I don’t google myself anymore. I don’t search for my name on Twitter. Not because I’m not a self-obsessed narcissist (I am) but because if somebody’s saying something nasty about me online, I’d just rather not know.
Then the other day, while checking out comments on my charity fundraiser photo which a dear friend had kindly shared on her wall, I saw a comment from somebody I don’t know, referring to me: “I didn’t think she was funny.”
Cue me trying my best to fulfil my desire to be one of those cool people who just doesn’t give a hoot what anybody thinks, but you know… I’m just not. Indeed, sometimes I think I’m just too damn sensitive for this whole public performing gig. I mean, come on. In terms of things to say about somebody online, that one is pretty damn tame. And nice, actually, when you consider the way this person even worded it: “I didn’t think…” THANK YOU! Actually acknowledging it for what it is: an opinion.
But yes, point is, reading it still felt like a little jab in my well-padded guts.
Then yesterday, on another friend’s wall, one who again shared the fundraising photo, another comment, again from a stranger, saying: “I love that girl!”
Again, written as an opinion.
So who is right?
Am I funny? Am I not?
They’re both right.
I’m funny to some. Not to others.
And while I’d like to say I’m okay with that – not desperately hoping that I can be THE ONE PERSON IN THE HISTORY OF THE PLANET WHO HAS APPEALED TO EVERYBODY ALIVE – I’m… working on it.
Insert your own punchline-that-appeals-to-your-comic-sensibility here.
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