and a notebook -- not that I know anything about it). Now all you need is your phone and a global network. Why? Because people keep telling us where they are. Even celebrities. I think this bothers me most of all. If you've just arrived at a certain store and you let us know, or you are a celebrity and you tweet that you just finished a great meal at The Ivy or whathaveyou, then your stalker has a pretty good idea as to your whereabouts. He or she doesn't even have to try. It kind of takes the fun out of it. And for all our talk about safety and taking precautions in this scary ol' world, what are you doing mapping out the route back to your house?

Thank goodness for Charlie Sheen and his never-ending parade of debauchery to keep us on the right track. Not only does he never quite know where he is (presumably so he can foil his stalkers), but he also lives the celebrity lifestyle that I'm waiting to hear about. Charlie and celebs like him do things I cannot or will not do. For example, I don't have the wherewithal or the desire to destroy a hotel room with a hooker. I do not have the power to request only green M&M's in my candy bowl. I cannot in good conscience smack things with my guitar or get thrown off a plane. Those are tweet-worthy items. They may not make me worship Charlie Sheen and others of his ilk, but I'm pretty sure I can be amazed for a few short minutes. Truth is stranger than fiction, and sometimes we all need a dose of strange.

It used to be that the joy of logging on to Facebook was to catch up with friends who I won't see anytime soon and to look at their pictures or to read funny stories about things going on halfway across the world. Facebook has been brilliant in this regard, bringing people closer and helping us forge and maintain friendships that would have taken years with any other medium. The downside, of course, is our subjective lens when it comes to what is interesting or newsworthy. There are clever posters; there are sentimental posters; there are political posters and game posters (more cows for my farm, please). Then there are the "super posters," whose very job, they believe, is to keep you up-to-date. They believe in quantity not quality . . . or relevance . . . or even good judgment. Discernment, mystery. These are words missing from the vocabularies of super posters.

So please, friends, update me when Dylan makes his first touchdown or you need support because your twins are down with the flu, and it just sucks. Tell me about your latest trip to Costa Rica or the fact that your cat had 17 kittens and you are going crazy. These are the moments I want to hear about because they aren't happening to me. What I'd rather not hear about is your shopping, anything involving you and your spouse, bathroom issues, or any of the totally boring and ordinary things that are happening in my life too. Be mysterious. Show discernment, and who knows? Maybe I'll take up stalking again.