Facebook Drama - It's An Epidemic

It amazes me, the stupidity in this country overcoming common sense and the thirst for knowledge.  The resources we have to search out answers is amazing – not only do we have libraries, but we have the internet that gives us a choice to believe or search and there are a lot of us who would rather not search, even if we don’t believe.  We would rather sit complacently by and share a story rather than find out if it’s true.

What’s my problem today?  Facebook, again.  I wish I could quit it, I really do, but I like the fact that it has kept me in touch with family members that I normally wouldn’t hear from on a day to day basis, and it has reconnected me with friends from long ago.  That said, it makes me realize that some of my friends are more toward the bottom of the food chain.

Recently, an old acquaintance posted about toothpaste and chemicals and color bars.  When I saw it I thought to myself is this true?  And I immediately went in search of an answer.  It wasn’t true and I posted the link in his comments section, hoping that it wouldn’t go further.  Under my post someone swore that they were switching toothpastes.  They couldn’t believe it.  I wanted to comment for them to read the link above them, but I wanted to see how far it would go.  My friend didn’t acknowledge my contribution.  Several people ignored it and then the last person to post said it was a hoax and he liked their comment.  Now I know what I’m dealing with here – he’s a total drama queen that wants to get everyone worked up and then let them know there’s nothing to worry about.  He lives for dramatic comments and fights among his friends that he can monitor, and even though I loved working with him years ago, I’m going to un-friend him.  In fact, I’m going to go through my list and dismiss others as well.  The ones I just don’t talk to, the ones that have “collected” me, I will leave in my internet dust. 

I do have friends who post old Amber Alerts or news stories who don’t check on them before they re-post them.  The most common post is of the two little boys who were abducted somewhere in the middle of the country by their parents.  The headline doesn’t say that though, it just says they were taken.  Every time I click on that story so I can find the link that says they’ve been found.  I then post it to her page and every time I get a Thank God! response from her.  I don’t mind this so much as she’s actually reading what I posted.  Kind of makes me happy that she is considering what I said.

I don’t usually go all ape-shit about expired amber alerts because it puts the fear of God into people and might make them a little more wary for themselves and their children, maybe even their dogs and cats. Who knows?  I like to let them know, though, if they’ve been found, especially if it’s a good ending.

I guess as I get older I don’t worry so much of offending someone with the truth.  I’m guessing some people don’t like it, and I’m realizing that sometimes I just don’t care.  I’m tired of lies, smokescreens, and un-thought-thru “shares”.  And I’m tired of people saying they are my friend when they are not, and me wasting my time on them.

 

By the way, I know I'm not the only one experiencing this - what sets you off???

My Brother

My brother is a writer.  He's really good.  I would like to be a writer, but I'm not so good.  I'm not disciplined enough or eccentric enough (though I try to be).  He's pretty normal and he's working on a novel and he sends it to me in chapters and I want to scream from the rooftops that it's awesome!  I encourage him and wait, and I give him my opinion, and I wait. 
And best of all - and this truly is the best of all - we have communicated more in the last couple of months than we have in years.  I guess it happens to some families that move to different states.  Out of sight, out of earshot.  Never out of mind, always there, but even though we're in an age where we are instantly connected it seems we never do.  Know what I mean? 
He keeps telling me he's going to finish the novel and not send me anything else until he's done, but then I check my Facebook and I see he's messaged me and I know I'm in for some good reading.  So here's to my brother, you little brat!  Keep writing!!!

A Week of Tragedies

            This week has been insane.  Starting last Friday, we learned of a kid in our 4H group that got in a horrible accident and is now in critical condition.  This kid is one of the sweetest little boys one could ever meet, with a natural curiosity about the world in which he lives.  He may never be able to move freely again, we just don’t know. We don’t know if there’s brain damage yet and not being part of the family we just have to wait and see what happens.  All we can do is pray and we definitely do that.  Whether it is to God, Allah or a tree, prayers are always welcome. 

 

            That’s the type of week it was – one of multiple prayers for multiple people.

 

            The next crazy thing that happened was Robin William’s committing suicide.  Why?  Why?  It was all I could hear and see from my friends, family, the internet – why would he do such a thing?  This remarkable man who could make us laugh and cry within the same frame in a movie.  What was so horrible that he couldn’t work through it?  And then the realization that we would never hear any new material from him, never see him act again or be on stage, watch him age and change his craft.  It was all so final.  The photo montages and the blogs offering up heartfelt and very real grief, experiences and remembrances – they were all beautiful. 

 

 

 

 

Then the really crazy thing – his daughter getting harassed on Twitter.  What is up with that?  Why are all the haters so quick to be ignorant when no one can see them?  What do they think they can accomplish?  All I can say is that their words don’t matter, Zelda, and you are way more than they will ever be.  My heart goes out to you and your family.  Losing a dad is one of the worst things you can go through and I still need and miss my dad after 10+ years.  Keep your memories – you don’t have to answer to anyone.  My condolences to you and your family, and the world on the loss of this caring, quixotic man.

 

            The last (I hope) crazy moment of the week would be the abduction of two Amish girls from my neighborhood.  The fear and the anger that someone would pluck two little girls from their farm stand still is unimaginable, even though it happened.  The searches, the helicopters flying overhead, seeing the dive teams heading out to look for a car or bodies, or both in the local swimming and boating areas was surreal.  Not letting a nine year old ride his bike around the block for fear of his disappearing, and having to explain why.  Innocence disappears quickly in the face of tragedy.  Prayers again were offered up for the safe return of these children, for the rescue workers and the police, for the news crews to be kind to the Amish community in their reporting.  When news came over the scanners that the girls were safe Facebook let the locals know before it hit the airwaves.  I was able to go upstairs, wake a little boy, and tell him the girls were ok, they were home with their family, safe and sound.  After a “Thank God” and a big hug both of us were able to finally sleep through the night for the first time in a week.

 

 

          

Pondering Cal

This morning after I was ready for work, I straightened the covers on the bed and looked at the cat.  He was sleeping on my boyfriend’s side of the bed.  Almost a year ago I looked at my girl cat, probably in the same position as he was in at that moment.  I remember this because less than a week later she had died.  That morning I may or may not have walked over and scratched her under her chin, which she loved, and I do not feel guilty if I didn’t.  I loved that cat so well, and she loved me back just as much, so if I left her alone it was because I knew it was ok. 
 

But this morning I went over and scratched his head.  He woke up and did his little “Why are you touching me?” meow, and I scratched a little more.  He’s come a long way in a year, and I’m glad he has, but I still miss her every day and want that closeness back. 
 

Cal has always been weird, for lack of a better word.  My daughter brought him home from somewhere in town.  She said a woman was giving kittens away in the park.  He was too young to leave his mother and we had no one to give him back to, so I ended up feeding him by hand, literally.  He licked formula off my finger because I couldn’t get him to use a bottle, and he wouldn’t use a dish for another week.  I thought that this would be great because it would form a bond between us, but he never warmed up to me.  When my boyfriend moved in with us he would sit with him, never with me.  I was kind of jealous but I also know animals and they have their own people.
 

Cal has always been in pain.  Whether it’s been his back or his skin, we have always had to be careful with him.  Cuddling has never been an option.  However, there were minutes where he let me hold him, not long but usually long enough to get a photo.  Shortly after AJ passed I noticed Cal sleeping on my pillow.  He used to do it sporadically, but now it’s almost an everyday occurrence once I am in the shower.  He’s moving into her territory.  They used to argue.  She only had the upstairs of the house because one of the dogs wanted to eat her.  When Cal entered she would sometimes hiss or yell at him and they would swat each other.  She probably intimidated the hell out of him, all four or five pounds of her to his whopping thirteen.  Now that she’s gone, Cal’s skin has cleared up.  I’m able to hold him for probably four, five minutes tops.  That’s good enough for me.
 

He doesn’t bite as much as he used to.  He talks to us more, like she did.  He comes when he’s called and seems to enjoy our company.  He’s learning to hunt.  He’s coming out of his shell.  Sometimes I think she is guiding him, but most of the time I think he is just learning to love us.
 

Do I miss her?  With all my heart and soul.  Do I wish she were home with me, safe and sound?  Absolutely.  But I am so glad that Cal is still developing and moving forward every day.  He’s ten years old.  He’s got a lifetime ahead of him and as long as he keeps progressing, I’ll keep trying.  Every once in a while I think about getting a new kitten, one that would be like her, but I have a huge fear as to what it would do to him.  We’ve come too far to back track now.  I think we need to be a one cat house for a bit longer. 
 

I know Cal would agree with me on this.




Cal in his younger, thinner days

 

Where Are The Cunninghams?

The good old days.  The days of awesome dresses, cocktails before dinner, matching bedspreads and curtains, everything in order.  I wish I had been an adult in that time.  I caught the very tail of it as a child visiting my aunt.  I remember the gold bedspreads and the gold curtains in the guest room.  I remember never seeing my aunt without her make-up or robe in the morning.  I remember the adult women and men sitting and talking as children found something to occupy themselves.  We were not entertained.  The most interaction we had in that regard was an introduction to a game or book.  Then the adult walked away and we were left to our own devices.

 

 

I wish I had thought of this stuff when I decided to have a child.  I don’t know why I thought I could do it on my own, that it would be fine for my child to grow up with a dad that wasn’t married to me.  Maybe all the crap I read in WE magazine really wasn’t true.  I was very progressive at that age.  I had an aunt who was very pro-women’s rights.  She had chosen not to marry and have children.  She had chosen a career.  She was able to support herself and her aging mother.  She could travel with her sister when she felt like it.  She answered to no one, except maybe her publisher or her boss at the school where she taught English.  I always thought she was having a secret affair with her editor.  Now, as I look back, I realize she was probably a lesbian.  Who knew? 

But I digress.   I wish we could turn back time and live life like it was a Happy Days episode.  When Mrs. Cunningham had dinner on the table and Mr. Cunningham could be counted on to lead his family in the right direction.  Where a heart to heart was taken seriously by Richie and Joanie and the morals of the family, while tested at times, were what kept them all on the straight and narrow.  When time wasn’t disposable.  I wish I had thought to give my child that life.  I wish I hadn’t made the choice to be a “modern” woman with a child.  I should have realized that in order to be that woman I should do it without a child.  Once that child was born I should have given it more – more dad, more lessons, more morals, and less - less material, less freedom, less choice.

 

I thought the more I let her listen to what she wanted to listen to, the more I let her make choices, the more independent and strong she would be.  It didn’t turn out that way.  She turned into a spoiled, potty-mouthed teenager that clung to the wrong guys and married a man almost twice her age.  And now she’s sitting in jail, for a crime I never pictured her committing.

I feel that if America revisits traditional values, the golden rule, common courtesy and the like, that maybe we can start to turn our nation around.  Maybe we wouldn’t be so violent.  Kids would grow up with a male presence in the household.  Moms wouldn’t have to brag that they are both mom and dad (which I can’t stand to hear, although I stated it as well at one point).  Women wouldn’t be looking for help saying “Well I am a single mother!”  I have hated that statement from day one.  I myself never used the phrase and didn’t use it as an excuse either.  I chose to be what I was – I walked away from a relationship that didn’t seem fixable, and since we weren’t married it made it all the easier – on me.  Unless someone is widowed, it should never be used.  So many women walked into my office and said that and I wanted to say that it was their choice, but couldn’t because I would lose my job.  It’s NOT an excuse ladies. 

I wish that we could let women stay home and nurture their children and not make them think that they had to be MORE.  Did yesterday’s women not realize that being with their children, nurturing them, teaching them, was way more important than a career?  Look at our world – how is this better?

Mrs. Cunningham was a respected woman in her home.  She was a loved mother and wife and friend.  Sometimes she had to show Howard what she wanted instead of making him guess and being strong was a character trait of hers.  He also knew the golden rule of “Happy wife, happy life” and he treated her well.  We could all take a lesson. 

 

Women weren't as mean as we are now too.  We didn't have to be.  There was more emphasis on friendships.  We actually leaned on our friends.  We had time to be with them.  We helped them with their children, problems, recipes.  The closeness we used to have has been filled by work relationships and I have found that once you leave that employment, those friendships are not far behind.

I realize the Cunningham’s weren’t real people, only characters in a sitcom, but I feel they were based on real people and a way of life that was ideal, but real nonetheless.  Perhaps we should explore going back to this time when we were a kinder, gentler population.  Go back to the good old days…

 

 

 

Gimpy Goose

On our way to Jack’s Drive-In the other day, we came upon a group of cars stopped for no apparent reason.  As we sat and looked around we noticed a gaggle of Canadian geese were beginning to cross the road.  Where we live this usually isn’t a problem. In the city, it definitely could become one.

 

Geese in the city.

 

We were getting a little upset with the person at the front of the line when a couple geese stopped crossing and they had room and time to go, but I’m so glad they didn’t.  I looked off to the right and there were two geese left, one slightly larger than the other.  The smaller goose was very noticeably limping.  The larger one was waiting for it.  Whether it was mom, dad, or mate it waited for that little injured goose to get across before it followed.  And it was so obvious once the gimpy goose started across what it was doing.  At first it looked like it was just hanging around, picking at the ground with it’s beak, checking out the tall grass around the telephone pole.  Once that goose started crossing it was there, at attention, and following.

This goose was cleaning his wing and waiting for the hurt one.  Just nonchalantly waiting around.

I never knew geese did that.  When I realized what was happening the simple beauty of it struck me and I started crying.  It made me think.  It made me wish that we were all like those geese in that way; watching out for our weak, our hurt, instead of exploiting them and leaving them in our wake.  I know that is not everyone and I still believe most people are good, but we need to be better and the lesson from this goose will stay with me.  We need to put down our phones and tablets, and we need to hold someone’s hand, or listen, or talk to them or whatever – in order to help them to the other side of what is happening to them.

He was so slow, but he made it across to be with his family - I wish I could have gotten the other goose in the shot but that car pulled up and blocked it.

Take a moment and see what you can do to help the gimpy goose in your life.  The results might surprise you, and the surge in your heart will amaze you.

Rambling...

Do you ever look at a white screen and wonder “What relevant words will pour from my fingers today?”?  I am asking myself this at this very moment.  I know I need to write, but what do I want to write about right now?  What do people want to read?  No offense, but I gave up romantic poetry when I was seventeen.  When I realized Romeo and Juliet were right to kill themselves.  Stupidity such as theirs needs to be destroyed.  Star crossed lovers?  More like co-dependent children.  Romance was for fairy tales.   It still is.

I was reading the newspaper earlier and there were stories that made me think that I should write about my opinion but sometimes (meaning most of the time) I wonder if I’m really agreeing or disagreeing with an article or passively aggressively sabotaging myself.  I find myself leaning farther and farther to the right either as I grow older or because I work in a largely republican atmosphere.  I’m not sure which.  Sometimes I hear something pop out of my mouth and I can’t believe I said something that may be construed as racist or non-gay. 

Here was a conversation a couple weeks ago with my boyfriend about facebook and gay marriage.  I’m not even sure how it came about to that but here is the gist:

“I am so tired of hearing about gay marriage!” – me.

“Well, it’s important to them and it’s their right to get married” – him.

“But I have gay friends and it is all I ever see on their facebook posts.  Gay marriage this, gay marriage that.  There’s nothing else” – me.

“Because they should be able to post pictures of their weddings like straight people do.  We post stuff all the time about our life, why is it not ok for them to post theirs?” – him.

“Because that’s all they post!  Not THEIR weddings!  Gay propaganda!  I want to know what my friends are doing on the weekend or what their gardens look like or what crazy thing their pets or kids did in the last twenty four hours!”  - me.

“Oh my God!  It’s not like I hate gay people.  Don’t look at me like that” – me.  I put my face in my hands.

“So you don’t like the political postings” – him.

“YES!”  - me, exclaiming it loudly. 

I HATE political posts on facebook because everyone sounds like they are expert assholes and I don’t want my friends to be assholes.

So no, I’m not homophobic, and I know equal rights for everyone is important, I’m just very tired of the political positioning everyone takes.  I think we should all just try to be nicer to one another.  Everyone, not just regular people. Politicians, criminals, lawyers, police, business owners, crossing guards, etc., etc., etc. 

Well, now.  There we are.  I have actually written something today.  Is it relevant?  Not really sure.  Will it be read?  Probably not.  If it gets read, will anyone comment on it?  I highly doubt it.  But I have reached the goal I wanted to reach today and it has actually made me want to write something else.

Have a great day!