I don't know Emily Gould from Elliot Gould, but I was totally blown away by her article in this week's NYT magazine. She speaks about her history with Gawker Media, the purveyor of snark, and reveals her struggles -- both public and private -- with her professional decisions and personal relationships. Now I couldn't care less about the insipid Gawker and its preoccupation with non-news and cewebrity (even though I read the growing-ever-more-snarky Gawker-sibling Kotaku). But I am fascinated by blogger culture, the obvious need for some people to share (and some to overshare) incredibly intimate details of their lives, online, for strangers to idolize or vilify. Sure, I'm writing this blog post. But no one is reading it, probably. And if they are, fine. I'm not talking about my genital warts or whatever.
Anyway, kudos to Emily Gould for a very entertaining piece, even though she still suffers from that myopic twentysomething point of view that we all once had. The events she describes in the article occurred way, waaay back in 2006, after all. Reading the article, you'd think she was talking about her misbegotten days of youth, not the summer before last. This too shall pass, Emily. And ultimately, no one really cares what you're doing every blogtastic minute except you and the person or people you're doing it with. The sooner you realize that no one is thinking about you as much as you think they are thinking about you, the better off you are.
I learned that waaay back in 2005, when I was 32.
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