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Friends.

One of my friends from high school wrote on her wall that she was disappointed with President Obama because he was wining and dining with Hollywood celebrities while poor people starved. This was the first thing that I read this morning and it ticked me off. I promptly deleted her from my friends and it made me wonder why I even bother with Facebook in the first place. People say really stupid things on there. I also wondered if her breath was still as hideous as it was in high school.

I’ve been ranting about Facebook on and off for the past couple of weeks but I think I have come to the point where I have seriously OD’d on it. Aside from a photo of a 1970 Amana Radarange that another friend shared today, I stared at the stream and wondered why the hell I was wasting the time. It’s kind of like watching TRU-TV’s crap reality shows with people that you allegedly know. It got me to wondering, do I really still ‘know’ people that I went to school with 30 years ago? There’s a few on there that I still enjoy very much, but there’s also a couple that were downright cruel to me during high school and now they want to be “friends”. You scarred me for life, why would I want to continue that sort of frivolity? And yes, being told that “you’ll never fit into society because of your mannerisms” will scar a person for life. You’re lucky I don’t hunt your computer down and put a virus on it.

Now while I’m ranting about Facebook friends, I have to share flipside and say that there are a couple from high school that I have been happy to reconnect with. It was amazing to see a bouquet of flowers from “The Lunch Table Crew” at my father’s services last December. That was a bright spot in a bleak time. I have enjoyed thanking old teachers for helping me even though they didn’t really know they were doing it at the time. I like seeing what former bloggers are up to, those I have met in person and those that we haven’t crossed paths with yet and only met electronically. With the decline of personal blogs and the tendencies for folks to microblog in its place, you have to kind of be on Facebook if you want to stay connected with those folks you knew from the ’00s. But for the most part, the platform seriously pisses me off.

I think I need to cut my Facebook consumption by 9/10ths and seriously prune my friends list down in the process. This might make things more manageable and less irritating.

But I’m seriously keeping the friend with the cool Radarange.

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Retreat.

My sister and I always knew when dad wasn’t happy with us. He never showed his anger by yelling or raving or anything like that. His approach would be more subtle. He would get very quiet. It wasn’t his usual quiet nature, you could tell these instances were different. Conversation would be reduced to the essentials and he would spend time alone in the basement building a bookshelf or an airplane or something. He’d come up for meals and sleeping and other required family interaction, but otherwise he’d retreat to his own space, be quiet for a while and get his head where he needed it to be, coming to his own terms via his own space. We would rarely talk about whatever he was upset afterwards. This has probably made me ask folks on their current well being a lot over the years.

I inherited this quiet approach from him, but to keep it all interesting, I also inherited my mother’s more demonstrative ways. I kind of have this hybrid approach. If something upsets me and it’s something fairly trivial or minor on the hysteria scale, I’ll rant and rave about it, slam a few doors, throw a boot and consider the matter resolved. It’s out of my system and let’s move on to the next thing. But if something really disappoints me or bothers me, I’ll take like dad and go quiet and build a computer or edit music or something. And because I analyze the crap out of stuff, I compare, contrast, weigh symbols and scrutinize between every line to the point of what may seem trivial to someone else ends up being a big deal to me. I believe that most everything means something even if it falls into the nature of a Freudian Slip.

Did I ever mention that I was complicated?

These traits of mine are not something that I am proud of. Earl keeps telling me that I shouldn’t have expectations when it comes to people because folks rarely live up to our own expectations. My rosy view of the world is often clouded by reality and that’s because it’s MY rosy view. I know I have control issues and I know I have expectations but even after 44 years I’m still learning to let these things go and once in a while something disappoints me and I can’t help but go silent and figure my own way through my feelings. This is how I get through it.

I guess one of the days I might get it all figured out.

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Typos.

I make typos all the time. I substitute words that make no sense from time to time. I mess up a lot when I type. But I’m not a journalist. I’m not a professional blogger. I’m just your average geek with a flair for language.

When I read something from a “professional” source, I have a certain expectation of quality. A lack of attention to detail in presentation is going to significantly impact the level of credibility of the information being presented. How can a reader buy the facts when they’re sloppily presented?

This is why stuff like this bothers me. No one has any pride in their work these days. Hurry up, get ‘er done, get the revenue flowing.

I know, it’s just a typo. To me, it speaks volume of this person’s quality of work.

Maybe I’m getting old. Maybe I’m cranky. But I’ll champion the causes of quality and pride in one’s work until I leave this life.

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