Author: Maria

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So much to catch up on!

I seem to be a little obsessed with the exclamation point! Sheesh!

I’ve used it in just about everything I’ve written in the past week. Time to wrap it up and put it away for a long time. Or until I feel like using it again.

Anyway, I’m behind. I’m behind in just about everything except work. How’s that for irony? Don’t worry, it won’t last for long since I collect some assignments tomorrow. For today, I’ll bask in the delusion that I am ahead there, too.

Still, I’m going to organize myself a little bit this afternoon, and come back later with a report of my progress. I figure, if I say I’m going to do it, then I’ll have to follow through with it, right? Hmm. Maybe.

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my vast cultural void

I was born in the wrong decade.

I have a soft spot for the 1940’s, 50’s and very early 60’s. If I could afford it, and look like a Chanel model, I’d dress like Jackie Kennedy before she added Onassis to her name.

One of my favorite scenes from the movies of that era is the cocktail party. Who has cocktail parties? I didn’t think they existed outside the movies.  

In a related thought, meeting someone for cocktails elicits the same funny response from me. In my world, I’d meet someone for coffee, or even for drinks, but I don’t think I’d ever use the term cocktail.

So when a colleague said she was meeting her husband for cocktails at six, my ears perked up and I asked her where she was going. Silly me, I just thought she used the term to mean she was going to Happy Hour at a local bar.

No.

She said that no matter what is going on in their day, the family meets at six for cocktails. They drink things like Manhattans. That they make at home!

I am astounded. And clearly living in a cultural void.

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commiserating with the Facebook newbies

The strange and happy crew that makes up my sister’s world in Miami recently migrated, en masse, to Facebook.

For a brief period of like three days, every time I logged into Facebook, I would find 2 or 3 friends requests.  And then, just as suddenly as the frenzy began, it ended. What a relief.

Anyway, shortly after that episode, it seems like every update included a public confession that Facebook is crack, and addictive, bla bla bla. You either stay overwhelmingly addicted to the monster, or you master it and check in once every day or two. I’m sorry for those of you who hate me right now for mastering it. I won’t speak of my Plurk addiction just in case your tiny little brains can’t handle the real drug. Oh yes, I am a pusher.

So in my random and often daily blog reading, I came across this blog post about the Facebook is crack addiction. Boys and girls, Bonnie speaks big truths here. It is not for the faint of heart. Read it and weep. You will see yourself in her pain. Remember that admitting the addiction is the first step towards recovery.

I owe my own recovery to the sincere and disdainful mockery and intervention of my children, who pointed out in disgust that Facebook was for college kids, and that I was gross and weird for participating. It irks them that real adults use it for business and pleasure.

To add insult to injury, they won’t even be my friends.

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