CAN WE PLEASE BE REAL ABOUT BEING "REAL?"

The thoughts I'm about to attempt to communicate have been swirling around in my head for a while now, years maybe—little wisps of thought that bothered me, floating around sporadically as they came. I would hear a news story or read an article or see a post on social media and I knew that somewhere in my brain there was something I wanted to say about them all, but I couldn't quite articulate what that was. So I went on observing, all the while growing more and more bothered by the fact that my thoughts on these matters wouldn't come together. 

Until today, when I exploded on my husband (metaphorically) in the car about how ridiculous something I read on the internet was. (I guess sometimes it takes a little raging and ranting for thoughts to come rushing together.) 

(At least for me.)

But before I get to them, I'd like to say first that this isn't meant to be condescending. I used to be on the other side of this issue, and I've harped on technology and social media hundreds of times in the past--and I still do. Quite a bit, actually. (To be honest—I think it's really stupid.) But there's a certain type of harping going on in society that is becoming so prevalent, I worry that it's becoming unintentionally destructive. Allow me to explain.

Everyone, lately, is obsessed with being "real." Women are encouraged, or rather pressured, to post pictures of themselves online with no makeup on. Women who like to look put together out in public in lieu of donning sweatpants to class are labeled as "fake", "insecure", or "trying too hard." People who predominantly post happy things and aesthetically-pleasing pictures on social media are scorned for "portraying their lives as perfect" and "not being real." 

This obsession grew out of and is fed by news channels and celebrities and marketing campaigns that report that when people appear to be only happy on social media, it damages other people's self confidence. It can even make others depressed to see you smiling. 

But why is this such a revelation to people? Why is anyone surprised? Why was there an article in my school's newspaper last month about a new study that apparently just discovered people can feel sad, depressed, or lonely when they look at others' social media accounts? It's common sense—I mean, I'd feel pretty lonely too if all the time I spent interacting socially was with my face twelve inches away from a screen, sitting in a dark room eating buckets of Goldfish and wondering why my hair doesn't look as good as so-and-so's and why I don't really know any of my so-called "friends." Hasn't everyone known for eons that a person cloistered up in their house might be a little sad? And is it really the internet that has all of a sudden made people compare themselves to other people? I don't think so.

If you're getting depressed by looking at everyone's "seemingly" perfect lives on social media, then stop following them or looking at them—just like you would in real life if something upset you. You're not forced to immerse yourself in things that fill your life with negativity. You can choose what you surround yourself with—you're in control. If it's making you miserable, cut it out of your life. Don't expect other people to post a picture of themselves crying with the caption "I'm really not happy ever! I never should have gone to culinary school! Worst decision of my life!" to make you feel better about yourself.

That's employing a philosophy about happiness that everyone knows doesn't work—thinking you can feel better about yourself by seeing other people failing or feeling upset or looking bad. You know, building yourself up by watching others being torn down. Why should seeing a post on Facebook about your "friend" having a rough day and failing a math test make you feel better about yourself? Or happy? 

But Camryn, you say, it's not like we hate people! We just like to know that other people are struggling to be reminded that it's okay that we sometimes struggle, too. 

Well that's all well and good, but that's the thing about all of this that bothers me:

Don't we all know that everyone is human?

Don't we all know that everyone isn't perfect?

Don't we all know that everyone isn't happy all the time?

I thought that was the case—I mean come on, we hear it preached by society enough. But honestly, I'm not sure we do. If we truly knew this, then we wouldn't let ourselves be outraged by the fact that Amanda retouches her blemishes on her pictures, or that David only writes about the positive things going on in his life, or that Jessica takes adorable, well-composed photographs of her family and likes to share them with everyone.

We, being realistic and rational, would realize that Amanda is probably worried about her skin every time she steps out the door, that David could have gotten a bad test score for every good one he announces, and that Jessica likely has days where she crashes onto the couch in tears feeling completely overwhelmed by her role as a mother of three little ones.

Because we have experienced it too. Sadness. And, well, I wasn't expecting to go here but here I am: if you've seen Inside Out, you know that sadness, and being vulnerable in that sadness, is pretty darn important to our emotional health. But people deal with their hardships and feelings in different ways. Some people really like sharing these feelings with others by talking about them online. And if that works for them and others in their situation, that's great. Wonderful, even. But other people? Some of us feel most comfortable privately talking about our rough patches or disappointments with our parents or a friend. Some of us would rather not share our makeup-less moments with the world. And we shouldn't condemn these people for appearing "perfect" online because of that and not being "real." That's how this redefinition of "real" in our society can actually turn destructive—when people are being pressured to share all of their dirty laundry online for everyone to see. Do we really need to know every sad detail about someone's life in order to believe he or she is a "real" person? Is everyone obligated to share that simply because they have a Facebook account? No. And quite frankly, not everyone needs to see that, and not everyone is going to be as gentle or kind with that information as they should be. And to be honest, most people don't want to see it. Don't believe me? 

Exhibit A: No one enjoys being friends with the people on Facebook that always post sad things. I can't begin to count how many times I've heard people talk about how much that annoys them or brings them down. (Check out Slide 7 here, or this article if you still don't understand what I'm talking about. I would advise you to pay attention to the last few paragraphs. Ahem.) People often complain about those who "overshare" on social media. Well, then, I have to ask, where's the line between being "real" and "oversharing?" 

Exactly.

Is it really so weird that people want to present themselves well online? And is it really so bad? We don't go to job interviews in our pajamas, carrying our favorite blanket. We don't go on a first date with dripping wet hair and head-gear gracing our face. We don't meet our future in-laws and immediately disclose every personal issue we've had in the past month. We try to be our best! We try to look like the normal, functioning human being we typically are but sometimes struggle to be! And no one ever says people who try to appear their best in these situations aren't "real." So why can't this common sense translate over to the internet? Why must we get so outraged or perplexed by the fact that people want to look good, or talk about their successes, or put their best foot forward in the virtual world just like they do in real life? Why doesn't this make sense to people? 

Do we all have to post one depressing, unsightly, or otherwise down-trodden thing on social media for every happy, uplifting, or beautiful thing? Would that end this "problem" everyone can't seem to get over? Would it stop making people compare themselves to others or feel sad when they go online? 

Do I need to share with the internet every time my husband and I get in an argument, every time I feel useless and unmotivated, or every time I don't do the best on a homework assignment? No. But I would hope that anyone who reads this blog realizes that I'm not some perfect robot woman because my writing lacks those details. I would hope that you would use that wonderful brain you were bestowed with to remember, even if the signs aren't there, that no one is perfect. We say that about celebrities all the time—we enjoy realizing that they're people too. If you can understand that the people whose bodies are photoshopped and expertly styled, with pockets bursting with money still aren't always happy, then geez—you should certainly be able to do the same with anyone else on your social media news feed.

No one should have to post pictures of themselves without makeup on to feel "real." No one should have to feel bad when they choose to post about positive things that happen in their lives. And no one should have to post every minuscule thing that happens to them— good and bad—to let people know that they're "real" and that everyone struggles and everyone has rough days. 

The same thing goes with real life—actual, real life.

The internet has nothing to do with it. 

WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

A couple semesters ago in a class dedicated to studying the early inhabitants of the British Isles, we learned that the Celts considered words to be a sort of magic. Ogham stones, bearing the marks of their primitive language, were never even used for writing down stories because of the magical power they believed words possessed. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Yes, we might not be Goidelic Celtic pagans who believe in morally ambiguous mythical beings you can interact with in liminal spaces, but the magic is still there today.

But really, though.

Sometimes I think we may as well all be wizards and witches, because words—all the words we use every day—have power. We don’t even need a wand, and we can make the same things occur. You might not be able to levitate a person, but you can elevate their spirits. You might not be able to inflict physical damage with the flick of a wand, but even one word can cause emotional pain that’s even worse. But you can actually put a person to sleep with words. I’ve experienced it in class before, and that’s some real magic right there.

The study of English is the study of words, and the ideas and truths that are shaped when words are strung together—ideas and truths that have resonated with mankind since the Epic of Gilgamesh was carved in cuneiform on clay tablets. That’s why I love my English classes—because I love digging for truth. It lies at the core of every poem, every story worth reading that has ever been written. That’s what everyone writes about, what everyone writes for. To find the truth, to wrestle with truth, to share the truth as they see it. And the only medium they can use is words. That’s it. And it fascinates me.

Sometimes when I begin to answer a text message, my mind is boggled with the millions of ways I could respond—the near-infinite treasure trove of words at my fingertips. The same feeling often comes when I begin to write a research paper or respond to someone in conversation. There are so many words I could use, so many different ways to convey the same idea, the same truth. It’s kind of amazing. Words have so much power—for good or for evil.

And I don’t think people realize this.

It pains me to read comments, articles, blogs, and conversations on the internet that are filled with hate, written by people who, because of the anonymity of the internet, choose to use destructive words because they aren’t face to face with the people they aim to tear down. It honestly makes me kind of sick—you have the power to uplift and influence the lives of others positively, simply by the words you use. If you’re filling your respective corner of the internet or the corners of others with hurtful words, you’re choosing to misuse your gift of language. And it makes me sad to see it. You have so many words to choose from. Think about the power behind the ones you use before you spread evil instead of good. Do you really want to be that kind of person?

The more I read and study the powerful writing of the greats that have come before me (just read “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” out loud and tell me you don’t feel some magic), the more I desire to construct my words in a beautiful way—the more I long to share truth and uplift those around me. All I have are words, and as long as I’m living I’m going to use their power for good.

You have over a million words to choose from.

Please choose the good ones.

I AM GOING TO BE A USELESS GRANDMOTHER

As I've been sitting here, rediscovering the fact that hey, I have a blog and whoa, I can write on it and stuff, I had a thought:

If I never delete this blog, will it just exist...forever? Floating upon the waves of cyberspace for eternity? Is the internet infinite? Can it...die? If so, should I be spending more time with it? (Just kidding).

Which made me think, with all of the social media we engage in today, we're going to be irrelevant as grandparents. Why? Because we're always told to learn more about our grandparents and get to know them and listen to their stories. But because of the internet, our grandchildren are going to have access to all of those things. So we'll basically be completely useless.

Don't believe me? Consider the following:

"Oh, it's so nice that you grandkids came to visit! It's been so long—my, how you've grown! Eat up the cookies—they're a special recipe that—"

"That you found on Pinterest when you were in college. I know. I looked at all of your old Pinterest boards once for a family history project in school. Funny how your actual wedding didn't look anything like the thousands of pictures you pinned on that wedding board, eh?"

"Oh...yes, I forgot that you did that. And yes...it is funny. But once you are actually about to get married, you'd be surprised how little you care about the decorations..."

"Okay."

"Why, back in my day—"

"I know all about your day. And what you thought about at the time. I read your old blog, Grandma."

"Oh...*coughs*...you did, huh?"

"Yep. So I already know all of your stories and what your life used to be like. You don't need to tell me about any of that stuff."

"I guess you're right. So...what am I supposed to do now?"

"...We can just eat some of those cookies, I guess."

"Okay."

"And maybe you could, like, knit me something?"

LIVING AMONG ROBOTS: LIFE IN THE 21ST CENTURY

Mere decades ago, people looked ahead to our day and age and predicted fantastical, scientific breakthroughs—holograms, teleportations, and hovercars streaking through the air faster than the speed of light. They suspected that we would be an advanced society, living alongside intelligent, near-human computers—robots, even— in a world vastly different from their own. Today, of course, we laugh at such ideas. Sure, our technology is certainly advanced, and continues to do so, but time travel? Visiting other galaxies? Inconceivable.

But the thing is...I live in a world of robots.

Don't understand what I'm saying? Consider, for a moment, the typical college student of today: the young person constantly, mindlessly sucked into the virtual reality of advanced technology—the smart phone. I can't go anywhere without seeing one of my peers using one.

I can't go anywhere without feeling like I am surrounded by robots.

What happened to the quiet, in-between moments of everyday life being spent in contemplation, study, or meaningful, in-person conversation? Really. Because now, in lieu of such pastimes, it appears to me as though every spare minute of the day, and, increasingly, even the minutes when we should be focusing our attention elsewhere, must be spent on a phone. Because apparently, retreating to a quiet place to ponder about your life, observing and being aware of the world and people around you, or simply paying attention to your friends, (your 'real life,' tangible, in-person friends), is not as important as scrolling through a social media app or getting to the next level of Candy Crush.

I must admit that I recently found myself wanting a smart phone. I was hoping I'd get one for Christmas, actually. But since then my feelings have changed, and this occurred mostly because I've analyzed why I wanted one:

Was it to simplify my life? No.

For documenting every single meal I ate? No.

To have everything in one place and therefore limit the amount of devices I use? No.

I wanted a smart phone because I felt disconnected from a lot of my friends.

I didn't have a snapchat, I couldn't be a part of the legendary "group message," I felt as though I was missing some sort of elusive ingredient that I believed would magically improve my relationships with people. I would be more "connected" with them and not feel like such an outcast because my phone has a sliding keyboard and just so happens to be more than six months old. *gasp*

What I have come to realize is that if that's what "being connected" is—sitting with a group of friends, each glued to his or her smart phone and being mentally and emotionally elsewhere instead of enjoying each other's company— then I'd rather be "disconnected" any day. ANY day. And I'm certainly not bitter at all—on the contrary, I feel more content and emboldened than ever after coming to this realization.

Because real life? Observing the great big world around us? Actually talking to people face-to-face instead of constantly taking selfies to shoddily replicate that interaction? All of that is so much better, so much more fulfilling than whatever is found on a three and a half inch screen.

But then of course, I wouldn't know— I'm not a robot.

ON TECHNOLOGY AND GRANDCHILDREN...AND FEELINGS. AND OTHER POSSIBLY IMPORTANT THINGS

Recently I've found myself dwelling on the future, which, although not an unusual pastime for me, has turned into a vastly different train of thought. (I also have to say that I've been dwelling on my disgraceful lack of writing on this blog, and how LAME I feel because of that. Anyways.)

I've been thinking about how all of the technology that has infused itself into our society is going to effect our posterity. I mean, think about it! With the videos and photographs and blogs and social media outlets that we inhabit with every insignificant detail of our lives, our children and grandchildren are going to be able to see us and understand us in our young ages in a way that we never were able to with our grandparents...and even our parents. My grandchildren will be able to see multiple, if not thousands of pictures of me as a young adult and, should Facebook ever be made archival, how I interacted with my friends. And then there's me, with all I know about my grandparents at my age contained within a few old faded photographs and handwritten letters or journals that leave me wishing that I had a better idea of what they were like way back when.

And I thought about how incredible it will be for my progeny to have so much access and insight into who I am RIGHT NOW when I'm old and wrinkly and retelling the same stories over and over again while they pretend to love me and don't bother to hide the rolling of their eyes because I can no longer see anything...yeah...I promise I'm not bitter about growing up...

But anyways, the point is that I was viewing this in a completely positive light...until today. A couple whom I am somewhat acquainted with recently got engaged, and a video of the guy proposing was uploaded to Facebook. A video. It was taken by someone hiding in a bush or some other form of shrubbery who was obviously set up by the guy getting down on one knee. It was really far away, it was blurry, and you couldn't hear a single thing except for the heavy breathing and stifled fits of happy laughter from the person behind the camera. I've been aware that the whole "sneaky picture of the girl's reaction to the proposal" has become a fad recently, but now...a video? Really?

The existence of this video got me dwelling on the irony of our excess usage of technology. Yes, we have a lot of technology, but does that mean that we have to use it? We're pressured to think that we need to record everything in our lives now with these tools, but I can't help but ask, can't some things be private? Can't some events and aspects of our lives be personal and not out in the public domain for everyone to see? I believe there's something incredibly romantic about the idea that when I'm proposed to someday, it'll be just between me and the man I'm planning to spend the rest of my life with- a moment that only the two of us will experience, and no one else will ever see. I think that things like this should be intimate and personal and kept between those who are actually involved instead of projected to the world of social media for all of the nosy, snooping people (who believe that they're entitled to know everything about your life because you have a Facebook account) to witness.

And is it really important that we capture that moment on video? Do your children really need to see a blurry video with no sound in order to believe that you were actually proposed to? I mean, I've never seen videos of my parents and grandparents from back then and I'm still comfortable believing that they got married! Are we really going to sit around with our kids someday and say, "This was a selfie that I took before a football game one time. Oh, and this was a selfie that I took the next day driving to work. Ah, those were the days, kids. And you can tell how cool I was by how much of my lip is protruding from my duck face." 

Yes, our posterity is going to have a lot more access to our lives now because of technology, but...how much does it really matter? 

Although I honestly do think it's cool that we'll have more stuff to show our children, there's something to be said about the magic of storytelling and imagining. I know that someday I'd rather sit my daughters down and tell them the story of how I was proposed to, complete with vivid descriptions and details of what I remember from that moment and how I was feeling than show them fifty almost-identical shots of my reaction and a low-quality video taken by a hired roommate creeping in a bush. I'd rather have them create a glorious image in their respective minds of what it was like, even if it's completely off, because then that memory will be their own. Something beautiful is lost in absolutes. Recording absolutely everything leaves little to the imagination, and the imagination is so important.

I mean, that's the reason why there aren't pictures in novels, right? An author provides us with rich descriptions and details, and from mere words on a page we construct appearances and landscapes that are so real that we get all hot and bothered when a movie based on the book comes out and it doesn't look exactly how we pictured it. Because we LIVED it. Authors know that allowing us to create an image in our heads makes it so much more real to us than saying "there once was a young boy named Harry Potter and here are thirty actual pictures of him at different angles so you know exactly what he looked like and as you can see his scar is exactly one-and-a-half inches long and at a 45 degree angle right above his right eye, which is actually a lot less green than you'd imagine it to be."

Yeah. That would have tanked.

So I guess what this all boils down to is the fact that I'm scared about what all of this technology is doing to us and what it will do to our children's children who at some point will, like me, want to know more about their grandparents. Some of the prospects really do seem amazing, and I'm excited for them to know so much more about me than I did about mine, but...I hope that our obsession with preserving moments and images doesn't interfere with truly experiencing life ourselves. It can be fun, and it's definitely revolutionary, but how much of our drive to document is for nostalgia's sake and how much of it comes from our desire to go home and post it on Facebook to see how much attention it gets? 

It's worth thinking about.

When I get engaged someday (in the far, far distant future...which is, like, very far away), I want to know that my husband cares more about me and the very personal and special moment in which he asks me to be his forever than making sure he gets my reaction on camera so that all of his Facebook friends can experience it later...right along with me. It will be a moment meant for two people that won't be witnessed by hundreds of others, and it will be perfect for that very reason.

I just think that we could all do for a little bit of privacy in this overwhelmingly public world.

...I sincerely hope I'm not the only one.