The Mover

I am growing up. It is official. I wash my own dishes and clothes. I go shopping by myself and check the coupons. I am thinking about having kids one day and what sort of career I want (astronaut or supermodel). To be honest I feel like this blog and a couple other virtual profiles of me are the only things tying me to my adolescent life. I have two jobs in the public eye. And more and more often I can’t help but wonder what the public would think if they got a load of me on my bike after a Thursday night or sneaking beer out of paper bags at LA beach. What if the families I love seeing at work were getting lunch on water street one day when I was out drinking at 3pm. What kind for role model do I become? What if my boss reads this and looks at the pictures and decides that is not even a face for radio?

This has haunted me a lot lately. It kind of bugs me how much more my personal life is going to be scrutinized as time goes on. Yes, I like to drink and stay up late and dance and have fun. But I also love to work hard. Which is more important? A couple of months ago my dad asked me for this URL again (HI DAD!) and it kind of hit me that my family was seeing these details of my life. Apparently my sister (HEY BAILEY!) reads this blog on occasion and a while ago my other sister Syd said she thought it was weird I had a blog. Me to.

And all of that makes me want to start being more selective about the impression I put forth to the all seeing eye of the internet. But at the same time it makes me happy that I do have this way to communicate who I am and what I’m up to with other people. It is nice to feel like I have no shackles binding me to people’s false pretenses. I am not working hard to make it seem as though I am a squeaky clean upright samaratan, however I am trusting peoples judgment calls to look through the antics and pull out a genuine perception of who I (and anyone else ever pictured or mentioned here) is.

And don’t get me wrong. I realize how narcissistic this sounds. And I know it is far from the first time I’ve blogged about blogging(which even I have to admit is so incredibly contrived it kind of gives me a headache).But I am willing to deal with hypocrisy on my part. And this is the first time I’ve called out my audience on their interest in the shitty things I write and do. No, I don’t think that peoples worlds would fall apart if this site was yanked from the internet not even leaving a blip of missing 0’s and 1’s. But as nervous as I get when someone tells me that they read something on my blog, I can’t help but think about the fact they were just outed as someone who would be inclined to read this hooey.

So my point is this. If growing up means I give up things like posting pictures of people drinking beer out of handlebars and getting giddy over kiddie pools and campfires then I guess this is all the more grown up I get. Because at the end of the day the things we do every day are far more important to me than the bad perceptions people may take from them. In the words of 7 seconds. I’m going to stay young until I die. Astronaut career be damned.