Hate-Memes and Hiding Friends 2/21/14

Life is a contest, right? Who makes the most, has the most loving family, looks the best, drives the best, chooses the most "in" entertainment, restaurants, activities....all a competition.  We brag, we share "neat" things we did, we applaud our friends and family on social networking, we sometimes talk in mysterious code, acronyms, specialized terms from our new activity - just so we look like we are the best.

Everyone wants to be the smartest, too.  Just invent an app that is an IQ test and gives great results; the average person can score a '160' on your scale.  You'll make your million by shares on social networking, because everybody wants to be a genius.  Make people feel smart and you will win.  

Social networking also lends itself to the sharing of beliefs.  It's a rare person that does not have their 'religion' listed as something.  It's a rare person that doesn't every now and then thank some entity or another for a wonderful event, or request prayer for difficult times.  The thing is; as we compete to be the best, and strongly state our beliefs, some start tearing down others.  It is not enough for some folks these days to post positive things about what they believe, they must tear down and disprove any opposing beliefs. Many choose to do so with the ready-made worded photos that sometimes have a link to a ranting, one-sided news story.  I call these "hate memes".   Hate memes sprinkle my social network page with regularity.  I know, you believe in your cause, you believe you're right and you're out to set everybody else straight.  Only guess what?  It doesn't work.  Most people ignore them.  The ones that 'like' them, or comment on them either completely agree with you, or are looking for a good argument....but never to change their mind.  Maybe there is some alternate group of friends that discuss things thoughtfully and weigh the evidence of what others believe against their own beliefs carefully.........nah.

I have actually hidden a few of my more common "hate-meme" posting friends from my news feed.  I didn't un-friend them, I like them as people. They don't know I've hidden them, so there are no repercussions.  I just don't enjoy knowing how much you hate this politico or that.  I'm secure in my personal beliefs and will gladly enjoy what you have to share;  (as long as you don't call other's beliefs stupid) recipes, favorite old song videos, and quizzes (see, my preferences may annoy you!)  It's fun sometimes to spend an hour or two on Facebook - and post several links to things you enjoy.  Others may get tired of my Peter Frampton videos, pictures of my pets, bragging about my choir and especially those pesky blog posts.  I get it - everyone is free to look or not look.  Also - free to hide or not hide - a great Facebook feature that keeps feelings from being hurt.

My main concern, though, comes with those that have started to interact on a personal basis as if they are personifying a hate-meme.  I have seen people tell each other they are idiots, they don't know anything, they don't deserve an answer.....all sorts of rude things.  I honestly think that if your goal is to look intelligent enough to prove that your beliefs are much better than someone else's (because, after all, you are smarter...) then you need to be told that you are painting yourself into the dunce's corner every time you belittle or hurt someone else.  I suppose I'm throwing out a Rodney King-type plea here "Can't we all just get along?" - and it won't ever happen because humans want to be the best.  I just wanted to say, though, you don't win if you're mean.  The Internet makes it a lot easier to be mean, and too many have fallen into that trap.  So, take your 180 IQ that the Facebook test says you have and use it to be humble, informed and positive about your own beliefs.  Quit being mean just because you're only sitting at a keyboard or using a phone and none of those people out there seem real.  You won't win.

I've Had Enough. (The one you have to look to find because I tell the truth) 11/5/13

I've had enough of some people.  Stop.  Just stop.  Don't tell me how to find a man.  It will be six months in a couple of days, and my heart still thinks he'll walk through the door.  There are so many things for him to do.  How am I supposed to know how to contact his Norwegian accountant, much less pay Norwegian taxes?  I can see it now - little Norway police arriving at my school, asking for me and arresting me, even though I don't have a dragon tattoo!  How much is 629 in Norwegian, anyway?

Work gets in the way.  Yes, I've said in other posts that it's my salvation, but sometimes, it feels as it I'm back in the music building.  You know, posing as a music major.  I always felt that way, because I didn't have that "Ahhhhh!" attitude about all the classical music stuff.  I would rather be out eating pizza or kissing on my boyfriend than practicing until 1 a.m.  For that I was weird?  These days, there are the 1 a.m. people in elementary school.  Okay, maybe 7 p.m.  But I don't share that desire.  That building gets me - all of me - wholeheartedly - (well, I fake that occasionally) - from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.  After that, I'm not the music teacher anymore.  I'm back to being me.  The widow.  The single mom.  The caretaker of the house/pets/accounts/vehicles/pool/you-name-it-I'm-in-charge-of-it.  When I need to locate four particular papers for the accountant, two more for the lawyer, and do a couple of hours of homework for the financial planner, I really feel as if work needs to go away.  Is there such thing as widow's leave?  There needs to be, and it needs to be the type of  leave that can be spread out for when you need it most. 

I rant here, and I want attention here.  I write because I want people to read this and understand (which you do) and give me an encouraging comment (which you do).  I am an attention hog with a blog.  Please don't hate me.  Let me down gently.  At six months of grief, that will be the only gentle thing that happens.  Life moves on, and I'm expected to move with it.  And I have.  At a limp.  If you know me, you see it.  If you don't know me, I look "so strong".  Hell, what else am I supposed to do, stay under the covers for days on end?  I wish.  I wish my personality allowed me to be a bit more of a delicate flower.  Unfortunately, I am not. I would control everything if I could.  Only if I physically can't or get absolutely shut down do I not exercise control over a situation.  Man, oh man, did death laugh at me.  I shouted at it, cried to it, and have sulked behind it for all these months.  I don't like you, death. 

I don't like a lot of things right now, and one of those things is people that "do it wrong".  Thank goodness, there are only a few of those around me, probably because I keep my shield up almost all the time.  There I go again, being positive behind a negative, because I can't group punish!  Not everybody is bad!  I just want to say, bad ones: just shut up.  I'm done with you.  I will leave the room or I will say "Not talking about that right now, thanks".  Or just: (my favorite from England) "Can't".  It must be said with a British accent, though.  And if I do that, some American might not even know what I'm saying, or might think it's naughty.

If you found this post, know that I'm done. This is hard.  I've had to learn a new way of defending myself.  Until the insensitive idiots out there can stop, maybe learn, maybe change their demeanor; or at least until they shut up......my armor is on, but I'm now armed, and I might stick it to you a time or two.  Someone should.

If I Could Return This, Please - Another View of Grief 8/2/13

I'd like to return this item, please.  A couple of months ago, I was given this device.  It works by randomly shaking up my emotions and super-intensifying the one it lands on.  I have always been fairly happy and even-tempered with the occasional flare-up of anger or sadness.  It's a smooth path in life, and quite enjoyable.  I did not give it up willingly.  This device, this "grief magnometer", has taken over my thoughts, feelings, opinions, and actions.  It's a dictator with one agenda; to keep me feeling the opposite of how I used to.

Let's talk about sadness.  I have always cried at commercials, animal stories, my own and my family's hurt feelings, and especially when tragedy happened in other families.  It rarely cut me inside with knives like the sadness from the grief magnometer.  This device knows how to read when I am performing a simple task, like putting on makeup, washing dishes, starting the car....and then it attacks.  It uses triggers that I didn't even know existed to bring on the memories, followed by the trembling lip and tears rolling from the eyes.  If I could change the setting, I would have it schedule an appropriate time for sadness and a good cry, then I could carry on with the day.  (Holly Hunter did that brilliantly in a scene from "Broadcast News", by the way.  Check it out.)

The magnometer also knows how to scare me.  I am sensible and smart.  I have made plans to live without my husband's salary.  He loved us so much, and left us in good shape for the future.  But this crazy grief-device unleashes feelings of being afraid if we happen to spend thirty-five dollars on something, or if one of the cars makes a funny noise, or I see a bit of peeling paint out on the porch.  I usually take charge and fix things - fix them myself if I can.  But this new feelings device forces me to sit, stare, shake, cry a bit, (whine a bit) and even talk of giving up.  Thank goodness for family and friends that talk me through these situations and encourage me to be my old self and handle them.  This device is just plain old mean!

Speaking of mean.....that is one word that has never really described me.  I'm sure I had my moments as a young person, but as an adult, I think that I've only been considered to be a 'nice' person.  I like to joke when a new student comes in at the middle of the school year by introducing myself and saying loudly  "......and I'm the meanest teacher here!"  Of course, all the other little ones start saying "No, you're the nicest!"  "You're not mean!"  (If you're insecure, or an attention-hog, I highly recommend being a good elementary music teacher.)  I try to ALWAYS be nice to people.  So, mean feelings surprise me.  Feeling mean is different from feeling angry.  Feeling mean is strange.  The grief magnometer sometimes likes to shake things up and make me feel mean when people are trying to help me.  Not good friends, but people that I might have to call, or have an appointment with - people that have my best interests in mind!  I sit on the phone with them, or drive to my appointment, thinking mean thoughts about them, and concocting mean things I can do to them.  Feeling this way is so unlike me.  This is the main emotion shake-up that makes me so angry.

Oh, anger!!  When I was in college, my roommate took a class called "Death and Dying".  She would share portions of what they learned - it was such a foreign concept to college kids!  They memorized the stages of grief as set forth by Elizabeth Kubler Ross.  I remember Maria telling me the stages, they were novel and interesting at the time.  I understood all of them except anger.  I mean, yes, "you can be angry that someone is gone, but aren't you more sad?" I thought.  My twenty-year-old self thought that.  My present self knows that the anger is the quickest emotion to flare in my state of grief.  Everything triggers anger, because it doesn't matter if the feeling is good or bad to start with, the anger comes around in the form of "Why aren't you here to share this beautiful thing/help me with this difficult thing?" I'm angry at fate, I'm angry at him, I'm angry at the life insurance company, I'm angry at my financial advisor, I'm angry at anyone that expresses a different opinion, I'm angry at the companies that keep sending bills, I'm angry at my fingernails for continuing to grow, I'm angry at the grocery store for not hiding that chili and those hot wings from my eyes, I'm..........angry. Very recently, I went into a yelling, screaming, cursing rage fit.  Ninety minutes later, I was so embarrassed by my own self, I was in tears.  Thank goodness family understands.  I am controlled by this grief device.  I just never know which button it's going to push on which day.

It's too bad that this grief magnometer is a final sale item.  I cannot return it.  The thing it came in to replace is permanently gone, and it is permanently here.  I think I can change some habits and surroundings and learn to live with it, but I wouldn't if I didn't have to.