Tag Archives: social media
I commented on someone’s blog once that had Facebook been around while Zuckerberg was in school on that fateful night when his girlfriend broke up with him, instead of going back to his dorm and creating what later became Facebook, he would have gone back to his dorm, logged onto Facebook, maybe posted some nasty things but probably wouldn’t have created anything. He wouldn’t even had needed to blog about it. A vehicle for his coed hotness comparison campaign would have already been there, all of their pics would have already been in front of him, and a way to reach all of his “friends” would be a click away. (All of this is based on the movie, The Social Network, by the way.) When I suggested this, the blogger disagreed, saying that Zuckerberg may have created something else. While that may be true, especially given Zuckerberg’s immense talents, for most people it is not.
I have a teen son. He’s quite a good student, an honor student, actually, and has plenty of extracurricular activities. But when he’s free he logs on Facebook or plays video games, and probably finds other things to look at online . . . but I digress . . .
After our shared laptop was serviced and consequently wiped clean of all software, I asked my son to reinstall Word and the printer’s software. After all, he hogs that computer the most (and I actually wanted to see if he would do it). He didn’t. I realized later that he didn’t know how, and lost interest in trying to figure it out, because, in the meantime, Facebook and school websites were still accessible. When he needed to print something, instead of installing the software he simply printed it from a different computer.
In the end, I installed the software. Pain in the butt, but certainly do-able.
So here’s a teen boy –and according to the GoDaddy Superbowl commercial, we know that it’s the boys who are computer smart, but I digress (and gag) . . . here’s a teen boy, my oldest child, who didn’t have the patience or immediate need to figure out software installation, yet he spends hours on the computer.
Has my son ever built a website for fun? I think not. Oh, he’s quite comfortable finding his assignments and teacher’s notes online, researching, and posting and emailing school papers to the appropriate people, but he doesn’t try to create much, except when he finds something funny to put on his Facebook page or Facebook group. In other words, he’s proficient at communicating over the internet, but not creating or problem solving.
Unlike Zuckerberg, who said, what if we made this . . .
It makes one wonder.
If there was no Facebook or the like as a ready-made distraction, would my kid would have taken an extra fifteen minutes to click– next, continue, next, continue and gotten a sense of satisfaction from “Congratulations, Software Installation Complete.”
I don’t know, but I do know that he does take great satisfaction in the number of “likes” he’s received on a recent photo of himself that someone else took and posted on Facebook. And I recently became aware that he doesn’t even think to empty his recycle bin — an omission that caused him some embarrassment, by the way.
Years go it seemed somebody usually knew a kid who could fix your computer when it crashed or edit or back-up your family photos and videos, or find a document that you mistakenly deleted. Now, it seems — not so much. I guess there’s no need to be comfortable with basic computer maintenance or programming when the internet works — or you can just log onto another computer, or phone or tablet.
The Zuckerberg’s of today might have a bad date, go home, spend a few hours on Facebook (instead of creating it), maybe watch a movie on Netflix, and go to bed.
I suspect when my kid gets his heart-broken for the first time that’s what he’ll do.
I’d rather he write a song.
Just Me With . . . software installation complete, no thanks to the youth of today.
Next time I’ll get one of the girls to do it.
The Olympics are upon us. Soon I will cry in support of the accomplishments of the athletes, and I will shout at the screen at their defeats, and I will silently wish it was me — on the track, in the water, on the mat. Sadly, however, the activities at which I excel are not on the roster of Olympic events.
But, if they were . . . I could surely medal in . . .
1. Car tweeting.
I live in a small house with five nosy children in double digits of life. We only have one bathroom. They use my bedroom as a lounge. I live on a busy street in front, fishbowl alley in back. No privacy. But I enjoy Twitter and if I want any time to discreetly exchange pleasantries or profanities with my friends who live in my phone, I sit in my car. It’s kind of like making out in a car in high school because there was nowhere else to go. But now I’m alone in my car or, alternatively, I’m with my fluctuating number of Twitter followers. Either way, I am a master of the car tweet. Ask my Tweeps.
I don’t know what I’m going to do when my oldest gets his driver’s license . . . and a girlfriend. I won’t do well sharing my car time.
2. Ex avoidance.
I am Ninja Ex. I’m here, I’m there, I’m everywhere — for the kids. But when the Ex is around, I can get in and out like a whore at a baptism. It really is quite impressive. It was a skill I learned from practicing law, where the most important part of an adversarial meeting is actually getting out of the building without having your client endure sharing an elevator with his or her opponent. A well-timed bathroom break does the trick, or simply quietly walking away without looking back, like Jason Bourne. As Ninja Ex I know the fastest exits from the school parking lot and where to enter a playing field or concert hall, choose the best spot to cheer on my children and be seen by them, yet remain out of the Ex’s eye-line, should he happen to appear. I send the kids out for his visits and he returns them to me yet I — remain — unseen.
Batman ain’t got nothing on me.
It’s been a solid year since I’ve been less than a fifty feet from my former husband, and more than that since there has been eye-contact. As my therapist put it, “I see no reason why you ever have to see him.” So I don’t. I’m just following doctor’s orders, you see — like a champ. An Olympic champion.
Two medals ain’t bad.
But not only would I medal, I say I would get the gold! I would stand proud and misty eyed while my country’s instrumental national anthem is blared from high-powered speakers to a cheering crowd and over the internet to millions of people in their homes.
Except of course, if my Ex showed up, then — poof!— Me and my medals would be gone. A handshake, a wave — and I would be sitting in my car at the parking lot at Dunkin’ Donuts, exchanging 140 characters of Twitter-wisdom about my experiences.
To be fair, I’m good at other things, like managing meager amounts of money and pretending to be Beyoncé in my kitchen, but every superior competitor knows when to focus on those one or two events that truly bring glory and a chance at a medal. I’ve outlined mine. We can’t all come home with a fistful of shiny medals. I’ll take my two and leave — like I was never there.
I think I’m tearing up a bit just thinking of it.
Just Me With . . . dreams of the gold.
So this is the anniversary of when my divorce became final. Well, well, well. The divorce process, from filing to finality was almost three years to the day. It was litigious and expensive. I still have outstanding legal bills and there is retirement money yet to be transferred. Regardless of the loose ends, the divorce itself has been final for a year. Happy freaking anniversary to me. See, Don’t Congratulate Me On My Divorce . . . Not Today.
It was my husband who was the litigious one, though I’m the lawyer. But suddenly, after his multiple filings, hearings, and mediation and him threatening to prolong the process, as in, “I don’t care how long it takes. This can go on forever. I’d rather pay my lawyer than you,” when he got this last girlfriend, he couldn’t get divorced fast enough. Huh. Even after the settlement was agreed upon and we were waiting for signatures, he filed yet another costly petition because it was taking too damn long.
Let me be clear: we aren’t wealthy people, so unlike Kobe Bryant and his wife, we weren’t dividing mansions and millions. Not even close. No, my Ex-husband had another “M” word in mind.
In the year since our bonds of matrimony were broken, My Ex-husband has remarried.
Now they are expecting. Huh. Guess he had plans. Plans which necessitated a divorce. Because the ability to remarry — that is the true power and magic of divorce. That, and being able to sign up for eHarmony.com . . . but I digress.
Well, that particular magic hasn’t happened to me. (And that’s okay, really.)
What I Have Done Since My Divorce . . .
1. I got Netflix;
2. Having never watched it before — ever, I started from episode one and got caught up on Grey’s Anatomy right up to the current episode;
3. I bought an iPhone;
4. I got on Twitter, and
5. I started this blog.
That’s right. Apparently I had plans, too, damn it. So maybe I haven’t traveled the world since I became legally single. Maybe I haven’t found someone to whom to publicly declare my love “until death do us part” (yeah, no comment) and started a brand new family . . .
I’m texting and tweeting like a champ, #hashtags and all.
Just Me With . . . Meredith and McDreamy, my Tweeps, my Apps, and my Readers.
Thank you! See also: The Twilight Zone — Again, Seriously?
So if you read my earlier post, “Facebook Mutual Friend With The Ex’s Girlfriend — Part One” you know that sitting at Starbucks I found out for sure that my Transitional Man –the first man I had dated since my separation — who I’d met by a chance encounter on the street, had also dated my Ex-Husband’s Girlfriend.
When I told him he was freaked out. I do believe he stuttered a bit, “Wha Wha What?” This dude is an ambitious, self-assured lawyer. The fact that he was at a loss for words is no less than extraordinary.
“Yes,” I said, “My husband is living with her.”
“Living with her?” He was astonished.
“Yup.” I was still getting used to it.
Now here’s where I tread lightly. I don’t want to bad mouth the Girlfriend . After all, she is not the woman my Ex left me for (that relationship didn’t work out, surprise, surprise) and though she has done some things that have overstepped for sure, I don’t want to use this post as any kind of venting situation. So I will condense and dilute his comments.
Actually, I didn’t ask him anything about her. He just started talking. It felt like he wanted to be my source of information. First he assured me that they had not slept together. (I find that quite hard to believe, he buys his condoms in bulk).
Then he said something very interesting. He said he didn’t think she’d be very “kid friendly.” Next, he made a most caring comment– he said, “It must be so hard to have another person around your kids who you don’t know and you have no control over.” He added, “I guess you end up just having to trust your Ex and that’s gotta be hard.”
God Bless my Transitional Man — he hit the nail right on the head. Then he repeated that the Girlfriend wasn’t the kid type and volunteered some additional information I won’t repeat. It was somewhat worrisome since he described her as not kid friendly and expressed sympathy at my situation.
In any event, my Transitional Man turned out to be very sensitive and thoughtful. By the way, he has no kids, never married — so this was particularly insightful. I really appreciated that.
Though he may have been exaggerating his stance for my benefit, it was clear that he was not impressed by my Ex’s choice. Again, I’m not going to repeat all the things he said, but this — this — was simply a gem: After describing The Girlfriend as “harsh” he said,
“I don’t get it. Going from you to her is like going from
Alicia Keys . . . .
to . . . .
(You know, the villainous reality show contestant from The Apprentice, the one people loved to hate).
Just Me With . . . a Smile on My Face.
Postscript. Not only did my Ex marry the Girlfriend, but they have procreated. So much for her not being the kid type . . .