I talk to my E-friends more than my IRL friends...is that wrong?

I'm a little freaked out about it.  I mean, I already knew that I was completely dependent on technology at work and would probably be struck mute if I had to answer a question when the server wasn't working.

But that's different.  That's not my fault.  I can't help it if the business world has gone paperless.  All I can do is adapt like the good worker bee that I am.

I think my problem started with texting.  I rarely speak to my kids in person anymore.  Even when they're home, I text them.  It's just so much easier.  I get quick, abbreviated, generic replies.  There's no discernible tone or attitude to tiptoe or stomp on my parental nerve endings, thus keeping my blood pressure and my temper at more manageable levels.  Plus, I can still text in my "mommy" tone which basically just requires me to use short clipped sentences in all CAPS.

Phone calls and get togethers were still the norm for socializing with my friends though.  But then came this Blog and Facebook.  It happened gradually due to my disdain of the electronic egotism of those around me.  I was positive I would always prefer direct communication over the emotionally stilted contact provided via this two dimensional vehicle of social destruction.

I was wrong.

I love it...love it...LOVE it!

I can control whom I speak with and when I speak to them.  I can be witty, humorous and intelligent, thanks to editing and time delay.  I mean, how many times have you played back a conversation (argument) with someone and come up with something wonderful (scathing) that you wished you had thought of at the time.  Well, guess what?  Through the beautiful medium provided via the information highway, you can.

I love both sets of friends but I definitely communicate more frequently with my E-friends.  It's so much easier and less demanding that way.  Since I could be the Queen of Lazytown (as long as the title didn't require me to do anything), in my world the terms easy and less demanding translate to better.  And let us not forget the addictive nature that accompanies a simple two syllable word:  Comment(s).  (it should come with a warning)

When I realize I have a Comment, I can feel my heart rate increase and I try to take my time in order to savor the anticipation but like any other crackhead, I need my fix and I need it NOW.  Just back off people and let me enjoy the buzzing in my head for a minute...or two.  Ahhhhh, nothing better than a nice braingasm to get through the day.  (well, there is SOMETHING better but this isn't that kind of post)

My E-friends bring me happiness as easily as my IRL friends.  The difference being that they bring it to me in small controlled doses and apparently my psyche craves that kind of slow torture...but let's not delve any further into that area.

The point is that I prefer this form of virtual socializing to the extent that my own family is now seeking acknowledgement from me through my blog.  They provide me with photos (I really like using photos or funny cartoons to accentuate my posts, in case you couldn't tell) and funny stories in hopes that I might use it in some way. 

I have no idea if they are just trying to feed their own egos or if I have left them with no other means to bond with their new Cyber mom/wife. 

Either way, I have learned my lesson and I will have a talk with my family tonight...you know, just to reconnect.  I won't have to explain my motives because I've already posted them in this blog.

My hubby, who is a complete Cyber hubby, is a lot more understanding about the whole thing.  He has been an addict longer than I and has therefore built up a resistance.  I am satisfied with one Comment but that's not enough for him anymore.  The Comments have to keep coming and he has gone to some major lengths to get them, even using cute pictures of his own nephew just to get an "awwwww" Comment.  I'm getting to that stage myself.  I can feel it. 

My attachment to real people has thinned.  It's kind of like that weird privacy zone that silently forms when you get in an elevator with strangers.  But that may only be my issue.  My hubby is friendly and social whether in two dimensions or three.  That's one of the things I've always enjoyed about him.  He loves to talk to elevator people, maybe it's the muzak that inspires him.

Either way, we are quite the homebodies and rarely go anywhere.  So tonight, I'm going to suggest we take a walk or if this wind keeps up, at least open the drapes and enjoy the view.

"Wow...look at THAT honey!  Honey?"

"Hang on...I'm getting my camera."  *click* 

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to post that picture right now."

"I can't believe you.  Haven't you been paying attention to what I've been trying to tell you?"

"Huh?"

"It was my idea to look out the window.   I should get to post that picture..."

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

(for those of you who don't know, E-friends are how I refer to the people I talk to on-line and IRL friends are my friends In Real Life.  there are some people who fit both categories and I think I love them most of all)



Moody Monday? Holiday Burnout? Who knows...

Here's something that made me giggle when I have mostly just wanted to gag all day.  I don't know if anyone is feeling the way I am today but if they are, I hope this cheers you up a little, plus the knowledge that you are not alone in that dark and dreary place you're huddled in.  I'm there, you just can't see me.

A Glimpse Tells You Nothing

The young girl looks though the glass.  She can see through the living room to the dining room and all the way to the kitchen.  There must be close to twenty people in there.  She can hear their voices, their laughter and even the soft sound of Christmas music in the background.  She can see their faces, their smiles and the little comfortable touches some of them exchange. 

Food is being prepared as the long table is set for the large group of family and friends.  Children are running around giggling and squealing merrily as they use the various adults standing around as part of the obstacle course they have created in their impromptu game of indoor tag.  This lasts until one of the children makes contact with an elderly lady carrying a gravy boat and the collision contains more bump than bounce.  As the spilled gravy is cleaned up, the children have been scooted into another room to play.

The house is filled with soft light from the Christmas tree and the fireplace as well as a sparkling chandelier that hangs protectively over the long dining table.  The velvet texture of the light blurs the edges of the glass and adds to the magic of the scene it reveals.  A smile plays across the little girl's lips as she imagines herself running about with those children, feeling the pureness of joy that is born from childish innocence and the gift of unfettered freedom that comes from loving parents.  The wonder of it all fills her with a peace she has never known in her short life.

Then, someone calls her name.  It's her brother.  She closes her eyes and tries to ignore him.  The sound of her name tugs at her and she realizes she can't stay here any longer.  The world she's been watching isn't hers.  She belongs on her own side of the glass.  Maybe someday, she would find a way in but it was doubtful they would let her stay.  She was different from them.  The girl knew in her heart that if she tried to get in, she would destroy that beautiful flawless world. So, she just watches them though the glass. 

Her brother's voice is getting louder and the girl quickly jumps up, takes one last look into the large gilded hall mirror and hurries over to the long table under the sparkling chandelier.

A Letter to God by my Yorkie-Poo, AKA Chubaka or Chuey

Dear God: 

Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember to be a good Dog..



1. I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up. 



Somebody has to clean it up.  I am completely misunderstood and my efforts continually go unappreciated.

2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.

3. The Litter Box is not a cookie jar.

4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'.

But it is MY sofa

5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.



Oh but he is and I WILL be keeping my eyes on you, Trashy!

6. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.

I thought it was mine.  How was I supposed to know?  Look at how they dress me.

7.  Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying 'hello'.

8. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after.

9. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt across the carpet.

Unless of course it itches and then all bets are off.

10. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch.

11. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.

But it is a very VERY funny thing.

P.S.  Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?

Talk about emasculating!  It's a wonder I'm as well behaved as I am.

Silent Monks Singing Halleluia

A little entertainment since I don't have time to post today.  Too busy Christmas shopping.  Procrastinators, UNITE!

The loss of a disconnected friend

I've known you longer than I've known my children.  Not a close friend but a family friend, one with whom I associate fond memories and sincere affection. 

You were one of four then. 

Since our connection was third party really, when that party departed, the connection was severed.  I had heard some news not too long ago.  It was hard to believe and I wished all of you well but the distance was vast and my prayers were all I had to offer.

You were one of three then.

I would see the three of you on a rare Sunday.  We would say hello, hug, and exchange pleasantries, complimenting each other's children and reminiscing over the "lighter, brighter" days.  In the end, we would head off in our own directions, once again disconnected.

Now there are two...and you aren't one of them.

The news was shocking-a tragic accident.  It seemed false somehow.  A story about a stranger except that it was about you.  You have been in my thoughts the last couple of days and this morning, I could feel you in the air.  In the beautiful day that greeted me, after the cold gray mornings of the past couple of weeks.  In that blush of pink and sunshine all around me, I felt you.

Though you are gone, you are not forgotten, my disconnected friend.

WTH is going on with FB profiles?

• What the h3ll is happening to Facebook profiles?

I have always considered myself an adaptable person.  As a matter of fact, I have taken a lot of pride in the way I handle change.  When I use the word change, I mean it, I am not referring to problems, roadblocks or other forms of mayhem.  The latter are NOT things I handle well unless you consider exploding into a high volume rant, followed by a tsunami of tears, resulting in a hiccuping, snot dripping, red-eyed adult finally appearing, a good way to handle problems.  If you do, than I ROCK!

Anyway, back to my original gripe.  I have always embraced change but in my humble opinion, change should be triggered by reason and function.  This profile thing may have some tech-y reason but it does not help me, the FB user...at...all.

How do I let my FB friends know how I feel?  Are they only supposed to randomly discover this via the News Feed?  I don't know about the rest of you but I know my loyal and conscientious FBer's go to their friends' walls to check statuses and to post random and / or uplifting comments.  But now, when they arrive at my wall, can they just glance at the top to check my current emotional or mental state (i.e. my status?)  Nope, not if my profile has been updated they can't.

If I wish to show my support for a worthy cause by posting something on my status for a specified amount of time, will it show at the top of my wall as a moral flagship waving in the virtual wind...not if my profile has been updated.

And then, to rub salt in the wound, the new and "improved" profile also lists your most recent photos along the top.  Well guess what Facebook?  Not all of us are proud of every photo posted and maybe, just maybe, that photo I posted from my office Christmas party (with my skirt tucked into the back of my pantyhose while doing the marcarena) wasn't something I wanted streaming on the top of my wall.  Did you ever think of that?

If this is the result of change, get me a horse and buggy.  I will do my social networking though the Pony Express!

side note: I have no idea how to spell marcarena and spellchecker wanted to change it to macaroni so I apologize if it is misspelled.

My breath catching...my stomach fluttering...my pulse racing

At first...the innocence of connection...

 And then...the anticipation...the urgency...the uncertainty...I remember it...

My breath catching...my stomach fluttering...my pulse racing...I can feel it.

When it began, my emotions were so sharp; my mind so clouded.  Hope and fear resided in my heart, keeping rhythm. 

As time passes, the clouds clear and the intensity dulls a little.  Strangely, I find that hope and fear still rhythmically pulse within my chest...

...Some things just don't change

I like the way I feel now.  It's easier to contain.  It's real.   But sometimes, I miss that overwhelming swirl of...love?...lust?...maybe both.

I do know I can sometimes find the echo of those feelings when I look into his eyes.  I think that's where my hope stems from...

...but the fear comes from the knowledge that those feelings are alive and well within me today and I feel them, full force, whenever he looks into my eyes.  It's as wonderful and terrifying as it's always been.

                       And I hope...always will be...

Post-Thanksgiving Hangover

Having overeaten and busted any diet plans I may or may not have had prior to the holiday season, I can't help but feel a little down in the dumps. 

On top of the usual depression, my husband battled a horrific bout of food poisoning (gotta love that age old tradition of stuffing a turkey with breadcrumbs, letting it soak up all of those turkey fluids and then serving and eating said breadcrumbs...great tradition). 

I arrived back from California with a shivering, weakened hubby, one healthy daughter, and another daughter with a fever of 101.9.  We were worn out, grumpy and pretty sick of each other.  Family road trips tend to do that to us.

Once we were settled in, I received a call from my Mom that her heater was out and she's been freezing for the past few days waiting for us to get back to town.  She said she didn't want to call the repairman because he's Hispanic so she would rather my husband, who is also Hispanic, call him.  (Just so you know, the repairman speaks English just fine but my Mom feels that he would prefer to speak Spanish...this from my Thai mother, who has a heavy accent herself but is offended when people want to speak to her in Thai)  Needless to say, my husband called the repairman and drove across town (45 min.) so he could talk to the guy while he fixed my Mom's heater.

My daughter has been home sick for the last two days.  Most of the time, my 17 yr old daughter is nowhere to be found, even when she's home, it's like she's invisible.  But not now.  Oh no!  Now that she's a living breathing receptacle for viruses and infestations...she wants to cuddle.  I have tried to avoid her advances, while trying not to hurt her feelings (quite the balancing act...as my fellow victims of harassment are aware).  However, despite all my valiant efforts, I AM SICK.

Ever the dependable employee, I'm here at the office, sneezing and coughing all over the clients and ready to pass out over my keyboard.  But I am here.  I don't want to be at home tending to a sick hubby and child anyway because I am ever the dependable wife and mother as well.  (Well...at least I play one on this Blog) ;D

I want to escape it all and go hide under a rock until the Holidays are over because with all of these lovely events occurring within my happy home, I still have this weekend to contend with.  What happens this weekend, you ask?  It is the thing I dread more than anything...Christmas Shopping Hell!

That's right folks.  Battling traffic, running reconnaissance missions to obtain a decent parking space (one that doesn't require you to walk 3 blocks and risk being mugged for your Christmas goodies), dealing with other grumpy shoppers and their greedy little children (who are also little viral receptacles at this time of year), and then there's the problem of finding the right gifts for everyone before the other shopper gets it. 

I see her, casually walking by the panty drawer at Pink.  Acting as if she's just browsing.  You're not gonna get one over on me, Lady.  I need ALL of the size 4 boyshorts in that drawer.  I've got two giant Christmas stockings to stuff for two very petite and picky teenagers, dammit.  That b!tch better move the hell away from there...Oh...uh...Hi Mom...I didn't recognize you.  I don't know what you're talking about.  I wasn't glaring at you and no...that was not a taser I was pulling out of my purse, that was my cell phone.  Maybe you should sit down.  I think these crowds might be getting to you a little.

I will get though this.  I WILL get through this.  Maybe I should just shop on-line...of course, then I have to watch out for all of those identity thieves out there in the cyberworld.  But I'll be ready, taser...uh, I mean cell phone in hand.

Good luck my fellow shoppers but remember: Stay Out Of My Way :)