Curating your own life

“It’s that “compare and despair” attitude, as Fearne Cotton has phrased it. I think people have always done this, even before social media.

Before digital cameras you would invite your neighbours round and show them your photo album from your holiday, or you’d perfect your front garden to have the best roses in the neighbourhood.

Now you just post another picture to Facebook.”

This was from an article on the BBC News (Magazine category) website:

“International Women’s Day: Roxie Nafousi tries posting ‘less-than-perfect’ images”

I am not familiar with Roxie Nafousi, but she has 46,000 followers who are. I guess that makes her a Mega-Blogger.  Because I found it interesting that, in the brief introduction as to why this interview, it was felt unnecessary to say why she has that number of followers. It seems she is an “aspirational” blogger.  Which seems to be all the explanation we need.

The full article is here, and – if you are ex-UK – I hope the BBC allows you to view it.

But it was this insight that really caught my eye: “I think people have always done this, even before social media.“  With reference to “curating our lives” – presenting positive images of my life – putting together my edited “me album” for others to view – the self-imagery I have of “the me I think I should be” – or that I think I am (or that I know I am not).

People have always done this – curate their lives.

I think she is mostly correct.

And I wonder why.  Why is pretending about who we are so deeply ingrained in how we live?  Where does “curating” start and stop?  Why do we find good reason to not present the real me?  Who are we trying to kid?

And does that ”kidding” continue after we are saved and become not of this world? Does this curating cease after we give our lives to God?  Because, are we not more aspirational after being saved than before?  And are we not “aspirationaly charged” with bringing others to the very same Christ who saved us?

And do we ever lose the need to present an image of something to somebody?

And does God?

I check myself in the mirror each morning. It takes a second. Accompanied by “Looking good this morning.” Apparently I shouldn’t. Apparently I don’t. Apparently it takes work to look good. And – apparently – one never looks good enough. Not for the world nor for one’s own self-image.

(now for the TIC, “tongue in cheek”, bit)

I wish I knew how to do things right.

It’s a bummer being not of this world.