It’s a cliché, but it’s true: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Given my ignorance of country music, I had to Google which singer I needed to credit here (Kelly Clarkson), but the words have been dancing in my head since yesterday, when I spent more than an hour on the internet reading other people’s posts. I wasn’t on Facebook, scrolling through photos and–against my better instincts–envying the Lifestyles of the Organized and Disciplined. Thanks to Blogging 101’s Assignment #3, I was reading about the use of laptops in classrooms, the overuse of words in conversation, the heartbreaking poverty within urban India, and a sweet afternoon spent in a hammock. And I wasn’t just reading: I was–gulp–interacting with other bloggers.
For those not enrolled in Blogging 101, the assignment–“Say ‘Hi!’ to the Neighbors”–was to find five new blogs and five new topics to follow. While it took me a while to get started, I am slowly finding my way about the Blogging 101 Commons and warming up to the Reader. In fact, I’ve found so many interesting blogs to read that I’ve had to force myself to stop reading. I’ve managed to leave a comment or two on a couple of blogs, after steering clear of comments for the past three months. I might even be in danger of becoming a sharer of links. Maybe I’m coming out of my shell?
Leaving the safety of the sidelines has a bright side and a dark side. On the positive side, it is good for me to quit being what my kids call a “creeper.” Although the term “creeper” as applied to social media is fairly new, I have been a silent watcher for decades. In elementary school, I pored over the mimeographed school directory, checking out whose mother was in charge of the Valentine’s Day party or who had a sibling in my little brother’s class; I devoured old dance recital programs, which featured large ads with photographs: “To Darling Susie from Mamaw and Papaw.” Who were these smiling, costumed children with indulgent grandparents, I wondered, as I imagined myself in their shoes.
Currently, my youngest son and I are listening to Harriet the Spy, a children’s book chronicling the adventures of an eleven-year-old who fills a notebook with intimate facts about her schoolmates and neighbors. I am the grown-up version of Harriet, with the caveat that I don’t keep notes of my observations about people because, in Chaucer’s words, “Murder will out”: unkind words written about others inevitably come to light, sooner or later. (Spoiler alert: in the book, Harriet’s private composition book has just become public property!)
Unlike the fictional Harriet, who is unafraid to speak her mind, I carried my tendency to observe without comment into the classroom. My inability to speak up in class, particularly in seminars, sabotaged my doctoral degree almost as much as my failure to start a dissertation. The only classes I remember talking in had about three students–and I was the one who had done the reading. My silence was rooted in self-censorship: as I saw it, my thoughts or reactions weren’t worthy of being spoken out loud. Not everything that my fellow students were saying was brilliant, of course, but they didn’t hit the “pause” button before opening their mouths. When another student did say something foollish, the professor, rather than castigating the student, often welcomed the remark, which gave the professor an opportunity to make his point. The rest of the class soon lost respect for the blundering student, yet the dedicated, articulate student was perceived as a threat. No wonder I censored my thoughts before raising my hand. In the classroom, I became–to use another cliché–my own worst enemy.
It has been many years since I sat in a classroom, trying to work up the courage to contribute something. Although the written word has the potential to damage reputation just as much as the spoken word, I feel safer in the blogging world than I ever did in a classroom. Now we come to the dark side of finding a public voice (if, indeed, I have): what if I become that babbling student in the classroom, indiscreet or ignorant? As a newbie blogger, I fear over-sharing (even as I ponder the extent to which this post has gone too far in that direction). Within the safe confines of my home, I am guilty of not censoring myself enough: ask my children or my husband. Here, in my blog, I will inevitably expose my weaknesses.
Silence is not golden in the blogging world. No, I shouldn’t pay forced compliments or click “like” on a post that fails to stir me. But blogging isn’t merely about self-revelation or self-promotion: it is about the exchange of ideas and experiences. Assignment #3 has taught me that a blogger is part of a community–a community in which, ideally, the participants will not mock or betray one another but will share and advise and support.
Susan said:
I really enjoyed your post and look forward to reading more. Fear of rejection is a strong deterrent to expression. We all feel it at one time or the another.
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sappyasatree said:
Thank you, Susan: you summed up most of my 1,000 words in a sentence! Yes, and that fear of rejection definitely carries over into many other areas of life.
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Susan said:
But you said it nicer 🙂
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mary kathryn said:
That’s a fascinating subject, and one that makes most of us uncomfortable. I’m uncomfortable with my tendency to open-mouth-change-feet. But keeping silent (with the greatest difficulty) is also dissatisfying. In blogland, you learn as you go. You’re articulate, and I think will find it enjoyable to share your thoughts like this.
After blogging for about 5 years, somehow a small group of us lady Christian bloggers decided to form a small group of six, and set up a private site elsewhere so we could freely interact, encourage, share joys and sorrows, and support each other. I consider them all dear friends, and I’m thankful for the blogging world that brought us together. We know each other’s lives, and sometimes we are able to share more openly with each other b/c of this unique setting, than we can share in our “real” lives at home. I never expected such a gift from blogging 🙂
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sappyasatree said:
Somehow, I was not expecting the community aspect of blogging, and it is a welcome surprise. MK, I don’t see you as a foot-in-the-mouth person at all–honestly, that can be any of us, on any day. (I asked my college son a stupid question a few days ago–aarggh!)
My brother has set up a family blog, mostly for the kids, and some have enjoyed that. I like our private family group on Facebook. It’s interesting, though: I’m more worried about what my family would think of something serious I wrote than what a stranger would think. Old habits die hard.
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sappyasatree said:
A disclaimer for other Blogging 101ers: I was on the verge of publishing this post, which evolved as a response to “Say ‘Hi!’ to the Neighbors,” when today’s assignment https://href.li/?http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/101-commenting/ popped up. I felt like someone had stolen my thunder. . . On the positive side, I’m already halfway done with today’s homework. Now, to go back and do the assignments I’ve skipped.
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Beth said:
This is great! I feel ashamed that my contributions to the Blogging 101 class have been so shallow. I fulfilled the assignment, but nothing more. Please do keep on keeping on.
There is a proverb that seems to apply here and you were governed by it even if you did not realize you were.
Proverbs 18:13–He that answereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto him.
KJV
Talking for the sake of talking is a vanity.
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Sandi said:
What a kind response, Beth: that makes me feel better.
I will tell you, though, that I considered using the phrase “sit in the seat of the scoffers” (Psalm 1:1) when I was writing this post. I hinted at this in the post, but a fair amount of “scoffing” went on when I was in grad school. I decided not to dwell on that in my post.
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Beth said:
If you were in school today, you would see more than a “fair amount” of scoffing. The new elite seems to thrive on mocking others’ mistakes. I am an educated woman too, but with a spelling disability. Believe me I struggle with that one. My husband has a great comeback when he thinks of these things. He says his friends will never notice and his enemies need something to talk about.
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Aileen Hunt said:
Hi Sandi, I didn’t realise you had a second blog! Really enjoyed this piece. I think almost all of us have moments (years?) of self-doubt. If we’re lucky, we eventually realise the cost of holding ourselves back is greater than the cost of doing what we long to do, even if it means tripping up every now and then. Onwards and upwards!
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Sandi said:
Somehow, I missed this comment that you made more than three years ago, Aileen. Oops! I’ve been in and out of blogging since then; I currently have one foot in, but I’ll probably take it back out as the holiday season gets closer.
Anyway, thanks for checking out my other blog: this blog is supposed to have more abstract writing and fewer pictures. You make a great point: holding ourselves back means nothing gets accomplished. I need to remember that when I’m tempted to censor myself.
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