I’ve heard it’s the best, anyway. For some reason, we give kudos to people who speak the truth from their hearts, even if the truth they speak is kind of icky. This person’s one of us, we say, this person belongs, this person is playing the authentic, humble-little-me role that makes us all feel better about being just as icky inside.
And so I’m going to play the “authentic is best”–just for today, mind you–because it really isn’t authentically me at all. If I were really like that, I’d probably take my talents to Nashville. I’d make a lot more money as a country songwriter than as a house-wifey, home-school mom of four, who makes basically nothing for all the work she does. In fact, I cost the family money because I consume food now and again and do nothing to replace it. I tried the garden thing, but because of the severe drought, the rabbits ate everything, including the tomato plants. Yeah, I know. Those are some desperate rabbits.
So I’m going to admit the truth to you, due to the clearance I’ve given myself to be totally authentic (but not really me) for one blessed day.
I hate blogging and social media. Social media is yet another way to prove to the world how much of a social pariah I am, and how nobody really cares about the lofty subjects I care about, like, What did Samuel Johnson eat for dinner when he threw a party for Charlotte Lennox? And why have we changed the spelling of pye to pie? Why place two vowels side-by-side? Was that really necessary, Mr. Webster? Can you imagine if eye was spelled eie? But, honestly, those are the subjects I want to blog about. Sad, isn’t it?
Mostly, I hate blogging because I hate the pressure of pretending that anybody cares. I’m not good at pretending.
I’m not all that fond of being a housewife. Who is? Yes, I guess that is authentic. Actually, cleaning isn’t bad and laundry’s all right, too. I hate cooking, though, and I’d probably skip eating if I didn’t have to feed my four hungry children. So I just eat with them. Some people ask me why I’m so skinny. There’s the answer. Lose the enjoyment for eating, and you’ll lose the pounds proportionately.
The worst part of being a housewife, however, are those silly crafty things that people expect moms to make with their kids. Will you just shoot me, instead? I hated crafts as a child. Why do I have to perpetuate weird macaroni art as an adult?
It’s raining outside! Seriously raining–drops pounding my windowpane. Oops, it stopped already. So much for the drought being over.
Okay, back to the post about being authentic. Is being authentic always this negative? I hope not. I have one last secret to admit to the world. You know the band They Might Be Giants? You know their song Don’t Start? That song contains some of my favorite rock lines, and I heard the song this evening for the first time in years: “No one in the world ever gets what they want, and that is beautiful. Everybody dies frustrated and sad, and that is beautiful.”
I could explain why these words resonate with me, but that would destroy the irony of the sentiment. Trust me on this. I made the mistake of googling these lyrics, only to discover that many, many others have pondered the deep philosophical meaning of the words, thereby reducing them to idiocy. And, of course, I didn’t feel very unique any longer, at having an affinity for song lyrics that deeply resonate with bloggers everywhere.
There. I’m done with being authentic, of divulging the deep feelings/secrets of my heart. Anybody else want to be authentic? Spill your secrets in the comment section.