The Challenge

Thus begins Blog Challenge 2010, in which Rachel and I compete to blog the most. The only rule is that we must blog every day for a month, then reward ourselves with green beer on St. Paddy's Day. This will be interesting, since I'm pretty lazy about writing in general...although I consider myself a writer. Hmm.... Anyway, lucky for me, I mostly blog about blogging, so really, I could just write endless drivel about how I write endless drivel and really say absolutely nothing of substance whatsoever. Since I'm using correct punctuation and grammar, however, this might see like a really amazing blog post chock full of original thoughts and ideas and keen insights into life. Which is does not...

This kind of reminds me of the song "Hook," by Blues Traveler, in which he sings about singing about nothing, but as long as the song sounds good, you'll listen. That was a great song. Still is, I suppose. It will forever remind me of middle school and I how I discovered the wondrous powers of the Internet by finding the lyrics online, printing them out (probably not on recycled paper, as it was 1997 and we didn't think about those things back then), and listening to a taped (yes, a cassette) version that I had recorded from DC101 over and over and over again while reading the lyrics so that I could FINALLY learn the words to that really fast part. Whew. And guess what? I DID IT. And I still know them. How's that for accomplishment?

So I have now set out on what I hope to be the second major accomplishment of my life -- beating Rachel at the Blog Challenge. As I commence with my pathetic blogging about blogging, I realize that the only reason we're really doing this is because Rachel gave up Facebook for Lent (she's not even Catholic, wtf?!?) and so she really needs something to occupy her time. Come to think of it, this is probably a very good way of keeping me off Facebook as well... Though I'm sure it also greatly hinders my progress at work. That's ok, day jobs are overrated anyway.

My dear friend's shunning of the addictive cultural phenomenon that is Facebook makes me think... I'm pretty addicted to Facebook myself. How have I become so obsessed with voyeuristically peering into the lives of people who I really could have cared less about in high school, could care even less about now, and yet I find so fascinating?? Perhaps it's because some of these people are married, they have children, they own houses, they seem like grownups... Then again, some of them still live with their parents, they work at gas stations, they play endless video games... And yet again, some of them are attending prestigious universities and traveling the world and starting businesses and saving starving children, and really having quite a lovely time doing it.

It's really quite bizarre how self-conscious Facebook has also made me, not that I wasn't before. While I generally think ugly pictures of myself are hilarious and have no qualms about posting them all over the place, I still covet the occasional picture where I can shallowly say, "Wow, I look HOT." And yes, I do care what those silly people who are lame and boring, or who are intelligent and interesting, see when they look at my Facebook profile. Are they appalled? Are they jealous? Do they laugh at my misfortunes? Do they think I'm a shameless bleeding heart liberal who kills babies and hugs trees and terrorists? Do they think I'm pretty? And why the hell do they care?

I guess it's human nature -- we want to know how the world perceives us, and we do our best to shape the world's perceptions of us. We express ourselves in order to create an image, even though we'd like to think that . Sometimes it's therapeutic to know that there might be someone out their envious of us, someone who thinks we're really pretty and smart and special. And yet, it's also therapeutic to remember that you're just one in 7 billion, quite literally...so most of the world doesn't really give a shit about you. So when you post those ugly pictures, only about 0.000000000000000001% of the world is even going to notice, if that. You're barely even making a ripple...

But as small as my ripple may be, I do often wonder, who Facebook stalks me? Who blog stalks me? As far as blogs, I can safely say Hello Angela! Hello April! Hello Heather! Hello Rachel, my dearest competition! Furthermore, who stalks me in real life (besides the creepy but nice hat and scarf salesman down the street from my office who mutters, "Beautiful..." under his breath when I walk by)? Then again, perhaps he does it to all the ladies who saunter past. And he can't really be stalking me if he doesn't move, just stands at his post. I suppose I've answered my own question...real life stalkers: 0. I think I'm ok with that.

But what about the others... Who is looking at my Facebook pictures today and what are they thinking? Why do they care about me? Then again, why do I care about peering into the lives of people I barely knew years ago and know even less now? The eternal questions linger...

So much for blogging about blogging. I guess "keen insights into life" aren't so hard after all.