Three weeks of no blogging does not a very interesting blog make. Apologies.
I could give you the excuse that I’ve been busy being photographed on horseback up a mountain but you’d never believe me. It’s true though.
And now here I am, ‘showing up at the page’ as that officious writerly mantra goes, except I’ve got nothing much to say.
*Drums fingers on desk and waits for inspiration to strike.*
Nah, I’ve got nothing. This was supposed to be a post about New Year’s resolutions – hence the arty ‘old vs new’ photo – but I’m a little late for that.
Still, I figured if I didn’t break this blogging drought today it would just go on and on until I’d feel too embarrassed and neglectful to return at all, so here I am…
Let’s see. Smalltalk…
Heidi Klum and Seal are getting divorced. Wow, that’s a headline I didn’t see coming. How sad.
Oh gah, that all sounds clumsy. The demise of anyone’s marriage isn’t exactly smalltalk, sorry. (Suddenly I get that show-up-at-the-page thing; it makes sense now, that blogging every day flexes your ‘meaning’ muscles and stops you writing inane drivel like this post. Let me start again.)
This month I’ve been going though this weird experience of watching the lives of people I’ve admired unravel. It’s bizarre to witnesses someone else’s unravelling, even from afar, but it leaves me feeling dizzy. I’ve already written about how a blogger (whose life and writing talent I’ve admired for years) recently wrote an achingly-sad post about separating from her husband, and then Dooce, a prolific American blogger (and practically the mother of the mummy blog) wrote something similarly heart-rending about her husband moving out of their family home.
And then Heidi Klum and Seal, whose epic annual Halloween parties and marriage vow renewals have painted a vivid picture of enviable, vibrant lives, have released a statement saying that they have simply grown apart. It seems unthinkable, although of course the paparazzi pictures of stolen moments of their public lives are no indication of what really goes on behind closed doors.
Still, I can’t help feel sad. Wait, that’s not it.
It’s not sadness, more an unnerving sense that I’ve been envying other people’s lives without seeing all that makes my own life enviable.
And you have to wonder if the smoke-and-mirrors part the media plays in continually shoving shiny lives down our throats (in order to sell papers and increase ad revenue, of course) is having some kind of knock-on effect in the real world, where bloggers whose lives seem unspeakably wonderful can’t seem to grasp hold of the happiness that infuses their pages, and which we presume they know and cherish.
It’s a macabre, marital chicken and egg. Which came first; the showy celebrity marriage collapse or the slow, seeping sadness that leads bloggers to split from their husbands, and leaves their readers reeling, wondering if their envy has been misplaced?
I’m not sure I’m really making any sense but I am learning this: the camera lies. And it doesn’t pay to construct make-believe worlds in which everyone else is happier or more successful than you, no matter how much someone else’s words or pictures might have led you, inadvertently or otherwise, to that conclusion.
My grass is green enough, of that I’m sure.