Kittens, Bacon and Self-Control — or, Just Skip That Meme

I was perusing Facebook, minding my own business, when I saw it. I knew it would happen eventually. The hive mentality of social media made it inevitable: take a good idea, make it your own (usually with kittens) and post it. Our Seven Degrees of Bacon world will bring it around to me, eventually — and this morning, it did just that.

I didn't want to see it. It's not my cuppa. In fact, it's my anti-cuppa. I know that, and you know that — but you weren't thinking of me. I just got caught in the trolling net, pressed against your "clever" meme. I think I got a rash from it.

So I did what any self-respecting social media user would do under the circumstances: I hid it.

If all we did was agree to disagree, I could live with it. However, this was more than that: your meme disturbed me. I wasn't "uncomfortable," and you didn't just "push the boundaries." It's not the bacon, or the duct-taped nipples, the smart-ass comments about the bone-head politician you love to hate. It's more. I bet you knew that when you posted it — and that's why you posted it.

Because You Are Right — And If You Share That Information, I Will Come To My Senses.

I already have limited what I see, but, alas, that filter isn't perfect. I can't leave the social media conversation without leaving you — which I know would hurt you deeply. Intellectually, you'd think, "No big deal." But we both know your heart, and it would crack, just a little.

In a true social setting, you and I could have avoided the topic. Well, probably, depending on who else was in the room. If it was your brother-in-law or cousin, I'd be as successfully netted and dragged along. However, in conversation, I would have found a common ground. I would have deflected, or changed the subject, maybe even excused myself to pour bleach in my ears to wash out what I just heard.

However, on social media, you think you're sharing with only the people with whom you agree. We all do. In the thrill of the meme, we hit the "share" button instantly. We forget that social media is one big party where everyone wears their most obnoxious novelty t-shirts — and gnash their teeth at everyone else's t-shirts.

I love you. I love you deeply and with a fierceness that always surprises me. I will hold your hand in the parking lot to keep you safe, give you the plane ticket to get home, drive all night to rescue you if your car stops working. I'll be your safe house, your hiding place.

And yet, on social media, you'll push bacon memes in my face, and I'll push kittens in yours. You think yours are funny/inspiring/truthy, I think mine are harmless. And yet we both have hives.

So today, I showed a little self-restraint: I didn't tweet my smart aleck comment. Somehow, I knew you'd know it was about you, even if I made it vague. Even if I didn't mention the bacon. I knew you'd know. More importantly, I would know.

After that, I skipped something I was going to share. I like edgy from time to time, and so do you. However, this one... It was clever, direct and unflinching. So why did I flinch? I mentally went through my (admittedly modest) list of contacts and saw your name. I knew it would bother you, and I had to choose. I chose you.

This hard-won, late-to-the-game awareness exhausts me almost as much as the social media itself. It's only funny until someone gets hurt — then, depending on your meme, it's "freakin' hilarious" or it's over. I suppose time will tell which I choose.

Fun Friday: Tell Someone You Love Them

Poetry Wednesday: Meeting and Passing

National Poetry Month is right around the corner. Do you have a poem you can't wait to read? Share it with me — you could win a book of poetry for your efforts...

Meeting and Passing

As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol

Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met and you what I had passed.

by Robert Frost
courtesy poets.org

s I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met, and you what I had passed - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23416#sthash.HAac2F8s.dpuf

Meeting and Passing

  by Robert Frost
As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met, and you what I had passed.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23416#sthash.HAac2F8s.dpuf

Meeting and Passing

  by Robert Frost
As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met, and you what I had passed.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23416#sthash.HAac2F8s.dpuf

On the Ill-Advised 'Social' in Social Media: Comments

I don't read Internet comments most of the time, but sometimes I can't help it: a word or phrase catches my eye ("Nazi whore") — and I can't help but screech to a stop.

Bad idea.

Sometimes — often — too often — with alarming regularity, people "show others the error of their ways" via "general population" comments on media stories on the Web or social media posts. Please, please resist the urge: no one on the Internet wants to be educated by your comment. Not once have I known anyone to "see the light" because of an inflammatory comment left by friend or foe, acquaintance or stranger.

Usually, when I see such a statement or argument, I just move along and think, "Moron." (Sorry, it's true: such attempts at education often backfire. They just prove what I have suspected all along: I'm smarter than "you," person with your too-personal-to-be-relevant-to-me moniker and edgy avatar.) (Oh, c'mon: like you haven't thought the exact same thing.)

And yet...  every once in a while, I get sucked in with a pithy (or even verbose) inflammatory comment. Just last week, "Victoria" hijacked a conversation by a self-defined feminist group with the phrase mentioned above. Suddenly, Coco Chanel's quote wasn't about women's empowerment or feminism, but Victoria's hatred of Hitler and stupid Chanel for falling for his claptrap in the 1930s.

Now, Hitler falls into the category of "all evil, all the time." He might have encouraged the development of the Volkswagen Beetle, but he single-handedly — well, read the history books. So, no, I won't "like" a quote by Hitler on Facebook.

But Coco Chanel? Henry Ford? Margaret Sanger? If they supported Hitler back in the day, are they pure evil, too? And what about —

Wait! My blog has been hijacked by Hitler! And Victoria!

No, I hijacked this conversation myself. I injected Hitler and Victoria into my blog. I am the architect of my own derailment.

General comments on the Web often devolve into diatribes peppered with arguments that are summarily dismissed or trounced by the "louder" keyboard. Distracting? More often than not. Inflammatory? Guaranteed. Clever, witty and fair? Rarely — although if they are, they're buried in the miasma of poorly-written knee-jerk reactions.

No matter how much we pretend, social media are not discourse. They are platforms on which we reaffirm our ideas and philosophies — and become angry and frustrated when people post opposing materials. Remember the civil exchange of ideas during the 2012 U.S. election? Yeah, me neither. We abandoned our "friends" in droves, hiding updates in news feeds, un-friending, un-following and un-liking in record numbers. Take a look at your follow or friend list on Facebook and Twitter: anything there with which you don't agree? Yeah, me neither.

The same goes for news articles: rarely does it take more than a few comments before the "conversation" spins off-topic to a subject of the hijacker's concern. Choose a flashpoint: current U.S. President, political party, Hitler... 

We use Facebook to share the perfect someecards. Twitter serves of our pithy, brilliant thoughts. ("People may laugh at me because I am different, but I laugh at them because they all are the same.") Metallica fans don't usually share Barry Manilow YouTube videos in the spirit of appreciation. Vegetarians: how about those pork barbecue recipes? The same with blogs — you would not have read this far had you not found yourself nodding in agreement with something in it. Social media is not the tools with which we seek opposing viewpoints.

Pinterest has it right: post/share/tweet/pin the stuff that you like and leave the rest to someone else.

I release Victoria and Hitler — and, while I'm at it, Coco. I'll spend my time pining a Despicable Me 2 trailer (or two, including the one with the cat because I think that's the Law of the Internet). Thanks for reading (and nodding). And if you disagree, just move along.

Fun Friday: A Better Person

Waking Up On the Wrong Side of Dawn

I've been up and about on weekday mornings before 6 a.m. — and may I say I hate it?

Wait, maybe "hate" is too strong a word... Nope. I hate it.

I am not, and never have been, a morning person. Let me stay up long into the night, all night, every night. I can burn the midnight oil forever — as long as I can sleep in to make up for it with the proper amount of sleep. What, work until 2 a.m.? Will do! When that "work day" is done, I settle into the quiet of late night and drop off to sleep. I'm up eight hours later, fresh as a daisy, raring to go.

Yet, unless you're a night watchman or bartender, this schedule isn't a regular option.

My husband David works in an industry that embraces Benjamin Franklin's idea of "early to bed, early to rise." For some reason, waking up before dawn is presented as virtuous (as opposed to, say, insane). I bought into it, too, when I was a younger runner: if I ran before the day started, I didn't have to fit it in. As a "get it done" philosophy, it still works.

So, can it work for [fill in the blank]?

For me, that is [reading, writing and social media], which means early morning hours on the computer.

At first, however, it was to meet some deadlines for work. I told myself if I worked in bed, it wouldn't be so bad. (That phrase sounded better in my head.) Anyway, I tried it — and you know what? It wasn't so bad. Oh, the "work" part was challenging, as was the "5 in the morning" part. However, I found a way to make it work: tucked under the covers so the cat could doze on my chest or legs, a cup of joe at my side, a little quiet to focus... it was doable.

Once the push at work was over (for the time being), I decided to try it for myself.

A couple of weeks into The Great Experiment, I can declare it, for the most part, a success. I still have to control my personal social media use — ooh, cute cat photo! funny book poster! — but that's evolving, too, as I learn to focus on the task at hand. I'm still a slow starter, so I "lose" the first bit of the morning. But I can live with that.

Now, the big challenge is getting to bed "on time" to grab my eight hours. (Adults seem to think only youngsters should get to bed early enough to function well. Crazy.) I'll figure it out — or fall on my face trying.

What would you do with an extra hour or two in the day?

Poetry Wednesday: Fiction

Fiction

Going south, we watched spring
unroll like a proper novel:
forsythia, dogwood, rose;
bare trees, green lace, full shade.
By the time we arrived in Georgia
the complications were deep.

When we drove back, we read
from back to front. Maroon went wild,
went scarlet, burned once more
and then withdrew into pink,
tentative, still in bud.
I thought if only we could go on
and meet again, shy as strangers. 

by Lisel Mueller
from Alive Together. © Louisiana State University Press, 1996. 
Courtesy The Writer's Almanac

Happy Spring! Celebrate by sharing a poem with me in honor of National Poetry Month, which is right around the corner. You could earn yourself a free book of poetry!

Notoriously Successful — But Now What?

You know what it's like when you simply must read a particular book, but you can't get a hold of it? So you grab one like it, hoping it will stick — but it's not right? I went through that last week. It took a few books, but I persevered.

I wanted Fluff 'n Trash™— but only a certain book. I wanted Notorious Nineteen by Janet Evanovich. I wanted it bad.

Alas, I didn't have it.

After stopping reading nearly everything on my nightstand, I took action: I went for Plum. I looked in two libraries and three thrift shops. I even went to Barnes and Noble. No Nineteen to be found. I was Stephanie Plum-less. I have two other Evanoviches of the Wicked kind, but I didn't want those. I wanted Stephanie.

I put my name on the "hold" list at the library for both the printed and e-versions of the book. I was somewhere around number 521 on the list of one or either. Seems this is a popular book. Who knew?

I could have ordered it on the Web, had it delivered to me. And yet... I didn't want to keep it. I have one copy of her books, a signed hardback of Smokin' Seventeen, that is in someone's hands  — I loaned it out, but can't remember to whom, if it's you, be kind and careful! — but, for the most part, I don't want to keep them. I don't want to own them. I want to read them and pass them on. They're my Library Book Book. Had the library not owned a copy, I'd have purchased one for the system. But they did. Multiple copies. Just none of them for me.

I had a while to wait, so I tried everything on my nightstand. Nothing stuck. (I mean, Wolf Hall? Definitely not the same thing, although Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter would have done the trick had I been in that mood. Same with Map of the Sky.)

I took to reading children's books, tasty little nuggets, as appetizers. (Neil Gaiman writes lovely children's books, did  you know? Delicious morsels, never treakly. Try The Dangerous Alphabet. Or Blueberry Girl — okay, that one is a little sentimental and sweet, but still good. Lesson learned: look to Neil Gaiman — always.) Then there was Penny Vincenzi's An Outrageous Affair, but it didn't stick. When has Penny Vincenzi not fulfilled that need? This was serious!

Then I stopped by the library to drop off a document for work (sometimes my job rocks!) and passed the "Hot Books" shelves. I thought to myself, "Self, what are the chances it's there?" My eyes skimmed the shelves until I saw the Evanovich Neon Orange. It was mine.

I devoured it in a couple of days. It went back to the library this past weekend so the next reader can find it at the right moment.

Now we can return to the regularly programmed schedule of My Nightstand Collection. Take a look at my list at the left: which should I start next? I'm leaning toward Map of the Sky, but I may be able to be persuaded otherwise.) Maybe a little Hangman's Daughter? Give me your suggestions!

Fun Friday: I'll Take Your OCD and Raise You

Hey, Poetry Lover: Share 'em!

from Poetry in Motion (PIM)

Hey, Poetry Lover!

Yes, I mean you. 

Just the other day, you came across that poem that surprised you, touched you, made you think. You might not have even meant to read poetry, but there it was, and there you were — moved.

You wanted to remember it, share it, make sure others could feel that same way. 
Maybe you clipped it out to stick in your wallet, used it as a bookmark, stuck it on the fridge, pinned it to Pinterest.

Maybe it was a song lyric, and you've bookmarked that video so you can watch it over and over.

Now do one more thing with that wonderful poem: share it with me.

I am always looking for great poems to share (and not just for National Poetry Month in April!). Yours could be the one that changes a life, changes a mind, changes an attitude — like it did with you.

I don't have to tell people the poem came from you, especially if you have a rep you want to uphold. (We all do.) 

Plus, you never know if your poem donation will come with a reward. I've been known to share poetry books, from time to time, with other poetry lovers. 

So, send me those poems that got under your skin. You and I both will be glad you did.

  

Poetry Wednesday: Barter

Barter

Life has loveliness to sell,

All beautiful and splendid things,

Blue waves whitened on a cliff,

Soaring fire that sways and sings,

And children's faces looking up,

Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,

Music like a curve of gold,

Scent of pine trees in the rain,

Eyes that love you, arms that hold,

And for your spirit's still delight,

Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,

Buy it and never count the cost;

For one white singing hour of peace

Count many a year of strife well lost,

And for a breath of ecstasy,

Give all you have been, or could be.

by Sara Teasdale

Thanks to Karen for sharing!

Library Loot — All E!

Lately my e-book borrowing has exploded. I blame it on Cracked.

Remember when Oprah Winfrey gave away cars on her TV show? So do Karl Smallwood and Mohammed Shariff, who wrote the article "5 Depressing Realities Behind Reality Shows." They link to the page in Kitty Kelley's biography Oprah in which Oprah is quoted.

That got me thinking: when was the last time I read unadulterated junk food? Kitty Kelley counted. So I borrowed.

I managed to read about 20 percent of the book before I had to stop. I didn't think it was very good; I've read better Kitty Kelley. Also, a little Oprah goes a long way.


I also found the most recent edition of one of my favorite tourism books: Washington on Foot. I love walking, and walking tours are fun and leisurely.

Kitty didn't quell my Fluff 'n Trash™ craving. I still was cruising libraries and used book stores for Notorious Nineteen. I missed it at the nearby regional library yet again before I realized I could see if I could get in line electronically. I can, and I did.

However, while I wait, I am reading one of the most exquisite books: Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar. I discovered it thanks to Brain Pickings (which you simply must subscribe to — and consider supporting). I have to limit the amount of time I spend reading at night or I won't sleep. Ever. Author Cheryl Strayed is a compassionate person and a generous writer. I'll tell you more about it after I've finished it. In the meantime, I'm grateful my library had it for me to download.

Another great thing about Brain Pickings? Every book available from the public library includes the parenthetical description "(public library)." Sweet.

I have requested a few other books, print and e-, from my library. I'll keep you abreast as they come in and I consume them.

What have you borrowed from your library lately? I'm curious!

Fun Friday: Don't Stumble

Poetry Wednesday: Cat

Courtesy of The Cat is on the Table

How I Order Dinner on National Grammar Day and Beyond

Happy National Grammar Day! Here's a chuckle my husband David will tell you hits very, very close to the mark for me.

Failing 'A Month of Letters'

I have come to terms with my failure.

Which is a lie — because if I was okay with it, I wouldn't mention it. Still whistling past the graveyard on this one.

Look, I knew A Month of Letters was going to be a challenge. I knew at least a week of my time was going to be spoken for. However, I though, "Self, how hard is it to dash off an extra note or two every couple of days?"

Well, that would have been great if work hadn't exploded.

Okay, that was in part my own doing. A couple of weeks off work backs up the system. In this world, we seem to have no redundancy: if I don't [fill in the blank], then it doesn't get done. I can live with that at home; I have enough socks and underwear for a coon's age for that very reason. (The "dregs" may be dicey, but I always drive more carefully when I don those.) (Kudos if you got that reference.) But work? At work, I have only the socks and underwear I have on me. I know, everyone is in the same sad boat, blah blah blah. But it is relevant.

Then projects piled up. An extra three hours at work most days of the week will take a toll on one's letter-writing time. (I'm just sayin' is all.)

So: extra time at work means something has to give. In February, it was letter-writing. (And vacuuming.)

I didn't totally fail: 14 letters and packages were written and readied. One package still is in my car, but — see "blah blah blah" above. Hopefully that will be remedied today, Post Office willing.

However, I know at least one friend was faithful to A Month of Letters: my proof is tied up with a ribbon. It was lovely seeing a pastel pink, green or blue envelope from Karen sitting in the mailbox nearly every day.  On days there were no filled envelopes waiting for me, I have to admit I was a little sad. Some days the letters came two or three at a time. Other times I had a single card, like a single rosebud in a dainty vase, waiting for me.

I want to bring that delight to others.

I have the notecards, paper/envelopes and postage waiting for me, so I'll continue as best I can. I'll make this a More than A Month of Letters.

How about you? How did your letter-writing go? Let's share!

Fun Friday: More of a Man-Thing...