Facebook Quandaries

I need a Facebook diversion.  It's out of control.  I'm sensing a desperation on the part of several "friends".  I've decided it's not the forum.  I want to like some of these people, but when I read the despicable, pathetic vitriol that spews forth in some of these "posts", I have second thoughts...and that makes me sad, frustrated and angry.

I get having an opinion, I really do.  I get wanting it to be heard, I get being frustrated that "things aren't right in the world" and I get not liking what "the other side" is saying.  On facebook you REALLY get that last one though.  The anonymity of fb; being able to just write and post and "like" and "unlike", gives us a sense of mysterious power that a lot of us would have the common sense not to display in any other social setting.

I've decided this is the way to go...blog it.  Let's just see how many people give a hoot about your griping and complaining and anger and fist waving.  They have to go to your blog, click on your link, seek out your opinion.  That, or I need 1146 friends like my kids---no wonder they never comment on my posts.  They never see them!  When you have  a mere 209 friends and you consider that only a small portion of those are active, you see every stinkin' status update that comes along.  And, clearly, some folks are getting paid a tidy little sum at their day jobs to do not much of anything outside of web-surfing and reposting links.

I'm so tired of the partisan ranting.  My dad is a rantor.  He rants about ranting.  Most of the time I agree with him, but I'm even tired of that ranting.  I realize the why-can't-we-all-just-get-along approach is NOT going to work...ever.  Ever.  But people have really gotten out of control.  I know people who have recently posted comments so absurd that, if the tables were turned point by point in their "posts", they would be appalled that someone had the audacity to even think some of those things about them, let alone write them in a status update.  But, if they are the ones saying it, if they believe themselves to be the higher intellect, if they don't see a need for compromise, then...well...then they must simply be right.  Oh, and by the way, the rest of you who disagree are stupid, ignorant fools.  I'm sick of that.  It's not right.  And, it's not a good means to any solution, far less one they will like.

I don't think there is much of a solution here other than avoidance.  There are certain people that I know to avoid like the plague.  They are toxic.  They will fight and argue a point for the sake of doing so.  They are never wrong.  They are always more brilliant and, for all they care, you really can go take a flying leap off of a bridge somewhere.  Does that make them "bad people"--I don't know.  But I know it sure as heck makes them difficult to be around by anyone than other people just like them.

I am proud that I have a very diverse group of friends.  At least I think I do.  I have friends who are from different political parties, friends with different skin color, friends from different countries, friends of different ages and economic backgrounds and religions, country-club golfing friends and camping in the woods fishing friends.  Are these all uber close see-all-the-time friends?  No.  But I consider them friends and I would stop to talk to them in Walmart or Talbots, Arby's or Mahogany's (ok, not in Mahogany's because I just can't force myself to pay that much for a steak that my husband can cook just as well in our backyard...how 'bout Fusco's?)  Anyhow, my point is this: If I find out the world is coming to an end tomorrow, I sure hope that I can surround myself with people with different ideas, suggestions and beliefs.  Because if I can't--I'm at a real loss as to any additional viable, thought-provoking, helpful solutions other than my own.

Now my ideas may be better in some instances.  But maybe there are better solutions elsewhere for other instances.  I have a set of values and morals that I would never waiver from.  I believe in God and I have faith in what my church teaches.  Those would always be guidelines I would base my decisions on.  But assuming that someone outside my "circle" doesn't have something of value to offer, or is ignorant because of their stated beliefs does nothing but short change me in the long run.  There will be people with little to offer, and there will be those who are ignorant...both outside and inside my little circle.

It's when we become that person within our own circle that we've really lost touch.  I'm seeing a lot of that and it makes me terribly sad.  So, I'm giving everyone a break from my own spewing. I'll spew to myself, because that's really what that little "status update" is about...and often times it combines itself with quite a bit of pot-stirring.  But in my own blog I can post my little opinion and then, if you so choose, you can go to the trouble of clicking on it, reading it all and commenting...or not.  No harm, no foul.  And, if you don't have more than 209 friends like me, then you don't have to see, read or think about any of my angry, condescending, ignorant, insensitive, thoughtless, cruel, opinionated opinions.

You can thank me later.

#19-Final Thoughts-Part A

This is a tough one. Seriously it is. It could be touching, maddening, terribly hysterical or downright embarrassing. That's why the rest of the title was "....what those thoughts say about you as a human and do you really want to know".

I'm going with the second part first. Yes. Yes, I can honestly say, I DO really want to know. Of course I will certainly be crushed to find out that a few people (surely not many, right?) saw me as a selfish, mindless, lazy, wasted bag of flesh--lots of flesh--that only thought about her own needs and the stuff she wanted. Hopefully, there are also a few who would disagree with the former view. (ah-hem...kids, to whom I was sliced open to give you birth from somewhere deep inside my body never to have those muscles again...)

BUT--the "Final Thoughts" part can be interpreted two ways. #1-Final Thoughts others have about you upon your death, or #2-Your own Final Thoughts at the moment you die. #2 will have to be considered in Final Thoughts Part B, for another post. For now, I'm considering Part A...what on earth will they say??

I find it interesting how we all think of our "final times". Coincidentally, our priest gave a homily on this very thing just last Sunday. He talked about death and dying and how you really don't ever know when your time is up, clock stops, Father Time comes knockin' at your door, so it is imperative that we not be screwing up too terribly bad at that point. What's funny is that I tend to think of myself as the same person dead as I think of myself alive. For example: Look back at that second paragraph...I wrote, "....I will certainly be crushed to find out..." like once I croak I'm going to be looming about to see and hear what everyone's got to say about me. "Hey, Hey you guys down there...let's get on with the show". But I've never thought about when the show is over. What happens if I do know what's going on and then suddenly people just begin to disperse and move on. They go on with their lives. They aren't going to talk about me that much, so I'm going to have to know what they are thinking about me when they think it. That's going to be a little bit sad I think.

I think about that too. For some reason I talk to my mother-in-law a lot. And I talk to her out loud a lot...probably more than any other deceased person I know, or, in this case, have known. I think I do it because I wish she was still here. I wish I could call her up and tell her, "Maryann, do you know what (my) kid so-and-so did now..." I know she would know exactly what to say. She had nine kids, for pete's sake! I can see her smiling ever so slightly and nodding her head with that twinkle in her eye that quietly indicated that she was bursting out laughing on the inside at all the stupid stuff I had thought or said or did as a parent. Anyhow, I think about people I've known who have died and I almost always think of them in a positive light. So, I wonder if Maryann knows that I think about her a bunch. I wonder if she hears me talk out loud to her and I wonder if I'm going to know or hear people's words and thoughts when I'm dead?-much later on down the road, of course.

Maybe that's what happens when you die. Maybe all of the sudden people don't remember all the crummy stuff you did because you are gone and those crummy things aren't as comforting to those you left behind as the good things. Or maybe positive stuff really does over power the negative stuff. Or maybe people just feel guilty for thinking a bad thing about a person who has died. But what about the people I've know who have been crummy, or what about the people I know now that are really crummy? I can't say that I've known too many really crummy people who have died already. I know some who made some really crummy choices and did some really crummy stuff that resulted in them being really dead so maybe that's the same thing. But it's interesting to take note as to whether or not we are thought of crumm-ily by those we leave behind, if, in fact, we really were a crummy person... I think the best remedy for that is for me to try to not be a really crummy person from here on out.

So, what are people going to say about me when I die? I don't have a clue. I know what I'd like for them to say. I know what I would hope they say, but who knows what they will say. People are a little funny about this too. I know my husband is. It's like he thinks it's almost "rude" to wonder about that--as if I'm overstepping my boundaries or being presumptuous. I've tried to explain that's it's more of a curiosity than anything. It's not like I'm writing out my eulogy and making someone pinky blood swear that THIS is the EXACT thing they will read at my service. I'll be honest in saying I have written a "eulogy" of sorts for a person or two, pre-death...wayyyy pre-death. I know it sounds a bit peculiar, but it's somewhat cathartic. It's a great way of getting down on paper and not forgetting what your thoughts are about a certain person and their connection to your life. Now wouldn't that be nice to know for yourself? Now. Before you pass away? Ask a friend today. See what kind of look you get.

There's another thing---the whole death and dying terminology. Do you have any idea how many people I know who think it is in bad taste to use the word "die" when someone...well..."dies". I find it hard to use anything but "that" word. But it is treated somewhat like He Who Must Not Be Named in the Harry Potter movies. Death, dying, die--that is what we do as mortal humans. I'm not sure what people mean when they say "pass on". I understand the life-after-death concept and I have great faith in that. But what if they don't pass on? Or what if it's a while before they get to the passing on part? And, where exactly does everyone who use this phrase, think the deceased is passing to? I am reminded that we are not the arbitrators of that gig. Not to mention why those who don't even believe in God or life with God, far less an after-life with or without Him may use this phrase. So, there is "passing on" and then there is the older, more simplified version where someone has simply "passed". There is also "passed away" which is very similar to "passing on", but a bit more terse--as if there is a definite finality in never running into each other, ever again. Like the difference between "Shirley has gone on..." and "Shirley has gone away". With the second, you are quite certain you will not be seeing Shirley for a very long time, if ever. The first leaves you feeling that Shirley has simply meandered her way elsewhere and you may run into her again soon.

And then there is "lost". This is my very, very least favorite. That is, if one can have a favorite or least favorite term regarding this topic. I think there should be an enforceable rule that "lost" should always, without exception, refer to a child missing in the woods somewhere...or a football or soccer game. But, "...they 'lost' Jim yesterday..." ugh. Jim is NOT lost. In fact, Jim is anything but lost. Jim now has to be transported, and then attended to in whatever way the family has deemed necessary. Someone is having to do that with and for Jim and I bet you a Diet Dr. Pepper they too would disagree that Jim was "lost". And "lost", very much conflicts with "passing on". "Lost" has a connotation of "Jim doesn't know what to do, where to go or how to get outta here now". It is very possible that Jim has always been a little air-heady like that, but Jim is dead now and I like to believe there is a definitive systematic method for soul removal, even if it's being shuffled somehow to Gate #4 for those "not sure yet", or being shuffled somehow directly to Gate #666 for those who were clearly crappy folks all along or a gentle shuffle and nudge on to Gate #9 3/4, for those who have always been headed to the "good place". A "lost" soul, still needs a place to go I think.

But I digress a bit with terminology. The point is what do the things people have to say about you after you are gone, say about you as a person. Maya Angelou said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel". I think that's nice. I hope that's true. And it would fall in line along with the aforementioned "crappy" person too--probably didn't make us feel so great, so we'd have less than great memories of that person. But, I think most of the people I know are kind, decent human beings who do make me feel nice, make me laugh, make me think, make me feel special and I bet that's how and what I would remember about them if they were to die. I sure hope I've made people feel nice.

I started this list of 20 brain storming notions as a result of my own Event, as my dear friend has coined it. So, I have that as a point of personal reference. Ironically, the morning of the first initial surgery, while my husband was driving me to the hospital, I told him, "you know what I want if something happens, right?" "What are you talking about?" "You know...if I croak or something" "What do you mean 'what you want'? You won't be here". "Well I think you underestimate my ability to make your life miserable even in my own afterlife" "True. What do you want". "Well the first thing I want is that I don't want anyone to see me dead. No open casket thing. No finding clothes or doing makeup or hair to make me look nice. I want to be cremated. And I want to be put in a pretty little pottery vase and placed in a nice quiet place of worship that is spa-like. I'd like it to smell like lavender. And a nice meaningful service and then a bang-up party. And make sure that everyone has a drink, a toast of sorts. And then give all my scrapbook stuff to Teresa. Don't let the kids toss everything right now. It may mean something to one of them later" Yep, I got all that in from 101st & Sheridan to 71st & Hwy. 75. It's a long drive, but he listened, so that was good.

But, the next day, while I was desperately trying to hold on to life's last breath, literally, I thought about my family in a different way. I hoped my husband would be sad--I mean, you know...he'd miss me for something more than the fact that I keep his underwear drawer fairly tidy, not to mention filled with super duper clean underwear. I don't ever want someone to be sad, but I kept thinking that I'd hoped I'd done enough. More than the underwear and the dishes and the taxi service and the crummy meals. Enough to make my family feel happy about me and think of me in that positive light that I do my mother-in-law. What's funny is since I didn't die, I got to hear some of the things they were thinking. They were personal, but the one that surprised me the most was that they thought how sad it was that I'd never see or know my grand-children. You know what that means? That means that I may have grandchildren one day and I hadn't even thought about those things during my Event. But they had. They knew how much I loved being with people and family and friends. And that made them feel sad for me and for themselves.

People have told me they were glad I didn't die. I'm glad they were glad. That made me feel nice. I was glad too. Of course, for you who haven't mentioned that to me, don't worry that I'm sitting around making a list of who was glad I didn't die and who wasn't. I'm not. I just think it's an eye-opener of sorts. To almost maybe sort of die and then not--it makes you and the people around you think about all the "what if's". And it makes you wonder about the "would've's". I want people to say nice things about me when I pack 'er in, hang it up, kick the bucket. I want to be missed. And, after listening to my priest this past week, I want my family to grieve...that is, when the time comes for real.

Until then, I want to remember the do-over I get so that when the time comes that I am hovering around all of you and watching and listening to all of your comments I won't be crushed to find out that I blew it--not once, but twice.

Eight Weeks Ago

Eight weeks ago today I was not sitting at a computer.

Eight weeks ago today I was in a dark hospital room.

Eight weeks ago today I was not listening to the rustling of my daughters homework papers.

Eight weeks ago today I could not turn off medical equipment or stop the sounds of patients moaning.

Eight weeks ago today I was not in fresh cozy clean flannel pj's.

Eight weeks ago today I was wrapped in a bloody thin hospital gown and bulky flannel blankets.

Eight weeks ago today I was not capable of being left alone to take care of myself or my child.

Eight weeks ago today I could not raise my arms to hug my kids or my husband.

Eight weeks ago today I was not able to visit with my mom for two hours.

Eight weeks ago today I was desperately trying to communicate through heavy sedation.

Eight weeks ago today I could not stand outside in the misty air and let the leaves fall down around me as I looked up into the colorful trees in my yard.

Eight weeks ago today I could not tell anyone there was a tiny cord wrapped around my right pinky finger that kept my wrist from even the smallest motion possible.

Eight weeks ago today I could not make a phone call and have a meaningful conversation with a friend.

Eight weeks ago today I was trying to convey that my feet were cold, not something about a dog.

Eight weeks ago today I could not take a deep breath and feel air rush into my lungs.

Eight weeks ago today I could not make a single noise or feel my own breathing because there was a tube down my throat.

Eight weeks ago today I could not make my bed.

Eight weeks ago today I could not see over the side of giant bed rails and tubes.

Eight weeks ago today I could not eat or drink or shower.

Eight weeks ago today I did not even think to eat or drink or shower.

Eight weeks ago today I was not there for my daughter to come put a paper in front of my face and say, "see---30 out of 30 on my vocab quiz mom"

Eight weeks ago today I did not want my daughter to see me.

Eight weeks ago today I could not plan a big family steak dinner for the upcoming weekend.

Eight weeks ago today I could not talk to my family without pen and clipboard being held by my side.

Eight weeks ago today I could not go shop for our new Christmas tree.

Eight weeks ago today I did not know when I would be able to walk outside.

Eight weeks ago today I didn't know I'd be doing simple things today that would make me think about

eight weeks ago today.