When Joy is Squelched by Facebook Reality

I sat in my office this afternoon, searching my mind for a positive note on which to end my workday. (It had been that kind of day.)

Amidst the paper, humming electronics and chaos of my corner of Paradise, I saw a photo of my family on my bookshelf, which was taken a few years ago. (I need to update that.) I focused on that, and found my happy place: two of my three kids are still on my health insurance, thanks to health care reform.

While they try to find their way in this world, I can give them the health insurance that takes care of their wisdom teeth, strep throat and (hopefully) preventative care that may be considered more of a luxury in the early, lower-paying years of a career.

Frankly, I think it's brilliant.

It wasn't even a very controversial element of the Affordable Health Care for America Act, if I remember correctly: allowing adult children to remain on a parent's insurance for a period past college was a no-brainer.

I thought it would be a great thought to share with friends on Facebook, a bright spot in my day that may bring them a little happiness, too.

Then, I woke up from my daydream: Facebook is no place to put happy thoughts.

Social media has become a desert of disagreement and debate. If I post anything and, say, Sally disagrees, rarely will she only shake her head ruefully at my "stupidity." Now she can correct me. In public. On my "wall."

For many, the wake-up call was the 2012 election, which turned social media into a toxic well of hate and derision. Among my friends, those who normally kept their opinions to themselves finally "allowed" a flash of heat so great my computer screen was singed. I saw words that shouldn't have been used in civil discourse emanating from posts of people who otherwise were the epitome of civility.

I was not guiltless. I shared pictures and articles that reflected my ideas as well. I didn't argue with people on their wall, but I would share evidence to dispute an error ("Guys, AP clearly states the President declared war on Kentucky, not Wyoming," for example).

The schism has not healed in the intervening years. I still hide plenty of angry posts about politics and religion. However, I'm doing my part when it comes to civility: I stick to photos of books, cute kids and cuddly animals. From time to time, I throw in a few stronger themed pictures and posts, usually centered around violence against women (for the record, I am against it). If someone decides to start a debate, they're on their own.

So, I was cheered in my otherwise drab workday with the thought of my family's benefit from HR 3962, and I wanted to share the joy. I thought about writing a brief note on Facebook, "I can still provide health care to two of my three children, and I'm grateful for health care reform that allowed that."

After an unpleasant Flashback to 2012, I thought about including a cautionary phrase akin to "This is not an invitation to debate, argue or otherwise vent." And that made me both cranky and sad, that I'd have to tell my perfectly nice friends and acquaintances that I was allowed to express myself without their input.

Then, light bulb: that is what social media has become. It's like stepping into a busy street and hoping you don't get run over right away. Oh, you may have to dodge a bike messenger or a texting driver — but if you're careful, you'll make it across the street alive.

So, I deleted my words and I closed my browser.

Silence is golden.

Taking a Break, Coming Back Stronger

Biddy, the traveling hedgehog

Ladies and gents, as much fun as this is, this hedgehog lover needs a vacation.

With Biddy as an inspiration, I'll depart from this keyboard to relax and rejuvenate.

While I'm off, feel free to peruse a few past blog entries, watch a couple of my favorite videos (listed at right) or explore this page at your leisure.

See you back here after Labor Day!

Poetry Wednesday: Cookie Monster, Poet

Cookie Monster, via Sesame Street, tweeted the following poem:

This is just to say
Me have eaten 
the cookies 
that were in the cookie jar

and which 
you were probably 
saving 
for snack time

Forgive me 
they were so delicious 
and om nom nom

Me love poetry... and cookies!


You may recognize its inspiration: "This is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams.

I have eaten

 the plums

 that were in the icebox

 and which

you were probably

saving 

for breakfast 

 Forgive me 

they were delicious

 so sweet 

and so cold

Thanks, Cookie Monster!

Night Reading and E-Books: Making an Important Decision

I am a fan of the electronic reader. I keep my Kindle with me at all times — one never knows when the need to read shall arise. A quiet lunch? A visit to the doctor's office? Unexpected downtime? All those and more translate into extra reading time, and I am glad I have my choice of books.

I also keep my magazines on it so I'm never without a New Yorker. (Hey, I've got to be prepared for every contingency.)

However, there's a limit to how I will use an e-book.

Now, I didn't understand my limitations until recently, more than a year after I started loading my Kindle — and, now, my iPad (thank you, Kindle Reader app!).

My limitation is simple, but clear: I will not take my Kindle to bed.

Oh, I may work like a demon on my computer until 2 am and I may Pinterest or BuzzFeed on my iPad until way later than I should; I am, after all, only human (despite evidence to the contrary).  Electronics are valuable. However, I always shut off the electronics when I climb between the covers.

Well, now. I must admit, I haven't always made that decision. Until recently, I had no issue with perusing my Kindle or iPad before picking up my book.

Then I realized I couldn't fall asleep.

There is evidence that the light from tablets suppresses melatonin, which can throw off a person's circadian rhythm.

That's science. Here's my own evidence: I don't fall asleep easily or quickly after using electronics with a screen. It takes me an hour or more after computer time before I  am ready to fall asleep.

Don't get me wrong: I am tired. I am weary. I am ready for the day to end. I want to fall asleep. I cannot, however, do that in front of a screen. To be fair, I cannot do it in front of a television, either: I can count on one hand the number of times I have fallen asleep while watching television. The screen hypnotizes me and keeps me awake long after my body is ready for bed.

The same, apparently, applies to tablet reading.

I will always carry and use paper books — not for the smell or heft, not for the comfort, not for the vast collection (sometimes exclusively) available in print. I don't do it because I don't want to battle for a plug in a hospital waiting room or bagel shop. I do it because I don't want to be tethered to a power source or to let the zombies know where I am at night, behind the glowing screen.

I will do it because until they build a "mousetrap" that lets this difficult sleeper fall asleep easily, I won't make my life any harder. E-books have their place — just not in my bed.

Fun Friday: A Wicked Lineup

Poetry Wednesday: Buddhist New Year Song

Buddhist New Year Song

I saw you in green velvet, wide full sleeves

seated in front of a fireplace, our house

made somehow more gracious, and you said

“There are stars in your hair”— it was truth I

brought down with me

to this sullen and dingy place that we must make golden

make precious and mythical somehow, it is our nature,

and it is truth, that we came here, I told you,

from other planets

where we were lords, we were sent here,

for some purpose

the golden mask I had seen before, that fitted

so beautifully over your face, did not return

nor did that face of a bull you had acquired

amid northern peoples, nomads, the Gobi desert

I did not see those tents again, nor the wagons

infinitely slow on the infinitely windy plains,

so cold, every star in the sky was a different color

the sky itself a tangled tapestry, glowing

but almost, I could see the planet from which we had come

I could not remember (then) what our purpose was

but remembered the name Mahakala, in the dawn

in the dawn confronted Shiva, the cold light

revealed the “mindborn” worlds, as simply that,

I watched them propagated, flowing out,

or, more simply, one mirror reflecting another.

then broke the mirrors, you were no longer in sight

nor any purpose, stared at this new blackness

the mindborn worlds fled, and the mind turned off:

a madness, or a beginning?

By Diane di Prima

From Pieces of a Song

Courtesy Poetry Foundation

Fun Friday: One at a Time