17 Again

I haven’t seen the movie but I feel like I am living the life. At every turn lately, I feel those butterflies of uncertainty that cause so much angst in a young girl’s life. I thought I had moved on. I thought I had overcome the anguish of letting others define my self worth with superficial measurements. I thought I was immune to peer pressure and cliquish behavior. I thought I was strong and secure in my womanhood. That was until two weeks ago. That was until I realized that the teenager in me is still alive and well. That was until I joined FaceBook.

I always thought that FaceBook was for a younger generation, the MySpace/ I-Pod generation, the generation that hangs at StarBucks. Then I started to realize that everyone I knew was on FaceBook—even my mother-in-law. On a whim, while watching American Idol, I decided to register. Within minutes I was surrounded by friends. It was truly the most amazing thing I have seen. I was in contact with friends from high school, from college, from down the street. I had a window into my children’s lives, into the lives of neighbors that I only had said “Hello” to in the grocery story, into relatives that I hadn’t seen in years. Wasn’t this the greatest innovation since the cell phone? Could any form of communication be so wonderful? Then the butterflies began. What if I requested someone to be my friend and they refused? What if I requested someone to be my friend and they didn’t respond? What if I said something stupid on the comment section? What if I responded to my niece’s comments and they thought I was eavesdropping? Before I knew it I was right back in the lunchroom of Boyd County High. I found myself checking my FaceBook an inordinate number of times looking for rolling eyeballs and rejection notices. From there I would go to my hotmail, my blog, my checking account—looking for validation that I was still o.k., still part of the “in” group.

Blogging isn’t much better than FaceBook when it comes to a healthy sense of self-worth. I noticed recently that the BIG mommy bloggers do not allow comments on their blogs. Is it because they are so secure that they don’t need people raving about how creatively they write (like Adam Lambert thinking he is so cool he doesn’t care what the judges say)? Or, is it because deep down they have the same insecurities as the rest of us and are afraid to know what others think? And what about the private bloggers—is that the same as saying, “I am sorry you can’t sit at “our” lunch table?” Oh my, this Internet world we live in is so complicated. I guess that is why it is the tool of the new, younger generation who live in a much more “who cares what anyone thinks” world.
Maybe, there is something Freudian about getting a dog and FaceBook all in the same week. I know when I walk outside he will wag his tail, jump up and down and remind me that I am o.k. even though he was never formally invited to be man’s best friend.


Note to readers: With that said, I love, love, love FaceBook, Blogspot and Hotmail, and UNCG’s online classes! If you haven’t already done so please invite me to be your friend, there is always plenty of room at our lunch table. (Besides I want to catch up with Nick Redd and his 358 friends—who has 358 friends?)

Never Say Never

The Great Awakening

It has been a long winters nap around here but, Spring has arrived and I am coming back. I guess that throughout all time us "mother bear" types just have to hibernate. Sometime last fall, after my last official post, I just crawled in my cave and that was that. But last week, despite all the snow still on the ground, I got that feeling that I get every year at this time, that rumbling in my stomach, that urge to stretch, that whiff of green grass, that told me it is time to get back to life. Hibernating is wonderful. I did it in a winged back chair in my bedroom with a stack of books, a cup of tea and a very soft blanket. Through the winter, I plowed through the Great Awakening, the Stamp Act, the Revolutionary War, and the Federalist Papers. I got to know Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, George Washington and Alexander Hamilton. And somewhere along the way I consumed the 1200 page Religious History of the American People. I also spent a great deal of time getting to know myself. I rarely came out of my room except for the obligatory mother bear carpooling. But all things must come to an end. I am moving on to my last two biographies--Abigail Adams and Mercy Otis Warren. They were women. They were mothers. I think they will understand if I have to read them between spring cleaning and weeding my strawberries and blogging occasionally. After all that's what us mother bear types do.

The Women in my Life...

Mother Nature and my sisters both have a slightly warped sense of humor.  Happy April Fools Day!

Thinking Out Loud

I love spring...a chance to get outside after a long, barren winter and work in my flowerbeds. I love the warmth of the sun and the promise of new life as I see my daffodils popping out of the ground. A person's life is often compared to the four seasons, but can one really have the promise of spring and the birth of new life after reaching the late summer or early fall of their own life? Jessica said she was going to serve John spaghetti and Prego sauce for a week until he figured out she was pregnant...would my family ever guess about me if I served that every day for a month? I always said I wanted seven children, just like "The Sound of Music". Maria wasn't very old when she married Captain Von Trapp...Do you think she had more children but they just didn't make a sequel? I worked with a girl in college who was expecting her first child, the first grandchild, at about the same time as her mom was expecting her 16th child. Has anyone ever had a baby after their SIXTH grandchild was born? Another Rodgers and Hammerstein musical was "Cinderella". She sings a song called "Impossible"... "But the world is full of zanies and fools who don't believe in sensible rules and won't believe what sensible people say...impossible things are happening every day!" I told my sisters that I thought blogging might be for the younger generation, I just couldn't keep up. Maybe I can keep up with them! One thing is for sure, if I am going to raise children in this blogging generation, I better learn how to do it myself!

Passing the Torch

It seems that whatever genes (or desires) I have to express myself on paper have filtered on to the next generation. Heather had her first article published at Segullah. You can read it here. (Please have a tissue close at hand). Trevor is the editor of his school newspaper and can make any subject interesting with his wit and wisdom.

AA (Amazon Anonymous)

My name is Colleen and I am an addict. After surfing the net and confronting my demons, I am ready to admit that the problem has become bigger than I am.

Signs of addiction:

1) A person has no control (especially since my credit card is on file and I am only one click away from anything I want).
2) A person needs larger and larger doses to get the same effect (I have a book in my car, ten by the bed, fifteen in the office).
3) A person may experience withdrawal symptoms of agitation and shaking (and inability to do laundry and dishes).
4) A person may experience sudden weight gain or weight loss (it is definitely “weight gain” which has not been helped by the two pound box of truffles hidden in my closet).
5) A person will show changes in clothing (Changes in clothing? I don’t even change my clothes anymore).
6) A person may become sneaky and evasive (and hide out at the cabin away from friends and family in order to finish Albion’s Seed)
7) A person "uses" in order to relieve stress and forget problems (and escape frigid January days).

And the most telling sign of all—collecting Librarian Action Figures.

God grant me the serenity 
to accept the things I cannot change; 
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference. (And the ability to pay my very large fine at the library)