Friday, February 27, 2009


This morning I was banned by a friend on Facecrack. Yep, I went to view their page and everytime I clicked their name it took me right back to my own page. Banned. Blocked. Denied.

So it got me thinking. Of course I thought about why I might have been BBD'd - but mostly it got me thinking about the internet and my use of it.

Right now I have 200 friends on FB - a place where I share quite a bit of detail about my life, including photos, and I'm not always sure who sees it. I've changed privacy settings and have started limiting who I accept as a "friend".

And yet I love FB. I love the ease at which I can stay connected with people...particularly people I might not be able to connect with otherwise. I love being able to hop on, tell someone something, and then hop off. Our triathlon group has a page where it makes communicating between four busy people relatively easy.

It is just difficult to put your finger on what technology does and what you want it to do for you.

This site started off as a sort of journal. And then as more people started reading it I became more selective in my sharing. At the same time, when I did share I craved responses and didn't always get it. It has become this strange thing of relating feelings, thoughts and emotions for their own sake - and relating information for discussion or response. These two aren't always complimentary.

So, I'm revamping a little. I took the blog off my "displayed blogs list" so that when I comment on others' blogs they are directed to our family blog. Sometimes I think people come here, knowing bits and pieces of me, and are a little overwhelmed by the things I say. Or maybe not.

I also took off the blog roll. We still have this on our family site but I did not feel it was necessary here. I'm reverting back to journaling on here.

If you're reading this now - you are most welcome to stay my reader. I hope you do. And I always appreciate comments but don't need them. If you do read something that provokes you, you are always welcome to call me. I miss the phone calls. Blogs and forums and FB have all started replacing snail mail and the telephone - not to mention even email.

And yes, I finally updated the site so that the display looks better. Oh, I could spend ample time picking out blog designs. What joy.

Monday, February 09, 2009


I just noticed that my blog background was removed - so I found it again and re-uploaded it. However it doesn't quite work - so a facelift is in order.  It does make reading my posts a bit difficult - and I apologize. 

I'll change it as soon as I can.  Please bear with me.

I am putty.

Tonight as I was cleaning the house I started running through my massive collection of This American Life episodes.  If I was ever to have enough passion about a product to go door-to-door it would be this one.  I'd be a missionary or a salesperson for This American Life.  If you haven't listened to it already - you must.  See below for my recommended episodes.

As my iPod worked it's way down the list, starting with A Little Bit of Knowledge and headed towards Your Dream, My Nightmare I stumbled across one of the treasures.  Apology.  An entire episode devoted to apologies.  And in this treasure I found a nugget of truth for myself. 

One of the acts of the episode is David Sedaris reading from his book, Dress Your Children in Corduroy and Denim.  I've listened to this episode before - maybe even a few times on drives and such.  But tonight I heard him say something, while talking about his sister Lisa, that feels true of me.  (I'm using my dictaphone skills here and typing while he's talking - this material is all his!)

College hadn't quite worked out the way she'd expected, and after two years in Virginia she'd returned to Raleigh and taken a job at a wineshop.  It was a normal enough life for a twenty-on-year-old, but being a dropout was not what she had planned for herself.  Worse than that, i had not been planned for her.  As children, we'd been assigned certain roles- leader, bum, troublemaker, slut - titles that effectively told us who we were.  Since Lisa was the oldest, smartest, and bossiest, it was assumed that she would shoot to the top of her field, earning a master's degree in manipulation and eventually taking over a medium-sized country.  We'd always know her as an authority figure, and while we took a certain joy in watching her fall, it was disorienting to see her with so little confidence.  Suddenly she was relying on other's opinions, following their advice, and withering at the slightest criticism.  "Do you really think?  Really?"  She was putty.  

It's frightening to hear it stated, so clearly, from the voice of a stranger.  As if he'd called my siblings, cousins, family and friends and then read it outloud on stage.

I don't like it - but it's true of me.  My prescripted life plan veered off the path a while ago. While there are parts of my now that I love and cherish,  I know I look at where I am versus where I thought I would be with disappointment, angst, and anger.  

Somewhere I lost that umph I once had.  Kind of like Stella and her groove.  And I'm just trying to get it back.  

For more This American Life brilliance - check your local NPR stations for schedules or subscribe to their weekly podcast.  You'll discover some jewels.  Or check out these episodes for purchase either at their website or on iTunes.  

#270 Family Legends  (Act Two is AMAZING!)
Switched at Birth  (I listen to this one every month.  I still cannot get over it.)
(I better stop here - I could just keep going, and going...)

Do you feel like you can listen to one within the next week?  Can I call you and follow-up?

Thursday, February 05, 2009

Keep on keeping on...

I've been waking up far too early.  Again.

This is a pattern that emerged for me a few months ago and then disappeared.  Or so I thought.

4:00am.  That's when the call to arms goes off in my head.

Actually it's more like this:  

At 2:00am I wake up.  Stretch my legs and roll back over.  Fall into a deep enough sleep to get some funky dream going.  This morning's was about being at Coachella. Each night my dream reaches some critical, dramatic stage at which point I open my eyes, still dazed and confused, but alert.  I look at the clock.  Maybe it says 4:00.  Maybe 4:15.  Maybe even 3:45.  I try in vain for 20-30 minutes and then realize that sleep is not going to come.

I try my old standby - a book in bed.  Nope.  

I try listening to and following E's deep, rhythmic breathing.  Nope.

I get out of bed.  Check on the boys (assuming they aren't already in my bed).  Move to the couch or the kitchen table.  I'm up.  I might as well be up.

And then slowly but surely the thoughts that were steering my dreams start clarifying themselves. Soon my heart is racing. My mind is filled with thoughts, ideas and problems.
Being a problem-solving type I begin to try and solve things in my mind.  But I forget one thing.

I am tired.

The tired doesn't help me try to clarify or solve anything.  In fact the best advice I got from those silly little games they play at wedding shower was "Give yourself permission to go to bed when you're angry.  Staying up will only play tricks with your emotion and mind.  Things will look clear and be solved better in the morning." (thanks Aunt N!).  That is the same for dealing with my own world issues.

So in an effort to both cleanse my mind and put things in a place to deal with later, here are the things I'm thinking about, trying to solve, worrying about, etc.

* Running.  I am supposed to run but my legs are still incredibly sore (and unbelievably warm) and I'm not sure I can get my mind in a place to make my body do it. *
* Elementary schools. Finding a place that I can trust with both his mind and his mouth is a new challenge. *
*  The economy.  Particularly the job market here in this area.  *
*  Her.  She knows who she is.  *
*  The other her.  And her entire family.  Or most of them at least.  *
*  Asia.   Canada.  And the relationship between them and our family.  *
*  a 5k.  Feeling totally unprepared mentally or physically for it.
* Vegetables.  How do I get them in him without a battle?  How do I get him to eat anything but cheese and carbs?  
*  Yes job. No job. Day job? Night job? Anything I can get job? *
*  Charter school.  Le Grand Elementary.  Homeschool.  My Mom's school.  *
*  Family vacation.  Why did I volunteer to plan this?  Am I taking too much charge or not enough?  *
*  Menu for Valentine's lunch.  *
*  My thoughts.  I worry about whether I worry too much or too little about things.  Yes, I did just say this.  *
*  Running a damn race.  What was I thinking?  *
*  Bills, checks, money in, money out.  Money to come.  Where should it go? *

Well that feels better.  So much better that my eyelids are heavy.  

Oh wait...I hear the stirring of little bodies.  Soon it will be time for breakfast.  At least that isn't on my list!