Facebook confession

“It’s like watching paint dry.”

We’ve all heard the expression, felt the instant implication. A real slowwww process. The ultimate time waster. Moronic behavior for any rational, human being. Right?

Then why, I ask myself, do I do it?

Okay, so I confess, it’s not actually paint that I watch, it’s my facebook page.

But think about it: facebook… paint… facebook… paint… Are they really that much different?

The problem is, I’m working on my second novel. Or should be working. And much of the time, when I’m in that zone, banging away at the keys, really going strong, there’s no issue. But when the words aren’t coming, when I’m doubting the direction the character is taking, questioning the entire project, I get antsy and lose confidence. And when I start losing confidence, what do I do? Look for a distraction, of course! And what better way to be distracted from my gnawing self doubt than to…. You guessed it! Check my facebook page! There haven’t been studies yet (that I’m aware of), but for the moment I’m convinced social networking alters dopamine levels in the brain. How else to explain the effect? A few clicks. A few comments and Ahhhh… I’ve completely forgotten about my angst. I feel sooooo much better.

Too bad the fix is only temporary.

That’s right: Just like that sugar rush that leaves you physically dragging later, it’s not long before I’m back to reality, and feeling terrible about having just thrown away minutes… or, dare I say it? hours of my life. 

I’m thinking facebook should be like online banking. You get in, check your balance, see if anything new has been posted, and get out.

Quickly, no lingering.

Can you imagine staring at an online banking screen all day long waiting for updates? Crazy, right?

But there I am, literally staring at facebook! Maybe a click here and there, but I’m still basically in the same place. Waiting. For what, I ask myself? A new post? A witty reply to something written eight hours ago?

Seriously, I tell myself, get a grip!

The truth is, I know people who post all day long. They are hooked up technologically in ways that I cannot even conceive. They access the internet from their computer, their palm, their cell (or are the two the same thing now?) These individuals use facebook like they do twitter (another brilliant innovation in the world of social networking). They keep us updated on their every movement, every thought.

It’s frightening, really.

Like the guy I once saw on Shalom in the Home who was always behind a video camera filming his son’s life. He wanted to document everything, he explained to Rabbi Shmuley. The only problem was, he was so busy recording his life, he wasn’t living it.

Recently, one of my facebook “friends” took a month long trip abroad with her teenage daughter. It was to be one final “hurrah” before “M” went off to college (I know this because she posted it on facebook). Okay, I thought to myself, I won’t be hearing from her for a while. Maybe she’ll upload a few pictures of the trip when they return. But lo and behold, and I kid you not….fifteen minutes could not pass without yet another post appearing on my wall. And she was in Europe!! In all fairness, there were a good number of posts about an exhibit they were seeing in London, or details about a wonderful meal they were enjoying in Italy, but what was startling were the other posts. There were “fill in the blank thoughts” such as “looking for….”  Or statements begging for commentary: “Beer or wine?”

Like a junky needing a fix, my friend got her relief within minutes. I watched in astonishment as the responses rolled in.

Mr. Goodbar….. a hot date…. Your hotel?…. not M, I hope!….

Wine, but only white….. Can’t go wrong with a good Brewster….Both! Hey, life is short!

She may as well have been back home in Cleveland instead of across the globe.

If I sound judgmental, I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I know people for whom social networking has been a lifesaver for an otherwise isolated existence. I know people who use facebook intelligently, promoting their business or keeping up with friends (the real kind) and family. The difference is having the choice. Like any addict, I was beginning to feel that facebook was controlling me, not the other way around. And that, quite frankly, feels pretty bad. I don’t like operating on autopilot with anything I do. Life is too short not to live fully, with purpose. Each day, each minute.

So I have picked myself up, dusted myself off and vowed to get back in the drivers seat. Yes, you will still see me on facebook, just not so much, not as an escape, and certainly not when I have something better to do.

Just Say It!

"Wow, you are such an interesting person!"

These are the words I said to a woman I had just met. Her face lit up and she immediately looked ten years younger than her sixty-something age. We were attending a writers group meeing, it was getting late, most of the participants had already said their goodbyes. There was no ulterior motive on my part. I didn't want anything from her. Simply put, it was how I felt. She was interesting and I was beyond riveted by her life story: Widowed when her daughter was two, and during the 1970's when most women would have quickly latched on to a new husband to take care of them, my new friend did not. Instead she went on to build a successful thirty-year career in literature, both publishing and teaching. She spoke of her teaching positions, first at an elite private school teaching high school English and later, at an urban community college where most of the students packed handguns and she feared for her life. My friend shared colorful details of her travels, most recently, her trip to Venice where her now grown daughter demonstrated an uncanny ability to navigate unfamiliar alleys. There were trips to Sante Fe, meditation sessions with Native Americans, meetings with actual Shamans.

So why the delight on her face at my statement? Why such surprise? Certainly she must hear such sentiments all the time! If anything it should be too much already, like the runway model whosimply can't bear to hear one more time how drop dead gorgeous she is. Right? Well, maybe not.

"You look great."

"I didn't recognize you; did you lose weight?"

These are the things we typically say to one another. This is our comfort zone. We usually walk right up to that line and don't cross it. Maybe because we're afraid to take the risk. What if we sound stupid? What if we sound insincere? But isn't stopping at that line just like scraping the surface of a juicy steak, licking our fork and proclaiming "all done". What are you crazy? The best part is inside! Dig in!

Sure, I can appreciate a pretty face, a fit body, thick healthy head of hair as much as anyone. But what I love even more is when a person's essence jumps out at me and practically slaps me in the face. And when it does, I like to speak up. Let them know: I see you. I appreciate who you are.

There was a death in my family recently, the wife of my father's cousin, "B". She was young, maybe in her early sixties, but it wasn't unexpected.

"B" had suffered privately with cancer for several years. Thankfully her immediate family had time to make peace with the inevitable, prepare themselves (as much as one can in these situations), and say goodbye. But now there's little ol' me. See, my father, for most of his life didn't have a relationship with his cousin. It wasn't until about fifteen years ago or so that they reconnected. So while there were the barbeques at the shore, or the occasional family celebration, I, myself, didn't spend a significant amount of time with "B" and her family. In fact, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I saw them in the past five years. But that's not the problem. See, even though the gatherings were infrequent, to me, they were still memorable. And this is because B was the type of woman who honest to God, (and I know it's cliche) lit up the room, when she arrived-- and in her case, it was usually while donning a big floppy hat on her head. Her spirit was so vibrant, and she was incredibly warm and loving.

B was the mother of four and an artist. At the shiva, her husband took me on a tour of the house, pointing out her artwork. Then we went downstairs.

B had converted an entire bathroom -floor to ceiling--into a mosaic masterpiece. There were glass fragments of all shapes and colors, plus memorabilia from her life--wine bottles, tiny toys, bottle caps, ceramic plates--all cemented together to create an almost living shrine of her life and spirit. The tears flowed then. It couldn't be helped; I felt her in that room. "You can't ever move," I said softly to her husband, only half kidding.

So why didn't I ever tell B what I thought of her? As I said before, her immediate family had several years to prepare. Certainly anything and everything was shared openly. But I didn't know she was dying. I do vaguely remember my parents mentioning something about B being sick. Was it a year ago? I can't say for sure. But for whatever reason, I didn't pay attention. I didn't understand it really was THE END. Now, if I had known, I like to think I would have told her what was in my heart. I would have said something like the following:

"You know, B, this may sound crazy, especially because you don't know me so well, but I love you. I admire you. I think you are such a wonderful and unique woman. You inspire me. And I will always remember you."

Actually, writing these words now, I am certain that yes, had I known, I would have spoken up. I would have shared. I would have risked sounding silly. I say it's better to speak up then to remain silent and regret it later. There are no guarantees in life. How much time we have with our loved ones, even those we don't know so well, is a complete mystery.

So if you feel it in your heart, why not just say it?

Out loud. Right now.

Susan Boyle

I had trouble sleeping last night.  My dog woke me to go out at 3am and after that, there was no way I was getting back to sleep.  So, I tossed and turned with racing thoughts until 6am when the alarm went off. 

For some crazy reason, I thought of Susan Boyle.  You know, the latest you tube sensation from England... the one on Britain's Got Talent. I realized why it is so many of us are smitten with her. Yes, for sure, she has a great voice.  And yes, she is dowdy and completely unlike any celebrity any of us has known (admit it- you're waiting for her makeover!). But it's something more.

Yesterday was my birthday.  I won't mention my age, but suffice it to say that I have a fifteen year old son. Biological son. And I was not a teenage mother.

So you do the math.

Anyway, after poo pooing about not needing so many candles on my birthday cake, my twelve year old daughter asked me why it was that grown ups didn't like telling people their ages.  I thought for a minute and then responded that it was because the older you get, the less time you feel you have. As a kid, you're told "you have your whole life ahead of you... so much to look forward to..." But us grownups, sometimes- okay, most of the time- we just don't feel that way. It feels like the best parts of our lives are behind us. I can only speak for myself here, but I've noticed that even the little things that used to make my heart flutter a bit with excitement- a song on the radio for example- no longer do.

So to see someone like Susan Boyle, past her prime at age forty-eight doing something so extraordinary gives the rest of us hope. Maybe we didn't blow it. Maybe we didn't waste our lives, fall short of our goals. The game isn't even over yet!

Us forty and fifty and sixty-somethings still have life in us!  Okay, so I waited until now to write and publish my first book. Should I spend inordinate amounts of time regretting that I didnt do so sooner?  A resounding NO!

Hey, there are exciting days ahead! Many more books to come. Susan Boyle is proof that it's never too late. No matter how old, no matter how many gray hairs, or extra weight...it's never too late.  How comforting.