Grump

So the thing about reading some of my favorite blogs is that I often feel like a failure. 

Something about the need to document and share everything in our lives spreads the expectation that what we have to share is always amazing. Sometimes it’s not; sometimes the thing I have to document, to share, is that I survived the day, that I didn’t yell at my son, that I made dinner on time. The beauty of what people do with their lives, what they choose to emphasize is often inspiring, but not always. Sometimes it just seems vain and full of an implication of how important the visuals are. We’ve become a society that’s incredibly focused on how things LOOK – is it quirky, funky, retro, modern, pretty, pretty ugly, deconstructed, causal? The town that my husband and I have chosen to live in often seems built on this principle – it’s a southern town based on old money with a prestigious university; people are always watching.

And, listen, it’s not that I don’t believe in beauty, ‘cause I really do. I like applying make-up and wearing a pretty dress with heels. I appreciate the aesthetic side of life; I just don’t like feeling ruled by it. Does any of that make sense? It’s like because I don’t care about how every square inch of my home looks, or spend hours online finding just the right shirt I don’t have value. Some people, either because of finances or their state of mind, can’t be bothered. I’m not talking about apathy, or slovenly-ness. I am addressing the state of living which recognizes the need to be visually approachable without taking it to extremes. We are a vain world and that doesn’t seem to be so bad to anyone anymore.

Then again, maybe I’m just jealous.