Me vs. The World

For all the complaints I've written about the American media and questioning the true "freedom" of such (have you seen who owns the media companies? Only a handful... hmmm), it sure pays to have the Internet wide open and fancy free to search most anything my heart desires. While my IP address is probably on a government watch list because I've pinged al Jazeera, thanks to the Patriot Act, I still embrace the fact that I can visit the site whenever I want. Not only that, but where else would I have been able to find a dependable moving company by utilizing such tools as MovingScam.com?

Now comfortably seated among the many boxes I still need to unpack in Pennsylvania, I get to reflect on a time when there was no TV or Internet available for news delivery. In the hours before the movers arrived with our 7,100 lb. load, I sat on the floor in our townhome, sitting in eerie silence while I caught up with my transcription work. I had no Internet connection or TV, and was still new to the area that I did not get the newspaper, and so only had the opportunity to look out the window and see what was going on. I could figure out the weather: Sunny, humid, promising a warm day with perhaps a chance of showers later on because of the mugginess. I met my new neighbors, who kindly welcomed me to the neighborhood and chatted amicably with each other, thus demonstrating to me the kind of folks who lived in a neighborhood such as this.

As I've mentioned before, I think most Americans are starting to realize that we can obtain news sources on our own rules, on our own time. No more scrambling to finish dinner before the 6 o'clock news; no more rolling out of bed early to catch Good Morning America before the long morning commute. No more talking heads having to feed us the information we can oh-so-aptly get at our fingertips when we want to.

The individualization of America has been a long time coming, with the boom of self-transportation and now the ability to live and function effectively from our Internet connections. Sometimes I wonder if this kind of fulfillment also stands in the way of how we function with the rest of the countries on the globe. As we sink further into our couches, laptops and cell phones readily available, how further do we sink away from the rest of the people on this Earth who don't have that luxury? Sure, we can connect with any corner of the world, but even that limitation is show by the frustrating inability for us to deliver the $100 laptop to folks in need, the seeming "independence" that we build from our dependence on the Internet, and the mere fact that there are people out there who live off the fat of the land alone, still, in 2008. It's hard to believe, if you think about it. How many different versions of the Ages can we see with a trip around the world? Even in Central Pennsylvania, the ultimate Amish country, you can find a way of life that even our grandparents don't remember.

So upon my first day in our new townhome, I sat on the floor and wondered what life was like before the Internet; kind of like how parents try to remember what life was like before the kiddies showed up. But we also have to remember some folks don't even know what life is like *after* the Internet. The fact that I can peruse the Internet freely seems like a moot point now, thinking about how my life would have been different if I were born to a parents of a small African tribe, or perhaps an Amish family as one of many children who learn to function without the modern, foreign conveniences that humankind has gone on to discover. However many steps you and I might take into the future of human livelihood, perhaps we should try to remember those who keep their feet planted in ways of old, but also do not ever worry about what would happen if they lost power, couldn't pay the cable bill, or pined for a Wal-Mart in their neck of the woods.

Those Look New, Mommy

I have a list of gossip sites that I like to peruse on a daily basis as my guilty pleasure before scrounging through my email, paying bills online and working. So imagine what kind of face I made when I found this: "My Beautiful Mommy," a book that a Florida plastic surgeon wrote to help mothers communicate to their children why they get plastic surgery.

I'm still somewhat speechless. My first instinct was the nasty look - the kind of nose sneer that you do when you smell the effects of a meal gone terribly wrong - and an incredibly huffy attitude when the book explains that Mommy is getting surgery to help her feel "better." Um, Doc? You might want to explain the difference between having a busted spleen out versus a confidence boost. Feeling "better" because of the pain of an injured organ of the body isn't the same as feeling better about one's image they have to look at in the mirror every day.

But then I sat down and thought about it for a while. Kids are scared when their parents have to get surgery, no matter what the reason, and if it's going to happen, then who better than a plastic surgeon to help choose some gentler words to explain it to kids who think their mommy is hurt and in trouble?

The mother who Newsweek first profiles says she got a tummy tuck because her stomach looked "pruney" (a term her child used) after pregnancy. Yea, I'd probably want that fixed, too. Then again, the mother in the book gets a boob job, a nose job and a tummy tuck. Good golly Ned. What kind of self-image issues would that parent's daughter have? How do you explain that to your child? "Honey, Mommy's not happy with the genes she was given, so I'm going to let someone fix them for me."

There are always things that we all - and I'm talking to the ladies out here, mostly - want to have fixed. Maybe it's the weird-looking veins that started popping out of our legs after pregnancy, or the stretch marks that ripped us apart, or the facial acne scars we'd like to have lasered away from childhood. But what kind of mindset are we setting up our kids for when we reject the physical traits that our parents gave us? Sure, there are parts that might not be up to Hollywood standards, but... all right, that's probably not the best example in the world, but it's the standard that American girls pine after.

The book probably has its place in pop culture history, but I don't understand why parents are so worried about explaining their choices to their kids. Kids have a curiosity and reasoning that so much simpler than ours, and some days I wonder if we should let kids ask the tough questions and help us think about why we do the things we do. For example, the comedian Lewis Black mentions in his "Rules of Enragement" album that instead of letting the CEO crooks (think Tyco and Adelphia) be convicted in conventional manners, they should like a 9-year-old kid take care of that. He imagines that the kid, upon being questioned on what he thinks of three people taking a $1 billion, he would probably say "That's f$%*ing NUTS!"

What I'm worried about is not my self image, but the one I'm teaching my daughter. If she sees her mom hating on herself all the time, she's going to learn the same thing and do it to herself. So I know that, if I ever decide to go under a cosmetic knife, I better be prepared with a statement for my daughter that is 1) easy to understand, and 2) should tell her that Mommy still likes herself.

Besides, plastic surgery is one of those habits that are probably best left to less than moderation. Like gambling and drinking, most folks use it to feel better about themselves until they eventually don't recognize who they were in the first place.

LOL?

Because I'm appreciative of dorky humor, and because this kind of humor is so completely lost on me (I suspect because of my age), I often wonder how many pop references I see every day which pass by my old peepers. One of my personal favorites, even though I have yet to locate what movie/pop culture this is in reference to.

It reminds me of this kind of humor I found on One Horse Shy. p.s.: If I ever wanted to wear my own kind of pop culture on my sleeve, I'd want this shirt the most. (Ok, maybe this one, too!)

My Affair with Craigslist

I have to admit, when I first used Craigslist, I didn't think it would go this far. Sure, I had an apartment to sublet; not a big deal. It was in Rochester, NY and while Craigslist was somewhat popular, there weren't too many people on there. I got two people interested in the apartment, and one of them settled with the apartment, and I was happy. I got what I needed from Craigslist without paying one cent, and so ended the relationship satisfied.

Now I am in a land where Craigslist is the ultimate standard, and I have come crawling back to it, begging for any kind of recognition or answer to my pleas. I receive emails of those who are interested but never respond again, the anonymity a blessing for those who surely think their perfect match is out there, somewhere. My post competes with hundreds upon hundreds of other desperate folks needing to find a way out of the real estate bubble by renting their too-expensive houses to somehow pay the mortgage. Out here in California, it's quite depressing; almost no one lives in a home they can afford.

So now Craigslist of the Bay Area has become the paramour of the desperate, not one who offers his services for the quietly skeptical. I've broken down to snapping at my husband and pushing my work to the side to find the perfect match. (I am self-employed, so I deal with the crunching deadlines by giving myself a kick in the pants.)

Enticing people with smaller successes to come back for more, Craigslist has become my daily obsession as I spend hours upon hours scouring ads to respond to, waiting for the day that I will finally get what I need and leave the relationship for good. Maybe it's not the healthiest way to get what I want, but it worked once before; I'll keep going back for more until he gives me what I need.

Fun for April 1

One of the reasons I like April Fool's is that some people can pull a hoax without embarrassing others or hurting their pride; it's just in good fun. Google does this kind of thing every year. I know it's only 4.5 hours into April Fool's Day out here in the Western frontier, but I spotted Google's joke of the year. Can you? (Remember, it's only up for 24 hours, so don't miss it!)