the tindog coffeehouse

Yes, I know I’m a week late in saying it, but Happy New Year. Now can I start out the year with a little honesty? I mean, we’re friends, right?  Here goes…

I’m a failure.

At least according to the world. I’m not rich, I’m not famous. Heck, I’m not even “Internet famous”. And I probably won’t ever be. I don’t have thousands of Twitter followers or Facebook friends, and chances are, no one is even reading this blog post. I have a steady but mostly unfulfilling job that consumes the best hours, days, and years of my life but nothing that even closely resembles a social life outside of that.

Donald Miller talks in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years about viewing life in terms of telling a story, with a narrative arc that includes overcoming obstacles in order to get what you (the protagonist) want. He writes on his blog:

A story involves a person that wants something and is willing to overcome conflict to get it. If you plan a story this year, instead of just simple goals, your life will be more exciting, more meaningful and more memorable. And you are much more likely to stick to your goals. For instance, rather than saying I want to finish getting into shape this year, I’ve written down that I want to climb Mt. Hood with a couple friends. I have a vision of standing on top of the mountain in May, taking pictures and all that. Now my goal has a narrative context. That’s just a simple story, and I’ve planned some stories that are far more difficult but I only use that as an example. If my goal were to lose twenty pounds, I doubt I’d stick with it. But when you have friends flying up from Texas to summit the mountain with you, you’d better believe you are going to be hitting the stairs. I have to, because it I don’t, my story will be a tragedy. Again, stories give goals context.

That’s great advice. But it depresses the hell out of me.

(We’re still being honest, right?)

Why is it depressing? Because it’s a lot harder to say than to do. Because I feel helpless and worthless and trapped and alone. And that sucks.

I know I’m not supposed to admit that. I’m supposed to “engage my audience”, “cultivate my online community”, “build my personal brand”. I’m supposed to read more and blog more and network more and do all the stuff that will drive traffic and generate bigger numbers. Because I’m told by the people on the Internet that that will make me a better person.

Instead, after taking a 3-month break from Facebook, I quietly reactivated my profile and promptly unfriended half my friends. And I actually made a conscious decision to blog less, not more.

It’s not that I don’t want friends; I do, absolutely. Everyone wants to be liked and appreciated and respected and lauded for their achievements. But as much as I like love it when people take the time to read my posts and even take the time to leave a comment, this blog was never meant to attract an audience; it was meant for me, as an outlet. If others stumble on it or want to follow along, that’s great.

So by any quantifiable measuring stick, I’m a failure. I’d like to say I have all these grand goals ahead of me for the year, but I’m not making any promises. I will, however, continue to try to be the best husband, father, and Christian I can, even if that doesn’t really mean anything to most people in this day and age.

And, well, there you go. If you’re still reading, I’m sorry if I’ve totally bummed you out. But I think it needed to be said.

Previously:
A little social network housecleaning
A different checklist