I love the WC blog. It’s how I wish my blog was, but it isn’t. Have you ever noticed how much blogs and high school class reunions have in common? (I’ve never been to a high school class reunion: I’ve just heard stories.)
Everyone says that the 10-year class reunion is the very worst. Everyone comes back, and while puffing their chests and lifting their noses, they reveal their successes over the last 10 years. I picture each person talking about himself in the best possible light—and then embellishing. The stories are a little too great. The personal successes a little too incredible. Not everyone can be a self-made millionaire in 10 years, right?
Sometimes that’s how blogs seem. The stories are a little too great. The family circumstances are a little too perfect. It reminds me of my old journals—the ones where I never had a bad day because if I did, people would know I wasn’t perfect. That’s how blogs are. Most blogs, anyway. And I’m afraid mine is the same way. But I can’t write what I really feel because people don’t want to see that. I have to be aware of my audience, right? But I’m a little too aware. Most people are a little too aware. And so I try not to say much of anything. I just post pictures and provide few words. And then I wonder why I have a blog.
I’m glad this blog exists because it’s real, and on this blog, I can be real, too.
P.S. School’s out for summer!