Why I despise facebook…but that doesn’t stop me from logging on!

Know why I hate facebook?  Because all those things my parents said to me when I was in high school, which I now say to my own teenager, “most of these people won’t matter to you in ten years”  or “your only gonna have to deal with this for the next four years” or “in the grand scheme of things…”  — well I believed all that bullshit and then suddenly Facebook comes along, I get sucked in and than I find myself feeling 16 and vulnerable and anxious and worried about who my real friends are and whose going to try to steal my boyfriend this week so I end up blocking people who I didn’t like in high school and who I certainly don’t want looking at my profile now that I’m thirty-something or, even worse, I find myself accepting friend requests from people who didn’t give me a whiff when we went to school for four years but now they somehow want me in their “network” because now they’re a “goody-two-shoes-mom-of-the-effin-year” and they somehow want to post things about raising money for their breast cancer walk or the class of ’92’s upcoming reunion! 

Do I sound bitter much?? I suppose so…because my insatiable appetite for virtual people watching somehow keeps me going back for more!  In moments of great courage I go thru my friend list and “UNfriend” people who, in “the grand scheme” of things, really shouldn’t matter to me anymore.  I congratulate myself on being able to press that “confirm delete” button and at the same time I feel like a complete jerk for letting my teenage angst creep into my (supposedly) finally comfortable, adult ego. 

The truth is, I still maintain relationships with the people that DO matter from that time of my life, and I keep in touch with them enough to know what’s going on in their lives today, so why did I have to go and mix it up by creating a facebook account?  The answer is simply, because I’m curious — I can’t help myself.  I wanna believe that we all turned out to be better adults than teenagers, better Mother’s and Father’s than anyone could’ve anticipated — that we are all as successful as we should be, and that we’ve all somehow evolved into wise, loving, courageous people.  Even if that courage means not accepting a particular friend request, or hiding someone’s posts, or not saying something nice about people’s posts or pictures just for the sake of saying something.  It’s not about ill-will so much as it is about being comfortable in my own skin Today at Thirty-five and knowing that I just don’t need to revisit who I was at fifteen or sixteen — when I thought I knew it all.

Don’t get me wrong, as soon as I’m done typing this out, I’m sure I’ll be logging on to my facebook account.

-toodaloo

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I’m being attacked by an army of mini-me’s!

Of Course, by “army” I mean three, and mainly one child, who shall remain nameless for today, in particular. 

I am certain that there is way too much estrogen in this house today!  There is no reasoning with a two-year old, this much I know, but sometimes when I’m talking to her and she is just giving me the “I-hear-you-but-I-don’t-care-what-you’re-saying” look, I’m thinking to myself, “speaka de english??”  UGH!! 

As a result, I’ve made appointments at a few different preschools to check out next week.  Two days a week, a few hours a day will probably do us BOTH some good.

Today, my reason for drinking is just over 2 feet tall, with beautiful blue eyes and a wicked, ornery smile.

-toodaloo

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Filed under family life/family nonsense, Rants

She’s Crafty

So,  I decided to try and make banners with the girls names for their room.  I’m in the mood to redecorate a little but I really want to make an attempt at a few personal touches…this will be my first contribution to their “new” room.  It took me about a day to complete all three banners, that includes breaks to take care of the kids, grab the mail, make lunch etc…  Please excuse the lighting in some of the shots, my dining room table doubles as my sewing area and depending on the time of day I get a lot of different hues/shines in my pictures…don’t worry, photography is on my list of hobbies as well, so hopefully I’ll improve all my “dabblings” a little at a time.  🙂

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Click To Empower: Tweet4YWCA

Click To Empower: Tweet4YWCA.

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Domestic Violence: www.clicktoempower.org

Domestic Violence is nothing to ignore and we need to reach out to our friends, sisters, loved ones at every possibly moment to help.

Please, PLEASE visit this site to help, all you have to do is CLICK:

http://www.clicktoempower.org/

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Are you an Obituary Reader?

I only ask because I am, you see, and I get a lot of raised eyebrows for it when I admit that I read them. 

Here’s the thing, though… I know I am not the only person that does this.  My motives are harmless, curiousity more than anything — I can’t stand the boring two sentence ones, I am much more inclined to read the really long ones.  Twisted as it may be, I wanna know their age, how they died, funny tidbits, accomplishments, kids, family — the whole shabang, really!  In my mind I want to create a picture of the individual who passed.  Make them, you know, colorful and human… What about you?

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Filed under Questions, Queries & Curiousities

A Diction

I am the whirling dervish in the lightbulb that’s your brain.

The Screaming Banshee

right behind You

thought you’d never see again.

And I will hover in your dreams, your every thought, your very breath.

I’ll keep you near me, hold you captive, wrap you tightly to my flesh.

I will devour your defiance.

I will ingest your self-control.

I’ll hold your head down deep within the heavy soup of my black hole.

Breathe me slowly

taste the awful

bitter drain that I invoke.

And there I’ll linger, in your mind..your heart..

Your Soul is where I’ll soak.

 

I wrote this a couple years ago for my college creative writing class but, for some reason, I was too afraid to turn it in and have it critiqued…rhyming isn’t everyone’s “thing” but the words literally fell onto the page the first time I wrote it so I feel like I was on to something…maybe.

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Filed under Attempts at Poetry