Desert Diaries, Volume 3

Sooooo, I don't have a smartphone.

This means, among other things: I get to go on vacation and not post pictures every 5 minutes to Facebook (Instagram? don't have one).  I don't feel badly about not "sharing" everything I'm doing every second of the day, but sometimes, I do feel left out.

That makes me mad, though.  I'm like---why should I feel left out just because I don't always tell people what I'm doing? Does that make me antisocial?  When and why did socializing become posting pictures online all the time?  It makes me sad and infuriated at the same time.

I wish, though, that I didn't have to have any feelings on it at all.  But technology has just become this ever-present THING that covers every aspect of our lives.

I've always hated having to keep up with the cool kids.

I've always kind of liked to "boycott" things that others were doing or saying, or buying, or wearing. 

I've also always kind of felt left out and insecure.

It's so interesting what we find interesting.

Or what we find uninteresting.

We've become this extremely visual people, and if someone doesn't instantly gratify our craving for "connection" by posting a picture, and we actually have to READ WORDS to see what someone is up to, it's suddenly become too much work.  The person who doesn't post a picture to accompany their status update is not as interesting as the person who does post a picture.  I think that's awful!

I realize that I am one of those "not so interesting people" on Facebook.  That stinks!
(I'm almost giggling to myself as I write this.)

But I also value my in-person interactions, and my in-the-moment appreciation of the beauty around me more than what people think of me on Facebook. On my most confident days, that is.  :)

I'm not saying that everyone who posts pictures on Facebook with their smartphone, does not value those interactions in their own life, of course.  That would be a hugely unfair generalization.

I'm just thinkin' thoughts over here.
I so admire the individuals who can deactivate their accounts and not care one way or the other about Facebook.  I wish, like I said, that I had no opinion on it, but I do.  I'm human and I'm insecure.
Here's to seeking out ways to combat the insecurity, and striving for fulfillment in the choices I make and relationships I have!
<3

Blame and Forgiveness

Some self-disclosure here...  what do you blame yourself for in your life?

 

 

"In my life...I’ve found it way too easy to blame myself for a lot.  I blame myself probably more than is fair for “messing it up” ... but the common thread is my being too eager to find something wrong with myself to blame ...  I don’t think I like to blame myself, but it just always seems like the easier thing to do.  I have always been my harshest critic; teachers, coaches, and counselors have told me this throughout the years.  They always pointed that out as my greatest weakness, my most debilitating quality.  I have been struggling for years to work with this quality and turn it into a positive, but it always seems to get the best of me and make me feel like the world is crashing down on me. 

I don’t know where the insatiable desire to achieve came from for me.  Lee says that I grew up feeling inadequate, like my mother didn’t love me (since she was never around, and I probably tried to decipher why that was).  I always tried to fill that hole and that need to be loved and appreciated by overachieving in school.  I was taught that perfection was the best way; we must strive to be the best we can.  I do remember Dad being upset once when I got a B instead of an A, but this was never a chronic, abusive environment, just high expectations.  I always knew that I represented my family and my race and that if I messed anything up, it made a lot of people look bad.  I always grew up being told that I had to help Mexicans look good, to change the way Americans thought of Mexicans.  I guess that was a lot of pressure.  And then growing up being the main responsible one in the home was a lot of pressure too.  I even blamed myself when Dad died.  I felt like there was more I could have done, more I should have known, more questions I should have asked, I should have been more involved with the hospital stay.  I’ve just always put so much pressure on myself for everything, like having too high expectations of myself and then letting everything disappoint me when it all went wrong.  "