The Social Media Sweep

A few months back I received one of my favorite compliments ever when a friend asked, “I don’t want to be too forward, but I’m so curious. I love your blog. How much do you make writing for it?” Compliment taken! Also, the answer is negative $180.87 per year. No one’s getting paid over here except my domain host. I’m pulling a bright red financial contribution to the family in all possible ways. 

Nick’s totally on board because this is definitively the cheapest and least disruptive hobby I could have settled on in my 30’s. I don’t need a babysitter, there’s no equipment involved, and I do it all when he’s already asleep. And we’re optimistic that the mental exercise of writing will help stave off the genetic memory loss coming my way, at least for a decade.  

I absolutely love hearing that someone has read or shared my blog. I have no background in writing, but it’s a fun creative outlet and I love getting constructive feedback on what I post. It’s been a means to document my favorite stories with the kids, and an opportunity to work on a skill set I otherwise wouldn’t explore. But I would never convert Raise the Ruof into an income stream, even if it was good enough (and I know it’s not so why are we even having this conversation?)

Pulling an income from anything personal on the internet conflicts with my values in two huge ways:

1.      Monetizing my experiences with the kids

2.      Growing my audience

First one’s a no brainer. People on the internet are weird. Second one wouldn’t work because at my core, I’m a hermit. 

Grow an audience? Yeesh. I actually purge my audience on the reg. 

Each year on the first week in January, I take part in my annual social media cleanse. Oh no, I don’t actually take any time off the screen. You all know I love a good late night story dump. No, I just delete “friends,” en masse. There is simply no reason anyone should have well over 1000 connections on social media. And I say this as someone who has had at least seven different social circles in the last decade. Nick and I move a lot. And we meet a lot of people. And then we move again. And I forget who those people from my old town were. And then I meet new people. But then I don’t really like leaving the house to be social. So, I forget how I knew those people because I don’t see them. And then we move again. And the cycle perpetuates. 

Criteria is simple. If I wouldn’t go out of my way to say hi to you in a crowd, you’re cut. 

At a Packers tailgate and I wouldn’t approach your grill to share a frozen beer? You’re out. Vandy homecoming game and I wouldn’t get excited to catch up with you over a dirty frat house beer pong table? Goner. If I wouldn’t remember your name without looking it up on Facebook? Easy elimination. 

So, if in the next few weeks, you suddenly stop seeing me post pictures with my [really fricking adorable] kids all over Facebook… I’m sorry, but you didn’t survive the January purge. It’s nothing personal. It’s that at one time you met a total loner who was pretending to be an extrovert and then I got cold feet and I forgot your name. I promise, it’s not you. It’s me. 

I’m also keeping my fingers crossed that I don’t accidentally delete someone I’m not super close to but I forget that I actually see them almost daily and then I have to send a follow up friend request to repair the mistake because yes that has definitely happened before and it is very humbling. Yikes.