I have a privacy issue. Which is to say, I am not at all private.

Here’s how I see it. When I share the good, the bad, and the ugly, whether it’s on this blog, or social media, or in a conversation, I’m being a real person, with cellulite, and bad moods, and a difficult dad, and parenting struggles, and a mouth a sailor would be embarrassed by. In other words, imperfect, but a flesh and blood person.

Some people think they open themselves up on social media by giving a blow-by-blow of their days—“And then I got a parking ticket while I was at the dentist having my lower left molar filled.” But this isn’t sharing, so much as it is a calendar of events.

See, I am interested in real people–in what they do when they fail, in how they get up and at it. I’m interested in hearing about the ugly (but honest) underbelly of a person, in addition to their fabulosity.

Social media is creating a population of one dimensional clones.

I am grateful I’m ok enough to be out there with my imperfections. The real upside is that it allows others to share who they are and what they think. That seems a really good thing to me.