It’s not as if this blog wasn’t already on life support, but I found a much friendlier medium (or at least much easier, in that not requiring flow, context or narrative structure way) to string words together about myself for public consumption (and by public: I mean my mom and you). After years of resisting Facebook because I assumed it was the online version of my h.s. locker and freshman dorm memo board, I remembered that I liked both of those, at least for a while. Plus, other people could leave notes on or in them. So I set up my account and started ignoring my two blogs with renewed disinterest.
But I was justified in my fear that it’s stoked those embers of juvenile-desperation. I want you to pay attention to the version of me I’m concocting for show. As soon as I post any status update – which really should be “Amanda is seeking approval and connection without responsibility”– I log back in furiously to see if anyone’s commented on it. And it reminds me of opening my locker after lunch to see if any notes had been slipped into it.
But I’m not going to jump on the crowded anti-Facebook bandwagon, because it does keep me connected, especially now that I no longer work with 10 to 13 of my closest friends whose dirty thoughts, inappropriate comments, hugs and smart, smart commentary always kept me in their orbit. Now that my giggle-snark-embarrasing story circle is down to three, I need Facebook to throw me back into the middle of the newsroom. Of course, newsrooms are pretty empty these days, so maybe I need a new metaphor.
I have seen some people take their 25 random things and post them on their blogs, which I feel is a bit too copy-and-paste parasitic. So, instead I’m going to copy and paste Exhibit A in the case for how online reveals are replacing real-life meet and greets. ( A dynamic I can’t help but like ==or at least be used to. As a writer who often meets people after they’ve read her stuff, I’m used to the “you’re not as funny in person” reaction, so I’d rather entertain you in copy and slip out early in person.)
Anyhoo, I’m about to attend a very fun little get-together, with a friend whom I met when I became a fan of her column. When that column was killed, I whined and moaned in the comments field, which turns out to be a great way to start a friendship. Turns out, the next job I got after that was where she used to work and that’s where the overlapping REAL LIFE became increasingly evident. We’ve share friends, bosses, mastheads, maybe even a Zip code (or at least a Faixfax Co. commissioner), but we continue to connect mostly online. She’s a brilliant Facebook updater, so I’m a bit nervous about coming face to face with her. I digress.
Knowing that she was pulling together disparate strings of her life for this party, this FB friend asked that we all send 1o random things about ourselves to the group. After reading mine, she wrote back the word I crave like oxygen: HILARIOUS. And she challenged me to use one sentence as the start of an essay. So I’m posting them all here as pressure to write that dang essay and to see if you know which sentence is the essay kindling.
1. Growing up, instead of playing ‘house,” my friends and I played “Truckdriver Wife.” I blame B.J. McKay and his best friend, Bear.
2. The thing I remember most about my dad’s funeral is that someone gave me Princess Leia braids during the service.
3. I’ve been chased by a goat and a goose, bribed by a kitten, bucked off by a pony, but only bitten by a dog.
4. Delivering pizza in high school was super easy, lucrative and liberating, until that old guy came to the door without pants. It was a glass door.
5. Six coworkers had a crush on my husband, including me, before he was my husband. Two of them are dudes.
6. I really love my dog but you don’t have to. But I’ll tell you, sometimes he knows exactly what I need before I do.
7. At age 10 or 11, I went to two Rick Springfield concerts and sent him a letter, asking him to marry my mom.
8. What I miss most about Chicago: improv class.
9. The act I’m most proud of doing is the one I wish I’d never had to do.
10. I interviewed the White House director of communications before she was the director of communications. I asked about bridesmaid dresses and mascara. I interviewed the mayor of D.C. before he became mayor. I asked him what he wanted for Christmas.
March 4, 2009 at 8:42 am |
Oh come on. . .it has to be the pantsless pizza customer.
That sort of comedy seems to write itself.
March 6, 2009 at 12:03 pm |
Nope — that’s likely a better photo essay.