Trends on Facebook Today, and Why I'm Scared for America

I confess, I have an unhealthy addiction to Facebook.

I like to know what's going on in the lives of my family and friends, obviously. I'm an introvert--increasingly so all the time, it seems--so Facebook is something of a lifeline for me in terms of maintaining relationships that are difficult to hold onto otherwise. I like to stay on top of current events. I enjoy clever memes. And, yeah, I gravitate toward spoilers and theories about The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones. And quizzes about '90s music, iconic movies, and Stephen King books, which I usually ace. Go, me.

Usually, there is a pleasant balance of personal, educational, and entertainment offerings on Facebook to keep me going back.

Today, though...today was different. Where were the pics of cute kids wearing "3 months" stickers? The memes about dogs and thunder? Even Donald freaking Trump?

I guess the first thing is that there are many cancer scares going on in my circles. Tumors removed. Cells regrowing. Radiation therapy. Some of my peeps are sharing positive news, but in general the Big C is beating down many that I love. It's pretty depressing, yet I love that they have the courage to share their journeys when many don't. On any other day, it would make me pensive and thoughtful and probably increase my chats with God (yes, we have a relationship).

Today, though...

And the son of one of my sister's old friends was in a very bad car accident. A bright, handsome, kind-hearted boy who volunteered his time and openly loved his momma and baby sister now lays in a hospital bed with swelling in his brain, a brand new tracheostomy after removing the breathing tube didn't go well, and the real possibility of a permanent shunt. The boy is still unconscious, but it seems likely that there will be some degree of permanent damage. A lot? A little? Only God knows, and only time will tell. He is strong, and he's a fighter, but the hopeful tones of the daily updates have darkened a bit. I chat with God about Tyler, too.

Today, though...

People are angry about the shootings of African-American men Alton Sterling in Louisiana and Philando Castile in Minnesota at the hands of police officers.  People are angry that a militant named Micah Johnson went to a peaceful demonstration against officer-involved shootings (and both Sterling and particularly Castile were pretty obviously victims of heavy-handed police officers, yet the demonstration was by all accounts peaceful until Johnson destroyed it) and killed five Dallas police officers. People are angry that President Obama is doing nothing, yet Obama characterized the Dallas shootings as "vicious" and "despicable" (further, he has tried desperately and taken much heat for trying to keep assault rifles out of the hands of people like Micah Johnson, but that's an inconvenient truth that nobody really wants to talk about). People are angry that "Black Lives Matter" has become "a thing". People are angry that "Black Lives Matter" has had to become "a thing". People are angry because they are incapable of seeing how you can be both appalled at the brutal murders of two men by police officers abusing their power yet hold police officers as an entity in the highest regard.

People are angry because they are scared. Philando Castile was trying to comply with an officer's request to get his ID after informing the officer that he had a license to carry and was armed when he was shot. In front of his girlfriend. And her four-year-old daughter. We want to tell ourselves that this doesn't happen in our country. It did, though...Castile's girlfriend had the presence of mind to videotape it.

And Sterling? A homeless man was harassing him for money. Threats were made. Police were called. Two officers had him on the ground. He had no gun in his hand (one of the officers took it out of the pocket of his pants). He was shot in the back multiple times. And what are people talking about? That he had a criminal record. Why? Because they are scared and shocked that this happened, and even though his prior criminal activities have nothing to do with this situation, it seems to make people feel better about his death to imply that he brought it upon himself, at least a little, through past bad acts.

I could never be a police officer, and I respect those that are tremendously. However, police officers that do go too far, that act without thinking, that kill before understanding the situation when there IS no pressing emergency requiring multiple bullet wounds in the back or shooting off the arm of a compliant cafeteria worker in front of a young child...it is a problem, and the dawning awkward reality that this is happening increasingly to African-Americans cannot be ignored.

All lives matter, and we need to make sure to focus on our black brothers as well as our blue brothers in the aftermath of this latest ugly chapter. All colors, all races, all people need to step up to the table and say, "What can my part be to solve this problem?"

Make no mistake. It IS a problem, and it's not going away. Instead of spewing hateful rhetoric on Facebook and Twitter, let's try to solve it together.

Any ideas?

Sometimes I Think There Should Be a License to Parent ...

It's been quite a day already at my house ...

Ariel worked harder than I knew was possible for her to do as she and Jeff put up the new pool.  It's much bigger than the old one, though, so they had to clear and level the ground first, and it was a procedure that took all day and went well into the night.

Unfortunately, Jeff has to work today, so it's not going to be ready for swimming until later today, if at all.  Ari clearly missed that message last night at 10:30 pm when we ate dinner (pizza from Domino's ... I love gift cards!).

I woke this morning to Ari gently shaking me.  She was holding her sister, who was dressed, which should have been a clue (I vaguely remembered Jeff waking up at just past seven, lamenting that he didn't have time to take a shower or he'd be late for work, and I quickly realized that he would not have had time to dress the baby).

"I wanted to let you sleep in," Ari said apologetically, "but Gabby's hungry."

Indeed she was, and while I fed her, Ari sat next to me, strumming like a tensed wire.  I finally asked, "So, what are you up to?"

"Do you think we can start putting water in the pool?"

Hmm.  No big surprise.  "It's not that easy, honey.  We have to put in an inch to start and make sure there are no leaks, then we have to actually fill it, then the whole shock and chemical thing."

"So can we go do that?"

"We have to wait until Jeffie get home from work  He mentioned doing the leak-checking if he comes home at lunchtime, but we'll have to wait and see."

With a patented teenage eye roll, she said, "That makes no sense at all.  We can put an inch of water into pool and check for leaks."

"And what do we do if there's a leak?"

That stymied her. "Patch it?"

"Do you know how to do that?  I sure don't."

At about that moment, Gabrielle decided that she wanted to express her displeasure with life.  She started screaming like crazy.

Gabrielle is generally an extremely happy baby.

When she screams like that, it generally means she is either hungry, tired, or needs a diaper change.  When she is upset, she shrieks and cries these huge tears.  If you don't know Gab, it's pretty disconcerting; fortunately, it's pretty easy to figure out what she wants.

Since I knew she wasn't hungry (she'd just finished nursing) or tired (she hadn't been awake for long after over twelve hours of sleep), I figured I'd change her diaper.  I asked Ari if she would bring a diaper in for me.

"What?"

"Would you bring a diaper in, please?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

"What?"

When she came into my room, she had a diaper with her, so I knew she'd heard me all the time.  I thanked her and started changing Gabby, who really didn't need to be changed but was screaming nonetheless.

"Can I go outside and ride my bike, please?"

Gabby's screams get, if anything, louder, and huge tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"No, honey, not right now."

I tried to convince Gabby to take her pacifier, and in the brief moment of silence, Ari asked, "Why not?"

"Because I need your help with other things today."

"But I have soooooooooooooo much energy I have to get out."

Gabby started wailing again as I said, "So does Howard.  Why don't you take him outside and play ball with him?"

She groaned.  "Do I have to?"

"He's your puppy, Ari.  It's your responsibility to make sure he gets enough exercise."

"I'll do it after I ride my bike."

"You'll do it now, please."

"Come on, Howard," she grumbled, leading the excited dog through the house and then slamming the door on their way out.  It got Gabby shrieking even more, which I hadn't thought possible.

I carried Gabrielle, still screaming, into the bathroom.  I happened to look out the window and watched Howard bringing his ball over to Ari, dropping it at her feet, and looking at her expectantly.  I also watched her walk away from him each time and sit in one of the patio chairs.

I called her inside, and we had words.  Gabby screamed the whole time, and I started getting a pretty terrible headache.

I finally told Ariel that she had lost the pool for today.  She started crying, realized that any further words from her in addition to Gabrielle yelling into my ear and flinging herself all around, and gave herself a time-out downstairs in her playroom, where she read a chapter of her book.

Gabby was still going hot and heavy when Ari came up twenty minutes later and apologized.

I said that was fine and I appreciated her apology.  "Can I take Howard out?" she asked.

"Of course, thank you," I replied.  She took Howard outside and played actively with him.

I still couldn't figure out what was wrong with Gabby, so I tried feeding her again (not interested) and changing her diaper, which there was no need of.  

Ari and Howard came back in around this time.  "Why is she screaming?" Ari asked.

I told her I wasn't sure and explained that it was probably time to give her some Tylenol and a full body look-over because the obvious answers weren't panning out.

I gave her the Tylenol then put her back down on the floor.  Ari sat next to me, and I explained to her (because she likes kids and is probably going to be doing a lot of babysitting in a couple of years) how if you go through every single body part and area systematically, you can sometimes find things you might miss.

"Like what?" she asked.

I told her about the time when she was a baby and she was just inconsolable.  Like Gabby, she was a pretty mellow baby, so I knew something was wrong.  I finally took her feet out of the outfit, and a string was wrapped around one of her toes, cutting off the circulation.

"Was I okay?" she asked, very concerned

"Do you have all ten of your toes?" I replied.

"So what's wrong with Gabby?"

I had finished my examination and could find nothing wrong with The Gabs.  I did, however, notice that Howard was chewing on something in that way he does where you know he's trying to be stealthy.  It was the dispenser for Gabby's Tylenol, so I asked Ari if she would hold her sister so I could grab it.

Howard gave it up happily--he knew damn well he wasn't supposed to be chewing on it--and I washed it quickly and went back to Gabby, who was now lurching herself in strange directions while Ari tried to hold her.

I took her from Ari, put her pacifier in her mouth, and started rocking her.  I was pretty sure that she was crying because she is teething and shared that information with Ari.

"You know what I was just thinking about?" Ari said.  This is a common--and dangerous--preface for an Ariel dissertation.  "You know how, in The Grinch song, it says he has termites in his smile?  He doesn't HAVE a smile ... I mean, he's the Grinch, right?  I mean, come on!"

She kept prattling on about the Grinch and Gab kept fussing, so I decided it would be a good time to go to Walgreens to get formula and toilet paper.  I figured Gabby would fall asleep in the car (she often does) and Ari might actually stop talking for a minute if I put music on.

The trip was moderately successful.  Gabrielle enjoys shopping, so she was chilled out even though she was awake.  Ari kept talking, but I pretty much half-listened and she didn't seem to mind and/or notice. When we got home, she helped me unload our purchases then took Howard out.  Gabby had--miracle of miracles--fallen asleep in the car, so I had a couple of moments of blessed silence

Because I wanted to be sure not to wake Gabby up at any cost, I pretty much sat at the kitchen table with her asleep in her seat in front of me and read my Facebook newsfeed.

And I was disturbed as hell.

I try not to judge, I really do, but sometimes I am appalled.  I hesitate to write this because I don't want to "out" anyone specific that might be reading this, so I'm keeping it general.

*  "Thank God my parents took the kids for Fathers Day.  John and I really needed some time alone.  It's not like we couldn't have done this some other weekend, one that wasn't set away for fathers and their kids."

*  "My kid is refusing to walk at graduation.  This hurts me so much. I really wish I'd stood up to her when she was 6 months old and refused to sleep in a crib; since I didn't, she has known that she can push me around."

*  "I am going to move in with a guy I've been dating for a month.  He lives in a tiny trailer, but I don't have custody of my kids anyway, so it's not like they'll be over a lot.  I'll definitely see them less, though, because I spend all my free time with my new boyfriend."

* "Can someone watch my kid next Friday night?  There's this amazing party planned, and I haven't gotten to go out in over a week because of the kid.  Pleeeeeeeeease help me out.  I'm only 19, and I deserve to have fun once in awhile."

*  "My baby won't stop screaming.  I am seriously going to go put her out in the car because it's the only way she'll fall asleep. I'll just take a little nap so I can rest up, and I'll run the AC, so it's not like she won't be safe."

*  "I can't believe Susy's science teacher gave her a D in Science.  I mean, what is wrong with that teacher?  She's going to lose her athletic eligibility because of that stupid teacher.  And when I went in to complain, he had the audacity to tell me that Susy is in high school now and should be increasingly responsible for herself.  I think HE's an irresponsible schmuck.  Also, he told me that I should take time out of my busy life to look at her grades posted online.  What the hell is it with teachers these days?  He wants ME to keep track of her grades?  Isn't that HIS job?"

So I went back through my morning in my mind, how I'd taken Ari's pool privileges away, how I'd taken the kids on a car ride to keep the one with diarrhea of the mouth quiet for five minutes and the one too tired to sleep to drift into a nap, how I'd never really figured out what was wrong with Gabby and how Ari was very clearly trying to get back into my good graces so maybe her punishment would be rescinded.

And that's when I realized that I am not a perfect parent ... but my kids are always, always, my top priority.  I even texted Emily to say hi since I hadn't talked to her for a couple of days and I missed her.  Having Gabby asleep on the table in front of me was boring; I craved her sweet toothless smile.

I missed Ari's prattle, and I missed exchanging texts with Emily (we have some fun with emojis).

Why would anybody spend time and energy on Facebook bitching about their kids on a regular basis, or making it very clear through Facebook statuses that you are putting a guy that's pretty much a stranger to you before your kids, or showing over and over in so many ways that your kids are not a priority to you?

I'm not going to lie.  My kids drive me apeshit sometimes.  That is not something I would generally publicize, though, and I certainly wouldn't consistently complain about them on Facebook (or anywhere else) or make very clear that my thoughts are on this guy I just started dating instead of on my kids.

Sometimes I think I must be very unusual.  I would rather spend time with my kids than anyone else.

One of these days, Ari is going to stop talking to me.  She is going to think I'm lame, or she'll be at a point where she doesn't want to confide what she's doing to me.  And Emily will sometimes go a day or more without texting, and it hurts my heart (I know she's busy and that's a stupid thing to be sad about, but I can't help it).  And I feel terrible guilt if I go out before putting Gabby to bed because we have a routine; she is saying "Mama", after all, and that confirms to me that my place is being there for my children.

Why is it so unusual for me to prefer the company of my kids to anyone, including private and alone time with my husband, my friends, and my family as well?

I know intellectually that I'm not the only one that feels this way, that a lot of people reading my Facebook this morning would have been equally disgusted.

I guess it just saddens me that people are so willing to publicly state their apathy, their disinterest, their preference for others, when it comes to their kids.

One of Emily's friends once said to her, "Your mother is so nice.  Does she every get mad?"

Emily started laughing and said, "Oh my God, you should see her when nobody else is around.  She just believes in keeping personal business personal."

How you feel about your kids is personal.  It's one of those things that, if remotely negative, should be talked about to a therapist or a close friend but never, never trumpeted on Facebook.  After all, if a mother is talking about her new boyfriend on Facebook all the time and never mentioning her kids, the truth of the matter is probably even deeper and those kids are feeling a huge void, whether their mother realizes it her not, because she is now absent from their hearts as well as much of their lives.

I decided to write this post at about this point and asked for feedback on my Facebook wall.

I got some interesting responses ...

 "It's sad...and happens so often. My HS kids crave adult attention!"

" Um yeah talk to my ex Sister in Law who completely 100% told her kids have a nice life and then got married. Hasn't even seen her 1st grandkid who will be 1 next month....."

"it is something that breaks my heart. These same parents are usually the most harsh to judge our homeschooling, kid-centered family. Which is interesting because I just feel bad for them - that they have beautiful kids who they don't enjoy - what part of them is broken and needs healing? I've seen this a lot w/respect to addictions. I really just pray that their hearts and spirits will be healed and they will be able to step into engaged parenthood fully for everyone's sake."

"I totally respect people who make the decision to not have children. Whatever the reason - it's very important to go into having children w/ clear intention if at all possible. (Not discounting many parents I know who are awesome who were...surprised... and have risen to the occasion.) And when society puts on a lot of pressure to have kids - it takes a lot to withstand it."

"Find the balance...question your motives...ask a true friend for honest perspective...get quiet and listen to your gut! I could go on and on...I was told that I was a good mother because I wondered if I was a good mother...I still wonder if I was/am..."

"I knew I could never handle children especially is this day and age. So many rules of what u can and can't do so many opinions. My feeling is u walk into schools in this time and u see how the kids behave. And u walk into a school 20 or 30 years ago and see how things have changed. You tell me if physical discipline is wrong. I got physically disciplined and there's nothing wrong with me."

While I was reading through some of these, Ari and Howard came bounding back into the house, slamming the door behind them.  Naturally, Gabby woke up.  Screaming.

Ari was in a great mood, though, and Howard had obviously been well-exercised.  I took Gab out of her seat and brought her over to the blanket on the floor where we change her.  She stopped screaming and smiled a bit at me.

Then she made a weird grunting, animalistic noise.

"Gabby, you sound like a constipated horse!" Ari yelled, and we both started giggling madly because that's exactly what she sounded like.

My kids--all three of them--make me laugh harder than anybody, smile more widely than anyone, and enjoy life so much more than another person every could.

Based on what I saw on Facebook today, this is not the norm.

Am I nuts ... or are those other parents, the ones that openly attack or blatantly ignore their kids?

I'd love to get your thoughts on this.  As a teacher, it's an area that haunts me.

Why My 20th High School Reunion Matters to Me

I'm going to be honest, I didn't love high school.

My birthday is at the end of October (but I was reading at a high school level as a first grader, so they started me in first grade when I was probably too young), so I was significantly younger than most of my classmates and never really felt like I fit in.  In fact, my closest friends in school were not in my class at all.

I always felt like my sense of humor, my sweet nature, and my ravishing beauty were lost on many of the people in my graduating class.  In large part, it's because I went through a pretty traumatic time in 6-8 grade when my parents were going through an extremely acrimonious divorce and I burned a lot of bridges and had a terrible attitude.

Anyway, I had no interest in reunions before this one.  I put on a lot of weight as a coping mechanism to a trauma that happened when I was twenty-one (my life has apparently been trauma-ridden ... I'm rarely bored, though ;-)), none of the people I wanted to hang out with would be there anyway, I was only a teacher and not some international world traveler or working for a Fortune 500 company, I didn't fit in with "those people", and blah blah blah. (Evidently my bad attitude followed me into adulthood)  

I kept waiting for someone to do something about the 20 year reunion, one of those people who seemed so on top of it in high school, who things seemed to come to so effortlessly.

A couple of things happened to me, you see, that have changed my attitude, my life, my priorities, and so on.

First, I almost died giving birth to Gabrielle in December.  In fact, technically I died twice.  That sort of experience changes a person.

Secondly, I am in the process of being diagnosed with a "progressive" disease.  It's a disease people die from, but they usually suffer a lot first.  Over a long period of time.  Yeah, I'm not super excited.  What I am, though, is ready to enjoy life while I can.  I'm ready to make up for the lost time I missed due to bad attitude and traumas.

I've found through Facebook that many, many people in my graduating class are kind, funny, caring people.  I was foolish to think otherwise.  And once you've become friends through Facebook, it seems stupid not to carpe the freaking diem when an opportunity like a twenty-year reunion comes up.

Finally, I am out of work until the next school year.  In addition to being destitute and stressing about mortgage payments and doctor co-pays, I am starting to become bored.  This reunion has given me something to focus my energies on during Gabrielle's naps and my puppy Howard's walks.

It has been fantastic therapy.

I believe in the power of positive thinking, although I didn't always.  I am excited about this reunion and hope that everybody goes.  It would mean a lot to me personally, and I think the friendships I have seen develop on Facebook speak to how wonderful it would be to get together.

Each day is a gift, after all.

I am not writing this for pity, by the way.  I have three wonderful children that I will brag lots about at the reunion, a kind and loving husband, a puppy that keeps me busy, a career that I love, a mother/siblings/nephews that I see all the time, and an appreciation for the small things in life that I never before possessed.

Also, I write a lot.  Being a writer has always been my dream, and this blog goes back to 2009 (and I've gotten to write for some other people and places as well, which is a treat).

I just wanted everyone to know why I, who was never exactly "involved", am spearheading this reunion (with lots of help!), and why I very much want everyone to try to come.  If you were on the fence about going and this played a role in swaying you, it was certainly worth writing.

For those of you not in my graduating class ("the intended 'audience' of this piece," says the English teacher in my head), what are your thoughts on reunions?  Good, bad, or ugly?  Necessary evil?  Why do some people choose to go, and some people choose to "sit it out"? 

Repercussions of Rape (Part II)

It is truly amazing to me the response I have gotten from people based on my post Repercussions of Rape (Part I).  So many people have spoken of how courageous I am and how much help it is for people who have experienced sexual assault to read it and know they're not alone.

I am truly humbled by that. Please know that I appreciate the kind notes, Facebook messages, texts, love, and support.

The truth of the matter is, I honestly thought I was over the rape.  I really did.  Like, I didn't think about it, didn't talk about it, only occasionally had nightmares about it.  I even got told by a counselor (originally he was a marriage counselor, but the third time my ex-husband showed up late to the appointment, we realized that marriage counseling was a waste of time but he would happily continue to see me as I felt I had some unresolved issues beyond being emotionally, mentally, and physically tortured by my ex) after spilling the whole rape story that I had great coping mechanisms and there was no real need for me to go back.  He was happy to have me come back if I needed it, insurance would cover it, but there was no real need.

I had no idea that it was consuming my life.

My rape was characterized by someone overpowering me, speaking down to me, telling me I was  nothing, and the guilt associated with my best friend thinking I was sleeping with some other guy in his house when he and I'd had awkward, random, drunken casual sex a few weeks before.

When I encountered a bully, and there are many adult bullies that prey on people they scent weakness in, I would get sweaty, nauseous, clumsy, and my heart would start racing.  I never knew why I had such a visceral response to assholes.

It certainly couldn't be about the rape, right?  A therapist had told me I had great coping mechanisms and a solid support system, that I was just fine.

I do not want to get into specifics here, but just imagine that a person is in a position of power over you in your professional life.  Imagine even further that this person is a bully, a cruel person known for talking about his colleagues (bosses, lateral equals, and peons like me) behind their backs, of laughing at the misfortunes of others, of speaking down to people until they couldn't stand up any longer, telling people they were wrong when this person had no idea what h/she was talking about, and pouring on the guilt by emphasizing how your shortcomings (the ones that s/he had given you) explained why you did a crappy job.

If you had survived my situation, one would think that being bullied by some pathetic loser who epitomizes the Peter Principle would be nothing ... but it wasn't.

So I messed up.  A lot.  It took me forever to do anything at work because I was so anxious, and then it reached a point where it was coming home.

Being beaten down at work every day turned me from a fairly confident woman with many and varied passions (reading, writing, the beach, traveling, spending time with friends) to one who internalized everything.  The dog knocked something off the table?  My fault.  My daughter broke her leg and had to be in a cast because she was screwing around at Hannaford?  My fault.  The washing machine broke? Yup, my fault.

At first these were just feelings, and I tried to keep them from my husband and kids.  After Gabrielle was born, though, it came out in words.  This hypothetical a-hole boss honed the keen blade of self-loathing that went back to 1998, and with the stress of Gabrielle's bloody birth, which was sort of a nightmare, I came to a point where the rape, and its repercussions, nearly killed me.

After the rape, when I washed my hands, there was blood in the sink.  I saw blood in the sink when I washed my hands a month or so ago (and, I mean, I'm an English teacher ... I felt like freaking Lady MacBeth).  I am afraid to take showers, because the shower I took following the rape was when I started to come back to myself, and I was alone and so damn scared.  I will wake up screaming, or I'll jerk awake.  According to my husband, I say the things I said to my rapist when I am asleep, sometimes in a mumble but sometimes nearly yelling.

I am not healed now.  I am in counseling, and I suspect I will be for a long time.  My husband is extremely supportive (except when he's in a bad mood, which is almost never).  I've found some online support groups and even some groups that meet face to face, but the humiliation of someone knowing about the rape makes that medium hard for me.

I guess that makes me posting about it ironic, but the thing is that I am a teacher.  I have had more than one student tell me they were sexually assaulted.  I have heard stories that make my own experience seem very small.

I guess the bottom line is, sexual assault, molestation, rape, whatever word you want to use, they are more common than you might think.  If you are reading this and you feel alone, please know that you are not.

If you are reading this and you are one of my many wonderful friends whom I've blown off, I suspect I've put enough info here for you to figure out why.    

There is a picture that circulates around Facebook from time to time, and I guess that's what I want to end with.

Facebook Steroids

I am a self-admitted Facebook addict.  I'm not proud of it, but there you go.  It's kind of hard not to be when you're a writer, as it's a prime opportunity for a poke into the human psyche.  After all, what people choose to post speaks volumes.  

The biggest setback, for me me anyway, is that I struggle with short posts.  I even struggle with short responses.  Therefore, often I say nothing at all.

Today, I am going to write extensive responses to things that come up in my Facebook newsfeed.  I'm thinking that might be some great fodder for conversation ;-)

From my Facebook Newsfeed (sic)

* "Unbelievable.  In this day and age, I was just told I could NOT use special characters in a password.  Fortunately, I don't think there's anything financial on this site."

My personal theory is that some special characters are not readily available on all sites and in all countries (I just found out from Emily that France has a different keyboard than we in the U.S. do.  I guess that makes sense, but it never would have occurred to me on my own until she was complaining about getting used to the American keyboard again.  Anyway, maybe people are doubling up on special character combos (I suppose it's possible that 400 people might put C===3 as a password ;-)) Anyway, good luck.  My passwords are centered around kids, pets, and the number 69.  I am weird.

* Decided this morning I would get serious about losing 10 pounds.  Got to work and was told it was Outdoor Living Safety Day (lots of free, grilled food).  Went outside and got two breakfast burritos consisting almost entirely of delicious, grilled meats.  Off to a great start!

Oh, you know what they say about Murphy's Law, about spitting in the devil's face, and blah blah blah.  First, you are very lucky that you only have ten pounds to get serious about.  I have about 50 more than that, if it gives you any perspective.  It's one day, so hopefully you enjoyed your meaty breakfast burritos (which sound delicious, by the way) and can move forward from here.  I'm more interested in Outdoor Living Safety Day ... I've never heard of it.  Is it just about grilling?  Can you make dandelion wine?  Is the impending rain going to move it indoors (LOL)? Good luck with your ten pounds, and don't beat yourself up too much ... I recommend the MapMyWalk app, by the way; you could conceivably exercise off the calories you took in with your burritos, if you really wanted to.  I wouldn't, though; at this point, I'd just eat a Twinkie and start again tomorrow ;-)

* I want to go back to bed so I don't have to think.

Going back to bed is the worst thing you can do.  It is, however, only a temporary solution (take it from someone who spent a lot of time hiding in bed). I would recommend a walk.  I discovered the joys of walking about a month ago, when I was at something of a rock botttom.  It really clears your mind, and if you walk in different places (nature trails, main roads, the mall), you'll never get bored.  Just don't walk on highways as I'm pretty sure that's illegal.  Beyond that, call or text a friend.  Find a place to watch a movie (I'd recommend a tears-inducing chick flick or a comedy) and eat a bunch of popcorn and talk when you can.  I know you have people in your life that have more to offer than your bed, even if it's just to keep you from thinking.  The person writing this is even one of them :-)

*WHEN are people going to stop sharing Facebook posts that are based on nothing but somebody's desire to rile up all of America's dumbest citizens?  Learn to fact check.

Do you really need me to tell you that the answer is "NEVER"?  Powerful people love the ignorant, largely because they are such a good, loud voice. I know a lot of really good people that have been misinformed about things by people in positions of power and trust.  I don't argue with them, but I shake my head at their ignorance.  Oh, and recently I wrote a blog post about it where I state that homosexuality is neither evil nor a choice, that abortion should be a choice (but not to be used as birth control), and that vaccines do not cause autism, all of which are well-supported stances.  Put another way, I was once married to a statistician.  He told me that, if you ask enough color-blind people, you can statistically prove that the color red does not exist.  So, yes, learn to fact check.  You didn't need my rambling, you got your point across very well <3 br="">

* Stomach is still killing, follow-up with doctor tomorrow.  They said it's stomach flu but from all this stomach pain to the point of can't walk it has to be something else.

The lion's share of my medical issues have been gastrointestinal in nature.  I am currently being worked up for something called Primary Biliary Cirrhosis, which is scary as hell, in addition to my other gastro issues.  They tell me that, my new gastro confesses that my records from Maine Medical Center showed some pretty hard core stuff, and then I go to schedule this test where they are running dye through my bile ducts ... and the soonest they can do it is mid-June.  What the hell, right?  My advice for you is to go to the ER.  They will draw labs then and there and can give you IV pain meds.  Doctors, particularly gastros, are very careful about giving out pain meds for obvious reasons.  I was actually pissed that  my new gastro didn't give me some narcotics at our initial meeting, but my sister and mother helped me understand why that was.  If I was in unspeakable agony right now and walked into the ER, I know that they would a) do blood tests b) see that one of my liver enzymes is elevated off the chart c) give me pain meds and d) direct me to set up an appointment with my gastro.  Hmmmm, now that I think about it, maybe that way I could get that specialized test done before mid-freaking-June.  I hope you feel better soon <3 div="" nbsp="">

Response to my Facebook post about this post collected as I'm writing (above, which reads, "Today I'm going to write extensive responses to things that come up in my Facebook newsfeed for my blog.  I'm thinking they might be some great fodder for conversation.") (sic)

* "Well, I'm glad you're productive, I just read the same paragraph three times in my 'essentials for nursing research' (yawn) book ..... ugh

I'm really not productive at all.  One of my personal goals is to write every day, and I couldn't think of a darn thing to write about, so I'm stealing ideas from other people.  I wish that I had the skill set to become a nurse, but I can imagine that your reading is pretty dry ... Let's face it, any book that starts with 'essentials for' anything just sort of screams, "I'll solve your insomnia problem!"  Good luck!  Take a nap and walk around the block ... that might help you wake up a bit.  It won't make the book any more interesting, though.

How You Get Your News: Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

I get my news from a Facebook page called Manchvegas Alerts.  It's a nice little play by play of the police scanners, with commentary, sometimes videos of people fighting in the streets of the grim ghetto of the lovely city, in addition to your basic news stuff.  

Yes, I'm serious. It is freaking epic.

                                    Manchester, NH (affectionately referred to as "ManchVegas"

And yes, by the way, little old New Hampshire does in fact have a news channel, the milquetoast WMUR.  They are scooped by Manchvegas Alerts all the time.  It's really kind of awesome.

I'll get an alert from WMUR that I already read on Manchvegas Alerts, sometimes hours before.  

And the staff is extremely funny.

It got me thinking, though ... I used to teach Journalism, and I always started with the concept of communication.  How does one person convey a message to their audience?  Then we play charades for a bit, then we get into cave drawings, and things go upward from there up to the modern day newspaper.

My family got the local newspaper, Foster's Daily Democrat, delivered every day, and I read it cover to cover.  I didn't always understand it, but it certainly generated some conversation.  One day, when I found one of my neighbors on the DUI license revocation list, my parents talked about trying to keep me away from the newspaper.  

As Scout Finch said in To Kill a Mockingbird, "Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read.  One does not love breathing."  

So I guess I should be grateful that my parents considered that, because, while they never followed through, I had learned the lesson that the news--the newspaper or the nightly news and probably even some books, although not the ones I read at the time--was accessible.  

I was also inexcusably nosy.  I still am.

And I still love to get my news.  In fact, I love it more now than ever.  I don't have to read an entire newspaper cover-to-cover, I can scan through headlines on sites of interest.  I do have the app for WMUR, to be fair, and I also read CNN, MSNBC, and Fox (because I actually try to be fair and balance) for national news.  I love People and TMZ because I have an obsession with celebrities.  

And that's just what's reaching out to me ...

If I decided I want to find my ex-husband on the aforementioned DUI license revocation list, for example, Google does it (and I can giggle with glee).  If I want to know about the new medical condition they think I have, I can go to PubMed.

For Pete's sake, Facebook suggests friends based on your friends and sites or pages based on your interest ... the whole Big Brother thing is pretty overwhelming.

I cannot fathom technology and accessing the news any simpler than on my iPhone.  The newspaper as an institution is long dead, and even news sites are losing steam because of pages like Manchvegas Alerts (seriously it's a laugh riot, but it's the news).

What do you think the future holds for journalism?

Is Facebook Reverting Adults Back to Eighth Graders?

I am a Facebook addict.  I really am.  I post updates about the weather, random quotes (primarily from famous drunk Irishmen), and pictures that nobody cares about but me.

I mean, does anyone really want to see either Belle's modeling pics or her "Beaver Face"?

She does clean up well, no ;-)?

But seriously, one of my FB friends posted last night: "Age does not define whether you are an adult.  Your actions do.  Some 'adults' are so fuc*ing childish", and I had an epiphany.

Facebook has made it so much easier for adults to act like children ... for teens to bully each other ... for cruelty to perpetuate.

How often do you hear, "Well, so-and-so said this about Joe Blow on FB.  The post isn't there?  Well, it was.  They must have taken it down so there's no proof."

No proof?  What is this, a court of freaking law?  It's a social networking site!

So I commented to my FB friend, "Amen!!!! And FB has really exacerbated this...I am soooooo amused by adults 'punishing' each other by unfriending.  It's like being back in eighth grade."

Her response?  "Or people who can't talk like grown ups, instead choosing to rant about someone on that person's FB and then delete and/or block them.  THEN do this so  many freaking times they have to keep making new FB pages with different versions of their name because they've pissed off too many people and can't keep track of who they've deleted, blocked, or ranted to.  Yup.  Very adult."

All of which got me thinking how lucky I am to have avoided that degree of drama.

My own personal experience with this is tied to one person (well, two, I guess...three if you want to count my fiance, who probably set the wheel in motion), and while part of me would love to rant about his transgressions, both emotionally abusive through Facebook and physically abusive in reality, I try to be better.

Suffice it to say that when someone should be on the post office wall for deadbeats, somehow has the money to travel all over the place virtually every weekend (and document said travels on Facebook, which is one of the rudest and nastiest in-your-faces I can imagine) and buy sweet new cars (with pictures proudly posted when, as a result of said deadbeatery, his child is riding in a car with 250,000 miles on it), and post on FB pictures of a child he chooses not to see for month-long stretches at a time as though he were there and involved instead of yoinking pics from someone else's wall, it is pretty deplorable.

And yet nobody said ANYTHING about those transgressions.  He totally got away with being an irresponsible, self-centered douchebag.  Were these things frustrating?  Beyond belief.  But when you're an adult, you take the high road.  (And lest you think, as you're reading this, "Well, she's kind of doing what she claims to hate", please know that I am leaving out a million things and keeping this very general).

My fiance Henry, who considers the little girl in question the absolute light of his life, snapped over the combination of his princess' distress that "Daddy loves his girlfriend more than he loves me" because he chose to spend Father's Day with his girlfriend over his daughter and the far more disturbing FB post that he and his girlfriend went out for "Father's Day brunch" together (a fact that we made sure to keep from a little girl who would have been either more devastated).

Anyway, Henry made a comment on a Facebook post that was probably not particularly mature but was 100% accurate.  And was promptly unfriended, blocked, and otherwise wiped from the warped existence of an utterly insane world.

Which I can understand.  I mean, who wants to be called out publicly on his bad behavior?  It doesn't matter if it's true (in fact, it might even be worse, because ... well, I do wonder how some people sleep at night), it's probably humiliating to have the world potentially know just how badly you suck, particularly when you try to put up this professional facade which is a total joke to anyone that knows you.

Oops, I'm starting to cross that maturity line there ...  Focus!

What I do not understand, however, is why I was likewise unfriended, blocked, and otherwise wiped from the warped existence of an utterly insane world.  I did not make the comment.  I have always been there for this SOB, no matter what he's done to me, and I've never been snarky about the amount of money he spends on himself and his girlfriend even when I've had to roll quarters (and occasionally dimes and nickels) to have enough gas money to get to work because he is not paying child support.  

Okay, that was a little snarky.  God's honest truth, but still snarky.

The thing is, it's no great loss.  Frankly, the best thing he could do for his child is drop dead; he has lied to her and hurt her enough for a hundred lifetimes.  She is completely done with him, and forcing her to call him on the phone each night is an exercise in torture for both of us.  But, as they say, there is no luck like an alcoholic's luck, and so the nightmare will probably be continuing for the forseeable future.

It's the way it was done--"Henry pissed me off, so I'm going to delete YOU from Facebook"--that really hurt my feelings and, yeah, made me pretty angry.  Of course, it epitomizes this twit's M.O. and approach to life, so I guess there's that ...

One other thing that totally cracked me up is that I guess I'm in good company.

A friend who has managed to avoid his magic delete button told me the funniest story (yes, I'm aware of what I'm doing here ... consider it driving the point home).  He posted a quote from John Nash talking about how mathematicians are prone to "maniacal characteristics, delirium, and symptoms of schizophrenia".  One of his FB friends put "So are drunks!!!!!!"  The comment was removed...and so was the friend.

Some people need to play God and control their warped realities, I guess ...

Which brings this back to Facebook.  Never before have we had that degree of power over who our "friends" are, what we choose to publicize, and how we can show up on other people's pages via comments or pictures.  It's kind of scary ...

And it would be nice if people could act like adults on Facebook.  Of course, it would be nice if people could act like adults in reality, but this is a platform that unfortunately reinforces the opposite.

I love Facebook because I enjoy seeing what my friends are doing.  I like making plans through an outlet that ensures nobody is excluded because it's ...  you know, public.  I love getting to see pictures of my nephews and jokes and interesting articles.  And I adore hearing the latest quotes from my nephew in Baltimore, who is possibly the only person in the world more naturally funny than Belle.  

I try to avoid drama.  I see an awful lot of it, though, in my news feed, and it makes me feel uneasy.

In my world, I try to be nice to everybody.  I try to believe the best in others, and I constantly tell myself that their intentions are just being misconstrued.  I don't expect everyone to feel this way or try to live this way or whatever, but it's a nice aspiration.

And I truly believe that Facebook makes this more difficult.  The immediacy with which you can vent and complain and act without thinking through the ramifications is scary.  The ability for teenagers (and yeah, probably adults) to go on someone else's account and wreak havoc is even more frightening.

So what do you think?  Is Facebook (and, to a slightly lesser extent--unless you're a celebrity--Twitter) lowering the maturity level of mankind?

The Bittersweet Tale of the Jelly Bean Puzzle

If you are my Facebook friend, you have no doubt heard much about the jelly bean puzzle.  It has sort of consumed my life in a way, and it's brought up a lot of emotions that are ... well, quite frankly, difficult.

A couple of weeks ago, Belle started going through this puzzle phase.  Basically, she did every single puzzle we had in the house (virtually all of them fairly simple ... they're all Disney Princess and Fancy Nancy children's puzzles).

It struck a chord with me, to say the least.  See, I used to love doing puzzles.  It was one of my absolute favorite activities.

The problem is, it was an activity that I shared with my stepfather.  I would start doing a puzzle on the dining room table, and he would grouse at me about it, then the next thing I knew, he would be helping me with it.  We would have epic puzzle events, and on more than one occasion we would glue and frame the end result (we took on some tough ones).

Sometimes it would take us days to get through puzzles.  A lot of the time, we worked on the current puzzle together.  Sometimes, he'd get home from work and I'd have made a ton of progress.  Often, I'd get home from school and find that he'd gotten huge sections done.  If we were stymied, we'd work together.

I haven't done a puzzle since my stepdad's death in 2004.

While I love both my mother and my father very much, there were complexities that did not exactly allow us to have the best of relationships.

My mother suffers from hypothyroidism, and before she was diagnosed and began medication ... well, walking on eggshells is the best way I can think of to describe it.  You never knew what would set her off, and she caused deeper scars with words than I can express.  I also tended to get the brunt of it, for reasons that are skeletons in my family closet.

The same can be said of why my (and my siblings') relationship with my father is so complicated.  It is not my intent to air dirty laundry, particularly laundry that dates back to when I was a sixth grader.  Life goes on.

And I am the first to admit that I was not an easy child, an easy teen, or, for a long time, an easy adult.

Which is why my stepdad was so important to me.  He accepted me the way I was, held me accountable for my actions without being cruel and abusive, and did not allow me to take myself too seriously.  He also buffered my often-acrimonious relationship with my mother and allowed us to appreciate and even come to like each other (you can love without liking, and I think my mother and I had that dynamic for quite a long time).

When he passed, I descended into a depression so deep that I wasn't even aware of it.  I had never been able to depend on anyone or anything until my stepdad came into the picture, and losing him left me so lost and adrift that I couldn't even verbalize it.  Trying to support my mom without letting her know how lost I was also presented a challenge.

My mother and stepfather were truly, madly, and deeply in love, and I cannot imagine the pain she suffered, then and now.  My own loss, deep as it was, pales next to what my mother has gone through since the lung cancer death sentence came down.    

Ironically, it was Pythagorus' fall into mental illness and alcoholism that snapped me out of my own multi-year zombie state of loss and pain.  Someone had to be strong for the kids ... after all, hadn't that been what my stepdad had done for me?  He would have been disgusted, utterly appalled, by Pythagorus' actions, would have felt unspeakable disdain for the man who had shaken to the core the lives of his beloved granddaughters, and I didn't want to be in the category of people who would disappoint my stepdad in any way.  

As I pulled myself out of the mess my life had someone become, it was my stepdad's face that I kept in front of me.  It was his strength that got me through, and I came to terms with his death in the process, strange as that sounds.

I've come quite far away from the who puzzle thing ...

When Belle got on her puzzle kick, I decided that I would get a more challenging puzzle that she and I could do together, that it would be a way for us to bond the way that my stepdad and I had.

However, I clearly got a little overzealous with my choice of puzzle--a 1,000 piece monster made entirely of various colors of jelly beans.

Suffice it to say, I'm out of practice vis a vis the wild world of jigsaw puzzles, and Belle quickly found that this was a different kind of thing altogether and lost interest.

Progress has definitely been made ...

There is lots of work left to do, however, and it is a bittersweet experience for me.

Part of me keeps hoping that my stepdad will show up, because this was our absolutely favorite kind of puzzle--quite a challenge, and one that can be worked on a little bit at a time.

I'm just feeling like I'm not up to the task all by myself, and like I said, Belle bailed.

I'm going to keep on trucking, though.  Even if it takes me a month, I am going to get this stupid puzzle finished.  And then I am going to glue it and frame it and keep it for always, because even though it didn't necessarily allow Belle and I to bond in the way I'd hoped, it's given me back a little bit more of my stepdad ... in a healthy and not-depressed way, if that makes sense.

I am deeply happy working on this puzzle even while I'm incredibly sad.  Does that make any sense?

So anyway, that's the story of why the jelly bean puzzle that I've been bemoaning on Facebook is more than just a puzzle ...

Catharsis.

Note: School starts for me on Friday (I know, I can't believe it, either), which is also the day that Addie leaves for college.  I am going to be pretty busy (and strung out) the next week or so, but I have some great guest posts lined up--one from my favorite student of all time, one from my good buddy Martin over at From Sand to Glass, and one from a friend of Henry's who's become my good friend too over Facebook (don't you love technology?).  I hope you'll enjoy all of them (I think they're pretty amazing :-)), and if you're interested in writing a guest post, drop me an e-mail.

Commentary Conversations

Let's face it, the sad truth is that I blog because ... well, because I like hearing what people have to say in response to what I write.  It's fascinating, it helps me learn and grow as a writer, plus I've developed some good friendships with people via the blogosphere.

In addition to this, my personal blog, I also write for a site called Zelda Lily.  Blog readership in general waxes and wanes like the moon, and ZL is in kind of a comment slump at the moment (the conversations over there used to be utterly remarkable and really guided the directions that we writers chose to go in).

Instead of writing a post here today, I am going to give short descriptors of some pieces with links over to stuff I've written at ZL.  It is all work that I am very proud of, writing that I believe is capable of generating some amazing conversations.  It is my hope that you'll feel compelled to comment over at ZL, because it's only with a lot of comments that those amazing conversations can happen (and I don't get paid for this ... I write because I enjoy it).

*  This past spring, a drug task force went to a home in New Hampshire to serve papers.  The homeowner killed a police chief and injured several other officers.  He also killed a young woman in the house with him, a young woman whose mother spoke out in defense of her daughter's character ... until her daughter's own involvement in a life of crime came out.

*  A mother forced her 7-year-old daughter to lose weight for a Vogue photo shoot.  If the poor kid makes it to adulthood without an eating disorder, no one will be more shocked than me :-(

*  Henry and I watched the Super Bowl at a cigar bar.  It was, obviously, quite an adventure ... and I felt shockingly out of place.  Quite an experience!

*  Winterguard is a sport (well, I think it's a sport) that incorporates dancing with flag and sabre tosses.  Addie started doing winterguard when she was a junior, and it got me thinking about what defines the word "sport" ... and if winterguard does, in fact, qualify.

*  A high school cheerleader was sexually assaulted by several classmates ... yet SHE was punished for refusing to cheer for them at a sporting event.  As you may know, rape is a very serious and personal issue to me, and I couldn't get over how disgusting it was that a victim of rape had the guts to come forward and was summarily dismissed.  Horrible!    

*  A middle school girl was suspended from school for five days for posting on Facebook that she wished Osama bin Laden had killed her math teacher.  This opens up a really interesting discussion, actually, because it gets into some very dicey territory--it wasn't done at school during school hours, so SHOULD she have been consequenced at school?

Anyway, my internet is being incredibly slow, so I guess that's all I'm going to put.  I do hope you read and enjoy these pieces and, if you're so compelled, get some discussion going.

I will be joining in :-)

Concussion: Can't Think Much, But Feeling the Love Like You Can't Imagine

Sometimes, it takes an extreme event to make you realize how lucky you are, how love surrounds you everywhere even if you're not aware of it, that people care.  I think I must be a bit obtuse (or else a little bit negative, which I hope is not true because negative people irritate me ...), though, because it always seems to take some sort of crazy experience to make me realize how good the world really is.

When I was taking a shower on Saturday afternoon, I slipped and found myself suddenly airborne.  I landed on my face straight on the solid wood wall behind the tub (with such force that the shampoo and conditioner bottle flew into the toilet ... yeah, it was funny later), and the next thing I remember was sitting on the floor of the tub with blood gushing.

It was really scary, to say the least.  My first concern was my teeth (like most people that wore braces, I'm ridiculously paranoid about my teeth), but they all seemed to be there.  Relieved that I wasn't toothless, I figured out that I was bleeding from my upper lip and nose.

And that it hurt.  A lot.

I was really dizzy and my head was throbbing, but I was more caught up in the blood (oh, and okay, the very good possibility that I was going to have a huge scar on my face ... I really am a bit more appearance-obsessed than I'd like to think).

I got dressed quickly and took a picture.

The reason for a shower at two in the afternoon was because I had to be at school to chaperone a dance and wanted to be clean for the occasion.  My mother, who helped me ice and seal the cut on my face so I would not need stitches, did not think driving to work was a good idea, but I'm Co-Advisor of the senior class, which was putting the dance on, so I really had to be there.

I took this picture at a red light, just so I could monitor progress ...

Anyway, I felt okay until I got to school.  Once there, I got extremely dizzy, the muscles in my neck started killing me, and what had been a minor headache started to boom out of control.  My colleagues and the principal very kindly let me leave early to go to the hospital to be checked out.

When I got to the hospital, they put on a neck brace since the side of my neck was really sore.

As soon as the neck brace was on, my arm started to hurt horribly.  Now, it had been hurting a bit, but I figured I'd just fallen on it when I went down (I don't remember what happened after hitting my face on the wooden shelf), but the neck brace caused it to just scream.  It was awful.

Turns out my arm was black with bruises, and they thought I might have broken or dislocated my collarbone.

After x-rays and CT scans, it was determined that I had no broken bones (arm, collarbone, or face).  I did, however, have a concussion, a neck strain, and a rather ugly cut on my upper lip.  Oh, and a bad attitude.

My mom came and got me, and I introduced her to the joys of the drive-through pharmacy, then we went home.

I actually felt pretty good on Sunday and wanted to go to work on Monday (I hate missing work, and it ends up happening far too often because I'm unlucky), but the doctor note said I could not work on Monday, so I was stuck at home.

Which ended up being a really good thing.

I started off by being all upset at how awful I looked.  I posted this pic on Facebook stating that I guess now I know what I'll look like when I'm old (or if I became a meth addict or something).

As the morning went on, I started throwing up, which was, according to the discharge papers, something I should be concerned about.  I also got extremely dizzy (like, standing up and trying to walk was like being on a ship in the middle of a hurricane) and my headache just exploded with pain.

I don't remember doing this, but I wrote on Facebook meaning to ask my sister (she's a microbiologist, but for some reason I go to her for medical advice) if throwing up multiple times and being dizzy a couple of days after a concussion was normal, but I ended up posting on my own wall and tagging her in it.

I guess what got scary was that I was making typos and spelling/grammar errors.  I am ridiculously anal about spelling and grammar (I even put semi-colons in my text messages ;-)), so a lot of people started to get nervous and worried about me.

My mom also just forwarded me the following e-mail exchange we had yesterday morning, which scared her badly (I should note that my mom is a nurse practitioner, so I asked her for medical advice, too).  I'm sharing it here because I still can't believe that I wrote it ...

Hi Mommy,  

 I just threw up for the second time this morning. Is this something I should be worried about? I've felt "sick" all morning and figured itwas from the pain medicine, but wanted to see what you thought. Myheadache is really bad, too, so maybe that's why (sometimes when I get bad migraines I throw up). I wanted to let you know, though. Hope your day is going well Love you, Kate

 Hi Katie, Two things:  Is your headache the same or worse?     And:   Can you just take the valium and not the Percocet (it has Codeine in it and that gave you some trouble before)?   Try to drink some coke or other liquids and keep me posted. Love, Mom
Hi mommy,About the same. I think as long as I just sithere and don't move I'll beokay. I feel like I'm going to trow up again, though, so I'll probablyhave to figure our how to get to the bathroom. Well not how but howwithout getting more dizzy. I'm okay though.
I love you!Kate
Sent from my iPhone 

Hi Mommy,
My headache is worse (althoug that might be from throwing off)
U'll take just the Valium after my stomach settles. Can I take ibuprofenthough. My head hurts.
I'm also dizzy, but that might be from throwing up. 
Can I use the cursed word lol?
Love you,kate

My mom came home from work and helped me get dressed and took me back to the ER.  The worst part was that the sun was so bright I thought my head would explode.  It was horrible.

Anyway, they did another CT scan and gave me medication via IV, and I felt much better when I woke up.  They'd given me Percocet (for pain) and Valium (for muscle relaxant) on Saturday, and they changed it to a prescription Naproxen, and I'm feeling much better now.

I have a headache right now and I'm a little sensitive to light (and my arm is still pretty sore), but I've had lots of migraines worse than this.  Also, pics of  me today don't look like mug shots ;-)

But none of that, believe it or not, is the point of this post.  It's just relevant back story.

I wrote a piece for Zelda Lily that ran earlier this week that dealt with the way technology has really taken over communication in 2012.  A guy named Jake Reilly gave up social networking (from Facebook to texting and everything in between, including cell phones and e-mail).  I thought it sounded cool, but opined that I'd never be able to do it myself.


You know what?


I'm awfully grateful for technology.  Not only did my mom come right home from work as soon as she realized that something funny was going on with me (she thought I had a subdural hematoma and would need surgery--I have no idea what that means, but it doesn't sound good), but my Facebook wall just lit the heck up.


It might sound small and insignificant, but people that I haven't seen or spoken to face to face in years were offering concern and advice.  One friend texted to say that they needed my address since they were calling an ambulance.  That just totally blows my mind (which, thanks to the concussion, probably doesn't take much, but still ...)


Now, I might be an unusual case since anything I write with spelling and grammar mistakes is kind of a flashing red warning light, but still ...


From a fair distance away, people were not only worried but willing (and able, which is just remarkable) to take action and get me help.  That's just ... well, mind-boggling.


That and the number of people that cared.  My mom kind of has to care about me (as she tells me all the time, it's in the job description), and Henry drove straight to the hospital as soon as his work day was over (he didn't find out before then because he follows the "no cell phones at school" policy ;-)), my aunt who is an O.R. nurse at the hospital I was at came down to see what was going on (she'd been following the concussion drama online), but ... all those people on Facebook, man.


All those people caring.


It's not just mind-boggling ... it's humbling.


I am so full of love for everyone that showed caring and concern for me yesterday.  I am incredibly grateful ... and I am incredibly lucky.


Just curious, if you get a chance to go read my ZL piece, what are your thoughts on technology?  Is it overused?  Are we turning into vegetables (or angry birds) as we drool at computer and/or cell phone screens, or is technology a good thing?


After yesterday, I am singing the praises of technology.  Something else to be grateful for :-)


xoxo