Tag Archives: Friendship

Facebook Depresses Me

I took a 5 month hiatus from Facebook a while back. For various reasons, one being I just didn’t need or want my personal life spilled out there for everyone to see, I needed to get “off the grid” FB style.

Coerced by coworkers to get in the loop of our funny office photos I recently got back on.

Immediately two comments popped up. Glad you’re back! They read. Wow I hadn’t realized I’d been missed.

I have been slow to get back into the trappings of Facebook. And I don’t think I’ll ever have the love affair (or perhaps it was just obsession) I once had. And thank goodness. Because there were so many times after I spent 45 minutes trolling my news feed I would walk away with this heavy and negative feeling in my soul. These things did not add happiness to my life:

Photos of me two years ago. Young and fit. Damn I’ve aged.

Ridiculously happy families/couples.

People I never see anymore.

Family I lost touch with.

Babies I didn’t know people had.

Birthdays I missed.

Extravagant meals which make my shitty excuse for dinner depressing and demoralizing.

Movies/TV shows/news/celebrities I know nothing about because I live in my own self-imposed hibernation.

Political rants from friends I thought were more open and accepting.

And for those reasons I do not spend endless wasted minutes watching to see what everyone else is doing or saying while I should be on WordPress tapping into my creative soul! Or outside listening to the birds sing and watching the tree limbs sway. Or engaging with the person in front of me instead of my face stuck in my phone.

But I am not a total begrudged hater. Facebook does have its positives. Maybe I shouldn’t be blaming Facebook. I mean what did Facebook do but merely exist? Just trying to connect people and ideas and photos and lives? These are the reasons I still have an account:

I get to see photos of my nephews living their lives. Without this I would not have such a sweet visual insight into their daily/weekly lives.

All my awesome high school and college friends and the success of their creative endeavors.

The first neighbor I can ever remember and how she still has those curly locks and now a family and house of her own.

That friends and family alike are still out there, breathing, baring their souls or just sharing a recipe.

I can spend as little or as much time on Facebook as I wish. No one is force cramming it down my throat. It is my choice. So I choose to troll occasionally. And not deem it necessary to post every thought I have or every place I go. And to brag about my kid or not. And to try to take away the things that make me smile. And the things that leave a heavy space will just have to be let go and float away with all the other negativity that does not have a place here.

facebook depression

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Sunset by the Sea

That golden orb
lay down so eloquently
the bottom of it
pulled down by the sea
or perhaps the rotation
of the earth
that which we cannot see

And I shared a bench
with an old man
who did not speak
But I heard his heart
when his eyes were alight
no grief
We took in the moment
each of us our own thoughts
dreams hopes desires
beliefs

Sunset by the sea
I gave gratitude
for you and me
for spirit peace equality

A couple lay in each other’s arms
a family played joyfully
mother and son
daddy and baby
a circle of souls
waxing philosophically
three women late in their years
a wet-eared puppy

That golden orb
not a backdrop
but the focus of the moment
holding us all together
to bask in its enjoyment

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Reaching Out

When all is quiet
and there is no work to be done
My mind flies high
soaring against the sun
my heart is full
of all of you
all who have reached out
both old and new
For all the tiring
desperate trying times
Among them has been
no searching for earthly
companions
In that aspect I win
So many open souls
willing to give a hand
reaching out
keeping my mind
from falling back into
the chasm
I want to thank you
as I feel the sun
I want to thank you
for everything you’ve done
I might not have always seemed grateful
but I am here
reaching back out to you.
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For Judith

For Judith
Who I will never see again

You hang like a lost memory
near the gates of your
oak laden neighborhood

I picked you up there once
because your car was in the shop
or something like that

I still have the photo album
you gave me as a gift
which sat in your car for months
long after we’d stopped volunteering
together

Those days at the nonprofit
you were my solace
you were the one I sought
when I walked in the door

Southern charm and recipes
your clothes ever so pressed
and conservative
yet so approachable

Thick black hair
tiny shiny beautiful
unpretentious jewelry

Your soon-to-be son-in-law
said he hoped his daughter
would look like you when she got
old

But you were not old when you
died

Divorce
cancer
you left the shop

We tried to reach out

But you were too proud
or sad

I should have joined you
for Thai chi
I should have begged
one more time
to have lunch with you at
Joey’s

You always got the soup and
half sandwich
but could never eat it all

Judith I fashioned a character
after you in one of my unfinished
novels

Judith where are you
now

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Brothers and Sisters

We parted days ago
but it seems like years 
already

I ride the bumpy white gravel trail
near my home
that reminds me of our solitary
bike ride last week on the Panhandle

You wanted to cross the no entry point
I said no
I wanted to take a photo of the 
military threat level sign
you said don't be stupid

We listened to Pink Floyd
when we were teenagers
saw them in concert 
after a truck bed ride
down the streets of downtown Nashville
high on rock n roll 

Now I listen to them and my heart 
sings cries

We had one huge fight 
our entire sibling hood 
A letter sent to my house 
ended the feud and I made the call

Now it seems unbelievable
after all the laughs you gave me
at the Cape
Laughter I needed at the most
crucial time of my life

It was like we were ten
fifteen twenty again

Momma's brother is gone
from this earth
I cried with her in the bathroom
of a seafood restaurant
days after he passed
We embraced by the sink
and our hands smelled like
that coconut soap there

You don't love the beach like I do
but it will always remind me of you

Brothers and sisters
always a time and place

Take care of yourself
so we can cry with laughter
again. 

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Sympathy from a Friend

I saw the tears in her eyes
after our embrace
She felt my pain
She hurt for me
For a moment
she owned it
like she had before
in her own time of
desperation
But I had to take it back
from her
and own it myself
Like we all do
But blessed are we
who can share it
with someone
who doesn’t judge
Yet sheds tears
with ours
Reminding there
is good in the world.

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The Scream of Silence

It was brought to my attention last night at a neighborhood party that I had not contributed to my blog lately.

I knew this would happen.

One of my avid readers, the boyfriend of the party host and the only male there, mouthed at me from across the room and plateful of cheese and crusty garlic bread.

“Your blog.”

That’s all he had to say really. I knew he would at some point in the evening bring about my accountability for my writing.

“I know,” I mouthed back at him. “I’ve been applying for jobs lately. Not a lot of time for my writing.”

My avid reader is deaf. He contracted polio when he was twelve. Woke up one morning to complete and total silence. I cannot imagine losing my hearing. Sometimes I think I’d rather be blind. To not hear the crescendo of a song that makes your whole body vibrate? To not hear the birds sing outside the window, reminding me of simplicity and nature? To not hear the myriad of beautiful (and not so beautiful) voices and accents from around the globe in their own rhythm and cadence?

But my avid reader doesn’t let this silence deafen his life. He fishes. He shops at the flea market impatiently with his girlfriend. He attends parties. He drives the old ladies (and intoxicated) people home. And he reads lips from across the room.

I am in awe of this ability. I try to read lips, too. I usually look at a person’s mouth when they are speaking to me. It helps clear the wobble of communication in loud places. But my avid reader not only reads lips, he recognizes accents, too. He knew I came from somewhere-in-the-south when he first met me. His girlfriend is English, and boasts a refined Liverpool accent. Thank goodness because she enunciates with the precision of a stern schoolteacher. I can’t imagine poor avid reader trying to read the lips of some of the people I heard mumbling their way through life during my childhood.

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Despite his handicap, which perhaps he doesn’t even recognize it as that, he is one of the happiest people I know. I hear his laughter all the way down the street sometimes when I’m walking the dog.

I claim to be, and am, a very auditory person. I have music playing almost constantly. I can’t even brush my teeth without clicking my iPod to shuffle. But when my son and husband went away on a trip for a week I did not turn on the TV or music until the day before they arrived. It was as if I needed that calm quiet. That peacefulness after years worth of conversation and children and cartoons and the pop of Nerf guns.

I wouldn’t want the absence of sound all the time like Avid Reader. Although that absence does magnify the other senses. Maybe colors are more vivid. Hugs are deeper. The gulf breeze more caressing. Faces have more character.

And just maybe words, lines, and stories birth an even bigger life within the scream of silence. And when at a party full of cackling women the silence must be just heavenly.

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Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

I don’t get how some companies only give their employees a week off for a whole year’s work. Thank god and universe my company (Starving artist/stay-at-home Mom) has a more flexible vacation policy.

I’m not saying I’m ripping it up in Rio or chillaxin it down in Fiji, but I am able to take a few days here and there to discover the wonders and rejuvenating benefits of staying with family and friends in the great American south.

Rejuvenating? With family? Actually, yes. Keep it at three days tops and you’re golden.

I just came back from a girl’s trip. Me and two of my besties finally converged to chill in the Florida sun like we did every summer for years until kids came into the picture. So this trip was a little different in that instead of packing a pipe we had superhero figures, Barbies, and juice boxes in our myriad of bags and suitcases.

Yep, we brought our kids.

Now I had spent a little time with these kids and besties over the last five years or so but it was only for brief moments when one of us was in the same state as the other. But you know when a friend is a friend for life even if you don’t see or talk to each other often.

The three of us got together again and it was as if no time had passed.

We picked off right where we left- comfortable and making squirrel noises and doing silly dance moves in between making pb&js. You should have seen the clockwork cadence of our moving about in the condo kitchen while cooking, cleaning, and opening a plethora of Prosecco.

And the kids got along famously.

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Now luckily I was the only one on her period so there were no foul moods or irritation. Only some “Stop being so bossy!” And some “We’re not going to the pool until you eat something other than fruit gummies or Klondike bars!” That coming from us Moms to our kids, of course. The only thing we had to yell at each other was “Hey that’s my wine glass!”

The three of us saw each other through high school, college, and those weird years afterwards where we were each in totally different places and phases in our lives. But we still made time for each other on our days off. Blueberry pancake breakfasts, afternoon swimming, box wine, piling in the hatchback listening to 311 and going to the movies. We were the three musketeers, or the three squirrels, as we called ourselves (thus the kitchen squirrel noises).

To see them now, all mature with stable jobs and children and talk of Cub Scouts and art projects was so interesting. They have each aged like fine wine in that they are more comfortable in their own skin. And seeing them is like a mirror for me. I remember where I came from, what it took to get where I am now. My wine has aged, too. It is subtle sweet and full-bodied. Not that it couldn’t use a few more years in the barrel, but perhaps breathing in a carafe is more of its stage now.

I will miss my friends greatly. That little vacation came at a perfect time for each of us. And my son said it was the best time he’s had with me.

It wasn’t Fiji but it was just what I needed. Sometimes good friends, silly board games, and an undiscovered wine is all you need to feel as if you’ve been to an exotic island and inhaled a breath of fresh air.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ode to the G.O.D.S.

Far removed we were
and dancing on stones
Days of the gods and goddesses
took us to where we are
A pen on paper
a long walk home
hugs last forever
never coming undone
in the mind
from the soul
We trudged on
sometimes slipping on stones
one falling off
the rest left wailing
but carry on
we did
All you poets
never forgotten
All you friends
you are love.

GODS

Written as an ode to a group of friends who
not only helped make high school more bearable
but also cultivated our creative endeavors together.

Twenty-five years later I will never forget
what they meant to me and still do.

Carpe diem G.O.D.S.

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Fadeaway Friend

Friendship
Your subtle entry encased in smallish chit-chat
similar musical interests and a love of photography
my chilled white wine next to your pink Cosmopolitan
The infancy of a grave friendship
Oh, the concerts we attended!
The lush green park that day when we photographed
the crooked wooden fence and the giant knot on the oak
You were never ready when I picked you up
You asked which shoes looked best
the tall leather boots or the black strappy heels?
No longer matronly
Oh, the dance floors we graced!
I still have those dancing shoes
the ones tossed on your living room floor
on lazy days by the karaoke machine
I remember that conversation on the phone
tracing the rough edges of a stone wall
while you cried for the twentieth time
All the times I talked you down from the edge of darkness
All the times you did the same
The divorce, the deaths, the foreclosures, job losses
My hands acquainted with your belongings in boxes
more than once
Your car full of my office supplies 
transporting them when the business failed
Oh, the parties we hosted!
Your famous macaroni
you made sure to include a vegetarian dish
I made sure there were no nuts in my famous slaw
You never ran out of wine
Afternoon movies sitting in the back row
Five times we strolled the beach
You never liked yourself in a bathing suit
My confidant
Then the wine became sour
the Cosmo tainted
I winced when the phone rang
I couldn't talk you down anymore
You didn't like who I'd become 
all of a sudden
Jealousy, competition, disgust
miscommunication, anger, judgement
control, betrayal
These are the wicked that turned it toxic
Senility came to our friendship
and it exited with harsh words and sobbing
The waiter gave me a look 
as I was making a scene
The dying plant you gave me is green as spring
its vines entrenched in the ground
and crawling up the slats of the picked fence
Your photographs are still in my frames
But I cannot listen to Blondie anymore.
End of frienship

–Some friends are meant to stay and some are meant to fly away.
I believe we are here to connect with each other.
But some connections are better off severed.
We can mourn this loss but we can also learn from it.

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