In Which I Poke The Bear, Defend Myself And Lose My Damned Mind

Don’t you hate it when you read a post where someone is bitching about something in the blogosphere and you think to yourself “Oh my God they are talking about ME!” and you want to run off to your own blog and write a raving post defending your own honor – except if you do you have to be all vague and discreet because if they are NOT talking about you, you will look like an ass and if they ARE talking about you they will just pretend like they’re not – and then when you’re all vague and stuff you will get 50 emails from people saying “Oh my God who are you talking about send me the link so that I can get all up in this new blog drama!!” and you go “Ack! Ack! No! No drama! Because I am probably just being stupid and now I feel like I am in junior high and Shit! Shit! Everything anyone has ever said about me is truuuuueeeee!”?

Me too. (See, this is what I love about you. You get me, Internets. You so do.)

I’m allowing myself this raving post defending my own honor anyway.

I recently read this on a blog that I frequent:

“I don’t have a personal identity crisis every four days so people can leave a message to get me to keep my chin up. I don’t secretly hate my marriage.”

I then read this about 24 hours later in the comments of the same blog:

“I am so sick of hearing about pedicures and diets and seeing people’s chest shot and hearing about pregnancy, like the stuff you were saying in your last post, or even the occasional supposedly “profound” post with commenters parroting “what a beautiful post, Bravo”.
Yuck.”

Allow me to suspend reality for just a moment and draw you in to a little place I like to call Britt’s Crazy Ass Brain. In this special place, when I read those words, the chatter immediately went to:

“Oh my God. Did he really just say that? He’s so clearly talking about me and the fact that I am constantly having something going on that I have to puke about on my blog. The marriage crack was pretty fucking low.

Wait a minute, and now someone is pissed about my hiLARious pedicure posts? And my brilliantly “profound” posts?!?! (Because clearly, if someone is talking about a “supposedly profound post” – they must be talking about me. Because I HAVE NO PROBLEM WITH AN EGO! Stop judging me!)

Why would they say that stuff about me? Why do they hate me? Why am I such a cry baby pee pee pants drama queen? Why can’t I come up with something to write that will not offend or annoy or alienate anyone in the whole wide world?!?!”

Now you know why we don’t call it “Britt’s Rational and Hugely Mature Brain.”

I tell you all that to tell you this:

I am fully aware that my response is irrational. I am also aware that whether those particular statements were directed specifically at me or not, it doesn’t change the fact that it is a common sentiment among bloggers. It is all too often that you find one of us eager to berate the quality of another’s content. Nor does it negate the fact that I really, really badly want to say this:

Fuck. Off.

It’s not a “personal identity crisis” or an attempt to get people to tell me to “keep my chin up”. It’s being 28 years old, married and having two kids. I’m not supposed to have shit all figured out just yet. There is always “something” – because at this stage in a person’s life there is Always. Something.

YAY for you that you’ve lived long enough to never question yourself anymore. YAY for you that you know exactly Who You Are and What You Believe. I guaranfuckingtee you weren’t at that point before you hit 30.

This isn’t needy or attention seeking or over dramatic or “supposedly profound”. This is what life fucking looks like when you’re still searching for your bearings in an ever changing landscape.

And another thing.

I am so sick and tired of listening to people opine about what a blogger “should” or “should not” write about. Who the fuck do you people think you are?

There is a woman who takes pictures of her dog every day. And people love it. There is another woman who goes out of her way to ensure that her blog has no teeth – and it is exactly what lots and lots of people look forward to every day. There is yet another woman who posts random thoughts as they occur to her about completely varied and random topics – sometimes blowing up my feed reader 5 times a day – and people love that too.

There are millions and millions of blogs posted every single day and it doesn’t matter one iota of a fuck if you relate to it or not. Because guess what? Someone else does.

Say you’re “not into it” if you absolutely must add your insignificant commentary to the pile – instead of just moving on to something you are “into”. But your condescension and insults and feigned superiority is nothing more than self righteous bullshit. And it’s mean.

And worse, it has the potential to discourage people from enjoying what they should be focusing on – those connections that mean so much to them. The ability to be heard. How fucking dare you insinuate that someone doesn’t have that right? That one person’s voice is any less valid than the ones you choose to listen to?

And make no mistake – I am not talking about me here. I am blessedly past the point of letting one person’s distaste for me and my style drown out the voices of support and encouragement. But there are others with less support, smaller audiences, and less confidence in their right to be themselves – and I watch them cower under your self appointed authority.

I watch them try to pass it off as humor and nonchalance when they say “heh, sorry, I do that. Oh well.” and then vanish from their own sites for days. They scurry back into the darkness and silence like children, convinced that if they can’t do it “right” they shouldn’t even bother.

And for what? Because some self important ass can’t understand why one site is more “popular” than another?

Again I say to you, Fuck. Off.

Is it too late for me to add a disclaimer to this post saying “I’m not specifically directing all of this at YOU. But.. um.. yeah. You’ve hit a nerve.”?

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