Recently in Lessons Category
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.
My 20 year high school reunion was this past summer but I didn’t go. Aside from the fact that our family doesn’t have 2K to blow on such a trip back to the midwest, I actually already know what most of my old classmates are doing because of my new best friend –Facebook. On one hand, this is an awkward confession regarding what I do with my free time. On the other hand, one could say I’m pretty clever for saving two grand. Regardless, I am really enjoying this convenient form of communication in a cultural anthropology sort of way.
These days I don’t have so many friends that I hang out with. This feels like a sad little confession as I type it. But it’s true. I have a cluster of other local moms that I enjoy being with but rarely get to see due to unrelenting teething and napping schedules. I have family nearby who are obligated to be nice to me. And thankfully, there are a couple of women around here who seem to like me in spite of the fact that I don’t heart NJ and I have the sense of humor that borders complete bitchiness. I cannot help but wonder if it is merely coincidence that both those women are British ex-pats. Anywho, you get the point. It can be lonely in the world of diapers, aging iTunes playlists and 8 PM bedtimes.
But enter Facebook and the world opens up like a popular pub that serves gin and tonics 24/7. I know everyone and I have my own key to the Ladies Room. In Facebook Land I can catch up with old friends across the globe and make new ones all with the click of my hand.
A recent reconnect has been with one of those former classmates, Shelley. We went to high school together for one year, never had a meaningful conversation that I remember, and then she moved back home to Canada. I haven’t spoke to her in ten years. But then I saw her on Facebook and read her comments on other friends’ updates.
Then I remembered she has a great sense of humor…
Then she started stalking me.
Ok, not really. Shelley made her way to my website and started reading. When she was done there, she clicked on over to my old site and read some more. That’s a lot of reading, a lot of history about me; ten years of history, at least. After reading all that crap she wrote me a nice email with compliments and witty remarks, and shit. I mean, how could I NOT like her after that?
So here is this person that I would love to kill some bottles of wine with, yet in high school we were simply not friends. How did that happen? Or not happen, as it were.
There is something about writing a thought down that makes one take notice. Often, what someone would never think to say in person, they will say in a note, a letter, a blog or an “Update”. That is, if you're doing it right.
Frankly, for someone like me who has been at this writing thing for quite a while, the internet is a great gift. It’s as if the entire rest of the world just started speaking my language. A small, albeit snotty, part of me looks at a service like Facebook and says, “Welcome to my world, bitches!”
Aside from being able to express myself much easier in the written word, I completely enjoy conversing with people who swear they can hardly form coherent, readable sentences, yet become honest, witty authors of their little FB updates. Not that long ago, another former classmate wrote, “Divorce sucks” as his daily update. Of course, his friends (and strangers listed as Friends in his profile) commented with encouragement. Some even went so far as to say that he should stop focusing on the negative and cheer up. Me – I clicked the “like this” thumbs up. If there is anything I admire more than a sarcastic sense of humor, it’s honesty. Gut level – I don’t give a shit what you think –honesty.
Of course there are some who use Facebook the same way they used the yearbook staff senior year. You know who I'm talking about. Their updates read like a list of achievements or worse, a motivational speech. You just want to smack, Smack, SMACK them around a little to hear one whimper of evidence that they are human.
Bejesus, it’s just Facebook. You're not Kate Gosslin and this isn't your doctorate thesis. So stop being so damned haughty about it. You know you love looking up the old boyfriends, checking to see who’s fat, who’s divorced, whose kids are cute and assuring yourself that your kids really are better looking. (Not that I don’t think that your kids are cute but clearly, mine are in danger of being kidnapped and cloned.) Did that girl you dated back in '94 ever get her shit together? I dunno, let's look her up! Is Jeremy a Republican? Let's see. Will Zack remember you? Find out! Friend-ize them all!
I’m lovin’ me some Facebook. Some time with my face in this book. I like to use Facebook for what it was intended: A SOCIAL NETWORKING site. It's a party, folks. If you walked up to me at a party and you said, "For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have enclosed me: they pierced my hands and my feet, Psalms 22:16" I'd be a little confused. Are you flirting with me or trying clear the room?
"This quiz says my husband will leave me after 4 years." Well, we haven’t spoke in 22 years, but I believe you.
"I HATE Obama." Thanks for sharing.
Here's a tip: Be honest, but don't be a jackass. Pretend you are at a party. A room full of people. Some of us know you, but some of us are only acquainted with you.
Look who's talking, I know. The chick who lives her life as an open book and publicly posts anything from family photos to random opinions about the war(s). But that's me. It truly is. Believe it or not, I am acutely, painstakingly aware of my "audience". I choose to go public about many things for the conversational factor - the hope that my words will inspire you to talk to each other about what I said. I'm not quite looking for your approval, but I'm not trying to hurt you either. You have to go to my website for the gritty stuff. Ya know, where it would be your choice to read further. Here, it's all just twits and giggles. If Facebook is a party, my personal website is a coffee date where you can decide if I'm actually full of shit or not.
That's what Shelley did. Thank goodness too, because I am not nearly as witty in every single update at this never ending shin-dig. I can't count the number of times I have almost written about my urgency to pee or the effects of a spicy meal. There is a very limited number of you that would be interested in that kind of information, I'm sure.
Then again, the longer I'm here, the more it really does feel like we're all hanging out at a neighborhood pub. I better go easy on the cocktails. Shelley, can you drive us home?
I saw this movie today. Well, the end of a movie, about an artist who had a "bitter rivalry" with Picaso. It was one of those movies that brings up a strange, but familiar sort of panic in me. I am not doing enough. I am unknown. What legacy am I leaving behind? You know how it is with me. I wanted to leave my mark. Used to be very important to me.
My husband complains that his creativity is stifled at his current job as an Art Director. I lay awake at night when I desperately need sleep, thinking of all the art installations I might do, the books I really should write, the films I need to make. And I have yet to finish a scrapbook of my daughter's 1st year of life.
I'm not resentful, so please don't start that "It'll pass" cheer. I am, however, feeling quite reflective. More aware of where I've been. Where I haven't been.
Some people are full of questions. They don't have meaning. They, perhaps, don't believe in God, or know what they are good at doing or wonder where they should live. They don't understand themselves. But, and I say this with all due respect, I am not one of those people. I was. But now, well, a lot of time has passed. A lot of things have happened. I learned. And I have answers now that I did not have before.
For example, I know how I like my eggs. This may not seem important, but it is. I once wrote:
"I never even knew myself
How did I like my eggs
I just danced around in pretty dresses
and let you fill my plate"
It was about my dating life, my married life at one point. I just sort of faded into these men I loved. Lost track of me. I no longer do that. I'm comfortable in my own skin even if I'm not often comfortable in other places.
Yes, I have answers. I know where I want to live, how I want to live and who I want in my life. I know when to say No. No to many Facebook Applications! No to council meetings! No to expensive restaurants! No to credit card offers and a third appointment on the weekend! No to difficult friends. No to the 4th drink.
I'm good at that.
What I lack is time. Which some might say goes back to knowing when to say No. Time. I am 37 years old and there s not enough time left. That is the one thing I know that I am not content knowing.
I have books to write, several countries to experience and more than a few scrapbooks to finish. I have every reason to panic.
Things You Don’t Know About Women:
We wish all of you were required to take a class on how to bring us to orgasm. Because 90% of you have no clue.
Hiding your "package" behind sheets, a pillow or your fumbling hands after sex is not good. Letting it all hang out, like the man we know you are reeks of confidence and may get you a second round.
We want to love you. We really do.
We don't want to think about car maintenance, how to make the stereo sound better or what brand of tools are in the garage.
We think that if you want us to buy bigger breasts, it's only fair that you buy a bigger dick.
Your mother doesn't like us and we know it.
The amount we trust you and the more communication you give is directly linked to how much and what quality nooky you'll be getting.
We are counting your drinks at dinner even if you aren't.
If we feed you, clean your apartment or buy you an item of clothing, we are probably falling in love with you.
Watching you play on a sports team or in a band makes us want to rip your clothes off right then and there. So don't ignore us after the big game; we're just getting started.
People like it when you tell them things, in suitable portions, in a modest, intimate tone, and they think they know you, but they do not, they know about you, for what they are let in on are facts, not feelings, not what your opinion is about anything at all, not how what has happened to you and how all the decisions you have made have turned you into who you are. What they do is they fill in with their own feelings and opinion sand assumptions, and they compose a new life which has precious little to do with yours and that lets you off the hook. ... You only have to be polite and smile and keep paranoid thoughts at bay, because they will talk about you no matter how much you squirm, it is inevitable, and you would do the same thing yourself.