Don't Believe Your Own Press

Sometimes I really wonder about my fellow bloggers. (Don't worry, the irony is not lost on me.) Minute-to-minute updates on their lives, strewn about the "internets" far and wide, for all to see.

I carefully calculate what I personally reveal, both on my blog and in real life. I am private (again, the irony) and choose to keep it that way, to divulge the deepest corners to my closest peeps. Some read this blog for sure. Besides them, who knows - maybe no one else reads it. However, paranoia is one of my most consistent character traits and I'll keep it that way.

Lately, I have found some very interesting "bloggas." Topics, though varied, were highly personal, complete with family photos and semi-gory descriptions of kids' births and lots of "tooting one's own horn." I felt strange peeking in - after, of course, I read any available posts and inspected all pictures.

I can understand sharing such info with your family and friends via e-mail or the like. But to splash it all upon a blog? Something is funny to me. I learned more about these people than I know about actual friends and family!

Then, it hit me. I also know more about Brangelina's twins than I do about real people around me, and I can name all their siblings. I shake my head at Suri Cruise's Burberry coats and couture, waiting for Katie to stop drinking the Kool-Aid. I kept tally of Britney's custody battle and her psychiatric admissions. This over-saturation in regards to superstars has become normal, a way of life. It is not unusual to be more highly-informed about celebrities than to know what your spouse did at work today.

So, in light of this, what if strangers stare in on your family photos and revel in (or mock) the minutia of your life? If it's good enough for the Lohans, it's good enough for us, right? It's like a self-created TMZ.com where you post your own press - this idea could be pure genius after all! Everyone wants the attention of the masses nowadays - blogs just give us all our own little spotlight.

Hats off to the fancy pants who can do this, I say! Good for you! Just don't expect me to follow. I don't want to pretend the paps are following me to the grocery store, to catch me without makeup or in an unflattering shot to "red-pen" my cellulite. I don't want to play that game, or pretend on my blog that people actually care.

But, in the privacy of my own home, I'll continue to rehearse that Oscar acceptance speech in front of the mirror. Because that's not the same thing, you know. That's just being prepared!