{Published} The most interesting person I talk to ≠ myself

I have been AWOL from this blog for a while. Just last week, I wrote an article explaining my absence; it appeared in a local newspaper. 

I've read other bloggers who describe their experience going through "blog maturity" or "blog evolution" (which, as you might guess, refers to a period of re-thinking and perhaps re-inventing what your blog is). I suppose you could say that I have experienced something similar in this corner of the inter-web. I will let my article do the talking.
I have re-posted the text below or you can follow the link to the newspaper's website.

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The most interesting person I talk to ≠ myself

Do you remember Margery Williams’s childhood classic, The Velveteen Rabbit? The story is about a toy rabbit—made of velveteen and stuffed with sawdust—who lived in a nursery and belonged to a little boy. The rabbit desired to become Real. He learned about “being Real” from his fellow-nursery-toy, the Skin Horse:

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day…“Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?” 

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.” 

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. 

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.” 

“Does it happen all at once..,” he asked, “or bit by bit?” 

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly…”

I used to keep a blog, chronicling my great love of DIY (“do-it-yourself”) home projects. As fun as it was, I reached a point when I started questioning how Real it really was. On the one hand, I loved having a reason (i.e. my blog) to tap into my creative side and come up with new project ideas to pursue around the house. I also loved that I could connect with people who shared a common interest (interior design and home improvement), particularly my family and friends. 

On the other hand, as time went by, I observed within myself an isolating effect that blogging had. I remember a particular Saturday afternoon. I had just finished writing three posts for the upcoming week. As I wrapped things up, I was struck with the realization that I had not interacted with anyone for the entire day. And yet, as I sat writing my blog posts, I had felt as if I were being social, telling stories—which were all funny and brilliant to my own reading—to people…but no one was actually there. What hit me that day was
the realization: Blogging isn’t Real. Sure, the voice I used in my writing was the same as it would have been were I telling the story of my latest home project to my mom, my sister or my friend. Moreover, there was a very good chance that all three of them would read what I had written in the coming days as those blog posts were published. 

But, when it’s all said and done, no personal interaction was going to transpire. Despite exclamation points, “LOLs,” and emoticons, the reader wouldn’t really know the excitement and the frustration I felt as I told the story of trying to pull 50,000 staples out of a chair I found on the side of the road or of figuring out how to arrange pictures on my bedroom wall. I wouldn’t witness their reactions to what I had said. I was missing out on hearing their ideas. I wouldn’t know if I had made them laugh or if I had annoyed them. I wouldn't even hear their silence. It was as if blogging was just a glorified conversation with myself. 

Before I go on, I must say that social media/technology isn’t bad. It’s more of a mixed blessing. I can’t deny that I did experience certain benefits through blogging. Indeed, the practice of blogging was an impetus for a kind of self-exploration, through which I discerned certain gifts in myself that I previously hadn’t given much credit. My creativity is an asset, not just an accidental. I enrich my own life and, more importantly to me, I enrich others’ lives by my capacity towards the creative. 

This second point—enriching the lives of others through my creativity—was something I learned through blogging and what ultimately led me to realize that blogging isn’t Real. In discovering that I had something to give to others, I desired to give more of myself than I had in the past. It was, I think, precisely then that I hit a metaphorical brick-wall: I couldn’t give anything to anyone through staring at a computer screen. 

As I sat staring at my computer screen, an eerie, empty ickiness rose inside of me. What bothered me the most was that blogging provided an illusion of companionship without the demands of friendship. Blogging was a convenient way of acknowledging that I had something to give, but I wasn’t actually, really giving anything. The gift began to seem meaningless outside of the context of someone to give it to. 

Reflecting on the story of The Velveteen Rabbit relative to my life, I saw an important lesson about being human. I want to live a life that is Real. When have I felt most Real? Without a doubt it is in the moments when I am living life right alongside of another person, especially a friend or a loved one. Even the most mundane event of ordinary life becomes infinitely more exhilarating when experienced with or for another person. There is something about the person-to-person contact with another—whether it be a family member, a friend, a colleague or a random stranger—that just makes life so much more Real. 

How did I resolve this predicament that I seemed to get myself into through blog
ging? Initially, out of self-righteous annoyance at myself, I kept away from blogging in favor of making greater effort to reach out to friends more personally. I have been very surprised to find multiple people asking me why I had stopped and wondering what newest project I am up to. This is very humbling. Also very humbling is how often now friends ask for and value my input on design-related things. Where I thought my blogging might be hurting my friendships it actually, in a small way, was helping. 

As the title of this column says, I am not the most interesting person I talk to; however I still have something to say. Social media can be an excellent conduit for supplementing the ties with people with whom we have previously established friendships. Yet, at least in my own case, I need to monitor myself for balance because these are not sufficient to sustain a relationship by itself. It has added a new dimension to some of my dearest friendships. And because these are some of my dearest friends I want to be sure that my keeping a blog doesn’t cause our friendship to become one-dimensional. I still blog every-so-often for the sake of my friends, but I have never again spent a day sitting alone at my computer. 

Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI says in his last encyclical Caritas in Veritate, “in the love we receive there is always an element of surprise” (#77). One of those surprises, as the Skin Horse says in The Velveteen Rabbit, is that “when you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”  There is joy to be found in the demands of friendship with others, a joy and demand I don’t want to ever fear or shirk.  I will keep blogging as long as I “don’t mind being hurt.” 

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So, there it is, folks. Moral of the story is that I will be trying to do a better job of checking in more frequently. Talk to you soon!