Opinions on the Internet are dangerous. It’s like a ticking time bomb a train, that you know will be disarmed at the very last second when the hero sweeps in.
I don’t post my opinion on the Internet, ever. Daniel and I have lofty goals – both career and personal – and I’m not messing that up in any way, shape, or form. I’ve held back, on many occasions – on Facebook political posts, on forum rants, and even on my personal blog. It’s just not worth it.
Two-thousand and thirteen was an amazing year for me – I’d even say it was one of the best years of my life. I turned 30, celebrated with awesome friends, could have died, went to Bonnaroo, became a weightlifter, took on city hall, ran my first 5k, and traveled the world.
Recently, while thinking back on 2013, I came to a realization: people think I’m snobby.
Snobby, conceited, puffed-up, highfalutin – the most appeasing term hovers over me daily. Naturally, these terms have made way through small town gossip, both in person and online.
I was born in a small, rural community. When I was a young child, we lived in a single-wide trailer and my parents were most definitely blue collar workers. From a young age, college was
instilled beat into my brain. I remember sitting in the bathtub – my mom washing my hair – when she said, “You can do anything in this world. It doesn’t matter if you want to cut down trees for a living or be president. Never let anyone tell you that you can’t do something.”
So I didn’t. I went to college, graduated, and starting working for the state immediately after. I moved a couple of hours away from home and married the love of my life.
I certainly wouldn’t say that I’m living my dream life – I have an endless supply of goals I’m working on every single day. I want to go to Thailand, become an actress, graduate law school, buy land in Texas, start my own business, build my dream house, travel the country, write a novel, tour Easter Island; so forth and so on.
The life I am living is a full and satisfied one. I absolutely can not imagine a life that isn’t full of purpose, goals and desire. I’m always striving for the next mission, the next adventure, the next big wonderful experience that makes up my life.
Yet, leading this life has led to a label I’m fearful of, that I’ve dreaded for years, and that I’m ashamed of: I’ve been labeled a snob.
It’s simple: leading a full life doesn’t make one a snob, period. Posting vacation photos on Facebook doesn’t make one a snob. Instagramming a restaurant meal doesn’t make one a snob, either. So what does?
I’m not sure I have an answer. I’d like to think that snobbery is derived from looking down on others while having a supreme view of one’s self. “Here’s us at Stonehenge,” doesn’t equal, “I think you’re low class.” It does, however, equal sharing photos and memories with family and friends not seen often.
Are you reserved when sharing online for fears of being labeled as a snob? Do you share without regards? I’d love to hear your thoughts below.