Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Seven Days Without Facebook is Some Weak-ass Shit!
Facebook both sucks and is awesome.
Things that are AWESOME:
-Tagging every picture I can get my paws on. Even people in the background. Tag em. Tag em ALL.
-Having an instant fix for my pathological need for attention. All I have to do is have a witty headline for whatever the hell I am doing and behold! 15 comments from people I could just as easily call/see in person.
-Putting lots o' pictures up of all the fun and exciting things I do, complete with clever captions for entertainment value!
-Occasionally linking to my blog (something I actually care about and am trying to shape).
-Untagging ugly pictures of me because somehow it will cause people to think I am a shitty looking version of myself.
-Mindlessly clicking through a high school acquaintance's wedding/baby pictures for alot longer than I should.
-Harrassing my mother, sister, aunt, cousin, Alisa and Danny to no end.
-Poke around the site of a boy I met the day/night/weekend before. I am not ashamed to judge based on a history of frat-boy man-pile pictures with beer, sideways hats and hand signals. I simply leave dry-yet-disdainful comments and stick the poor bloke in the platonic friend category. Next!
Now, onto things that SUCK
-Knowing that you got up at 5am, you're fucking tired and "Ugh, it's Monday." On Thursday, you are "excited about the weekend" and "get to see (insert friend no one knows here)." Saturday you are hungover and Sunday you really hope your Team wins. Jesus at least Twitter is funny. The most guilty of this crap? Me.
-Being tagged in a photo where you look like a beast.
-Jackass people I work with/go to Kabbalah with/vaguely know making assumptions because my pictures involve my weekend outings. I yawn, and in reply I get a "Hey are you tired? Too much partyin' eh? Eh?" Oy!
-Emotional Cutting. In short, this is what you do when you go to the Facebook site of someone you know you shouldn't go to the Facebook site of and look at pictures you don't want to see and click on links you don't want to click on. People look at us, we look at them. What a negative shitshow.
-Facebook Chat. I'll hit you up. Otherwise, leave me alone.
-Facebook in General: My life has no ambiguity. There is no mystery. No "I wonder what he/she is like" or "I'm curious about..." Nope. Its all there. Described in detail on a newsfeed and laid out in pictures. Everyone is connected and dependent and enslaved. It causes you to not function without having to pause and share every thought and gather the thoughts of others. Had a great day in (Insert City Here)? Post it on Facebook, because it didn't really happen unless everyone is envious/entertained by it.
So what to do?
Well, I am a proud/ashamed Facebook addict. Thus, I have decided against getting rid of my Facebook and instead decided to abstain for one week. I will take note of the effect this has on my life in general. At the end of the week, I will probably post a link on my Facebook linking to this blog where people can read about what I did while NOT on Facebook.
Or...maybe I won't. Let see what I learn.
For now, Goodbye Facebook. You have left me in a tired, bored, trance for too long. You have caused me to hold on to things I should let go of and let go of everything else but you. You have fried my brain and worn out my laptop battery. I have missed dance classes and TV shows and sleep. I am done for one week.
...because I don't think I could give it up for longer than that.
Things that are AWESOME:
-Tagging every picture I can get my paws on. Even people in the background. Tag em. Tag em ALL.
-Having an instant fix for my pathological need for attention. All I have to do is have a witty headline for whatever the hell I am doing and behold! 15 comments from people I could just as easily call/see in person.
-Putting lots o' pictures up of all the fun and exciting things I do, complete with clever captions for entertainment value!
-Occasionally linking to my blog (something I actually care about and am trying to shape).
-Untagging ugly pictures of me because somehow it will cause people to think I am a shitty looking version of myself.
-Mindlessly clicking through a high school acquaintance's wedding/baby pictures for alot longer than I should.
-Harrassing my mother, sister, aunt, cousin, Alisa and Danny to no end.
-Poke around the site of a boy I met the day/night/weekend before. I am not ashamed to judge based on a history of frat-boy man-pile pictures with beer, sideways hats and hand signals. I simply leave dry-yet-disdainful comments and stick the poor bloke in the platonic friend category. Next!
Now, onto things that SUCK
-Knowing that you got up at 5am, you're fucking tired and "Ugh, it's Monday." On Thursday, you are "excited about the weekend" and "get to see (insert friend no one knows here)." Saturday you are hungover and Sunday you really hope your Team wins. Jesus at least Twitter is funny. The most guilty of this crap? Me.
-Being tagged in a photo where you look like a beast.
-Jackass people I work with/go to Kabbalah with/vaguely know making assumptions because my pictures involve my weekend outings. I yawn, and in reply I get a "Hey are you tired? Too much partyin' eh? Eh?" Oy!
-Emotional Cutting. In short, this is what you do when you go to the Facebook site of someone you know you shouldn't go to the Facebook site of and look at pictures you don't want to see and click on links you don't want to click on. People look at us, we look at them. What a negative shitshow.
-Facebook Chat. I'll hit you up. Otherwise, leave me alone.
-Facebook in General: My life has no ambiguity. There is no mystery. No "I wonder what he/she is like" or "I'm curious about..." Nope. Its all there. Described in detail on a newsfeed and laid out in pictures. Everyone is connected and dependent and enslaved. It causes you to not function without having to pause and share every thought and gather the thoughts of others. Had a great day in (Insert City Here)? Post it on Facebook, because it didn't really happen unless everyone is envious/entertained by it.
So what to do?
Well, I am a proud/ashamed Facebook addict. Thus, I have decided against getting rid of my Facebook and instead decided to abstain for one week. I will take note of the effect this has on my life in general. At the end of the week, I will probably post a link on my Facebook linking to this blog where people can read about what I did while NOT on Facebook.
Or...maybe I won't. Let see what I learn.
For now, Goodbye Facebook. You have left me in a tired, bored, trance for too long. You have caused me to hold on to things I should let go of and let go of everything else but you. You have fried my brain and worn out my laptop battery. I have missed dance classes and TV shows and sleep. I am done for one week.
...because I don't think I could give it up for longer than that.
Friday, October 9, 2009
I went to Italy!
And if you want to read my long, narcissistic ramblings about it, you've come to the right place.
Day 0 - Chess in the Airport and the resulting Madness
Day 1 - Train Station Hysteria and the Beauty of Firenze
Day 2 - David, what a Man!
Day 3 - Trains, Skulls, and a Forgotten Stumbling Home
Day 4 - Confusion in the Sistine Chapel, Wikipedia Tour Guides, and Italian Crazy People
Day 5 - Euro Extortion and the Danger of Being Alone
Day 6 - Chain of Screaming and the Venice Alternative
Day 7 - Executions, Flying Rats, and Kissing Italian Boys
Day 0 - Chess in the Airport and the resulting Madness
Day 1 - Train Station Hysteria and the Beauty of Firenze
Day 2 - David, what a Man!
Day 3 - Trains, Skulls, and a Forgotten Stumbling Home
Day 4 - Confusion in the Sistine Chapel, Wikipedia Tour Guides, and Italian Crazy People
Day 5 - Euro Extortion and the Danger of Being Alone
Day 6 - Chain of Screaming and the Venice Alternative
Day 7 - Executions, Flying Rats, and Kissing Italian Boys
A Day from Mama Sue's June Visit
A little late, but worth a post.
I should have known that my mother, a heavy packer under normal circumstances, was going to greet me with 4 suitcases holding no less than 850lbs of shit. She had been in Brooklyn for 2 weeks prior visiting East Coast family. This being said, I ask you - I BEG you - to tell me why this woman felt the need to travel with 6 cookbooks.
I arrived at my cousin Amanda's house where my Ma was babysitting Dominic, Amanda's newborn baby (of course that's his name, right?) "Nanny Fanny Pudding n' Pie!" - I hear shouted as soon as I walk in.
Enter Mama Sue. Buckle up, its gonna be one hell of a ride.
Amanda was due to be home in an hour, so until then, we were on nanny duty. I had never met Baby Dom. I should take this moment to enthusiastically proclaim that Dom is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. Olive skinned, big brown eyes, and a smile that takes up his whole face. I love that little man more than anything. I will also point out that it is an amazing thing watching your mother be, well, a parent. It has been, presumably, twenty years since Mama Sue had to change a shitty diaper or burp an infant yet she was able to revert back to newborn mother status like it was nothing. Warming the bottle, putting the kid in the carrier thing, bouncing it in her lap (you know, whatever it is people do with babies). She had it down like it was a routine. Come to think of it...this dog-and-pony show was probably nothing compared to raising me.
We headed off to dinner after that. It is at this point that I should mention that there are a few things, as a Destefano woman, that you would rather have a root canal than deal with. A notable one is being in a situation that may require another Destafano woman to shout an an innocent bystander. To put it plainly: my mother HATES being interrupted by strangers trying to sell or tell us something. She hates random chatty people, Academy Award acceptance speeches, poorly behaved children, and all other humans that contribute to social awkwardness. Someone in a shopping mall is freaking out? You'd rather die than deal with the already icky situation in the presence of my mother.
To provide an example, I will use the dinner we had that night at a brewery in Burbank. Me, my sister, our closest friends, and Mama Sue had an amazing dinner and probably a few too many cock-a-ma-tails on the back patio of the restaurant. 10 feet away, there was another large party that finished and left as we were still ordering dessert. The busboy proceeded to clear the tables that were pushed together, and then the waiter came to separate them back to their original locations. I should remind you that this is patio furnature on a concrete-like surface. Therefore, this waiter's determination to reorganize everything in a frenzy created no much noise we couldn't hear eachother to order dessert. There would be 5 seconds of silence, and as soon as Ma began, "how about the tiramisu?' He would begin dragging another metal table with a deafening screech.
Finally she stopped mid-sentence, glared over at the poor guy, threw her arms in the air and shouted, "REALLY?!? Really?...."
I hung my head and took slow breaths in an effort to slow my pulse down.
Besides Ma's quick (and implied) verbal thrashing at the waiter, who totally deserved it might I add, the night was uneventful after that. I hadn't slept in days because, apparently, making sure you see someone off to the middle east for two months is a week long bar hopping event with 20 other people. Needless to say, I needed to get some sleep.
A great day with Mama Sue.
I should have known that my mother, a heavy packer under normal circumstances, was going to greet me with 4 suitcases holding no less than 850lbs of shit. She had been in Brooklyn for 2 weeks prior visiting East Coast family. This being said, I ask you - I BEG you - to tell me why this woman felt the need to travel with 6 cookbooks.
I arrived at my cousin Amanda's house where my Ma was babysitting Dominic, Amanda's newborn baby (of course that's his name, right?) "Nanny Fanny Pudding n' Pie!" - I hear shouted as soon as I walk in.
Enter Mama Sue. Buckle up, its gonna be one hell of a ride.
Amanda was due to be home in an hour, so until then, we were on nanny duty. I had never met Baby Dom. I should take this moment to enthusiastically proclaim that Dom is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. Olive skinned, big brown eyes, and a smile that takes up his whole face. I love that little man more than anything. I will also point out that it is an amazing thing watching your mother be, well, a parent. It has been, presumably, twenty years since Mama Sue had to change a shitty diaper or burp an infant yet she was able to revert back to newborn mother status like it was nothing. Warming the bottle, putting the kid in the carrier thing, bouncing it in her lap (you know, whatever it is people do with babies). She had it down like it was a routine. Come to think of it...this dog-and-pony show was probably nothing compared to raising me.
We headed off to dinner after that. It is at this point that I should mention that there are a few things, as a Destefano woman, that you would rather have a root canal than deal with. A notable one is being in a situation that may require another Destafano woman to shout an an innocent bystander. To put it plainly: my mother HATES being interrupted by strangers trying to sell or tell us something. She hates random chatty people, Academy Award acceptance speeches, poorly behaved children, and all other humans that contribute to social awkwardness. Someone in a shopping mall is freaking out? You'd rather die than deal with the already icky situation in the presence of my mother.
To provide an example, I will use the dinner we had that night at a brewery in Burbank. Me, my sister, our closest friends, and Mama Sue had an amazing dinner and probably a few too many cock-a-ma-tails on the back patio of the restaurant. 10 feet away, there was another large party that finished and left as we were still ordering dessert. The busboy proceeded to clear the tables that were pushed together, and then the waiter came to separate them back to their original locations. I should remind you that this is patio furnature on a concrete-like surface. Therefore, this waiter's determination to reorganize everything in a frenzy created no much noise we couldn't hear eachother to order dessert. There would be 5 seconds of silence, and as soon as Ma began, "how about the tiramisu?' He would begin dragging another metal table with a deafening screech.
Finally she stopped mid-sentence, glared over at the poor guy, threw her arms in the air and shouted, "REALLY?!? Really?...."
I hung my head and took slow breaths in an effort to slow my pulse down.
Besides Ma's quick (and implied) verbal thrashing at the waiter, who totally deserved it might I add, the night was uneventful after that. I hadn't slept in days because, apparently, making sure you see someone off to the middle east for two months is a week long bar hopping event with 20 other people. Needless to say, I needed to get some sleep.
A great day with Mama Sue.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Dear Jackass.
If I could write letters to various versions of myself, I imagine they would say something like this:
6-year old Danielle: "Even though Mom warned you never to interrupt her when she's blow drying her hair, this doesn't mean you should awkwardly beat around the bush when you need to run in to tell her your 2 year old sister badly busted her head open while running full on into the corner of a wall."
8-year old Danielle: "Don't worry. Your unexplained paranoia about not getting to bed by 8pm and thus not getting enough sleep causing you to wake up stupid will go away. It will, in time, be replaced by other anxieties that will take years to friggin' sort through. In the meantime, stop crying to Mom and Dad about it every single night. You're freaking them out."
10-Year old Danielle: "Okay. When you start 5th grade, be ready for your teacher to humiliate you in front of 5 of other kids because she is going to take offense to something harmless you said. Three days later, when angrily yelling at the whole class, she will use you as an example and actually re-tell your story from the days before, thus royally embarrassing you and scarring you for life. Make sure you're ready so you can tell her to fuck off."
12-Year old Danielle: "Go to a Kabbalah class. All hell is going to break loose and you are about to start feeling really ugly. This'll help, I promise. In the meantime, practice your toe-touches now. You are supposed to be captain of the 8th Grade Cheerleading Squad, not Ashley. If you let her get it, she's going to treat you like shit all year long and make you feel even more awkward."
13-Year old Danielle: "Stop being so competitive with the new neighbor girl, Kirsten. And for the love of god, stop bossing her around and yelling at her. She's going to end up being one of your best friends so you're just wasting time and pissing her off."
14-Year old Danielle: "Dude, Lance Bass is gay. Either get over it or keep your mouth shut and keep the *Nsync posters off your wall. Otherwise, your family and friends will never let you hear the end of it. Not even 10 years later."
15-Year old Danielle: "Don't worry, your boobs will grow. In fact they'll be a good deal bigger in college when you put on 10lbs."
16-Year old Danielle: "Don't get a speeding ticket two days after you get your license. Jackass."
18-Year old Danielle: "Don't mix tequila and beer, even if they make you. You will barf on a scary girl's bed in the sorority house and she will be really mad. Don't worry, you and Alisa will still end up being best friends, but you should probably go ahead and shoot for an early start. Stop mixing your alcohol. Seriously."
19-Year old Danielle: "Remember not to park your car in the Golds Gym lot next door. They'll tow and it'll cost you hundreds of dollars and several frantic hours in a junkyard to get it back. Apparently cars being registered to your parents makes a damn shit show of the paperwork."
20/21-Year old Danielle: "I can't really remember what you're doing but I'm guessing you are having a blast and still scoring good grades..like a boss. Carry on, carry on."
22-Year old Danielle: "I know you're bored at your new job, but you're gonna love it and it will do amazing things for your life. In the meantime, I should warn you that the company can read your emails. That guy you've been shit-talking to? Yeah, he's about to get fired and then they are going to go through his emails. Along with his unfinished business they will find an archive of your verbal diarrhea. Although you will discover, and later appreciate, your boss' tough-love mentoring style, everyone else will just think you're a jackass. Stick your head in those insurance books and keep it there."
24-Year old Danielle: "Remind Alisa that she needs to be careful where she parks outside your apartment. Otherwise, a dreadlock party is going to cost her $325 in towing and tickets, and she is not going to be happy about that one either. Oh, and regarding that one thing: Hang in there. You'll totally get it when your 25."
25-Year old Danielle: "Get your ass to sleep. You have an early day tomorrow."
Goodnight!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Blame it on Neptune
I've been reading about my generation lately. It seems like every economist, psychiatrist, mentor, parent and politician has us figured out. Or rather, they seem to understand why it is that we cannot be figured out. See, we are not lazy, but we can be loath to move until ready. We desire both success and wisdom, but are mystified as to how to get there. Most importantly, we are dependent, yet we do not know how to ask for help. Our generation seems excessively idealistic, but without a plan.
Apparently, its a Neptune thing. I recently heard that the astrological placement of this slow-moving planet has somehow shaped our dreams, ideals, and intuition, and may explain our similar confusions and disillusionments.
Whether or not this is true I do not know, but it did get me thinking.
Our generation really does over idealize everything. We have deep feelings and beliefs about our life's purpose and we all know we want to reach the top. We all know we want to be happy. What we don't know, however, is how to get there, and who we want to be when we arrive. We fantasize in pictures about achieving our goals and living the worry-free life of an accomplished person with all the time in the world to help others. Yet these dreams do not include clear pictures of ourselves. What has this ideal version of ourselves learned? What paralyzing struggles built us up to this point of success and fulfillment? If fantasies come from the ego, are we likely imagining ourselves humble? Wise? Peaceful? I doubt it.
The Facebook-era has caused us to become little more than a picture of ourselves. We fool ourselves into thinking we are who we choose to portray at any given moment. Yet, on the other end of this, we truly do have ideas and inspirations and a desire to share.
I think what gets us all so down, though, is the extreme lack of clarity on what to do next. Work a little harder on tomorrow's to-do list? Make 15 more phone calls? Save money? I get the feeling that isn't it.
I wonder if this universe, which we are all apparently trying to conquer, is trying to show us how it operates so that we might actually have a shot. Ever the idealists, we think we can build our vehicle and rise to the top alone. If it takes longer than we want, we work harder and harder until the eventual disillusionment sets in. Disillusionment, that horrible, relationship-ending, impulsive, self-defeating low. It makes you just want to move far away so you can shake things up (and re-build your little fantasy).
Little. That is what my dreams of success and accomplishment are. They are nothing more than a Facebook album or an episode of Entourage. The times I ask for help and appreciate the wisdom of others are the times I get closer to seeing how big the world really is. Oddly, it has only been in this humility that I have ever tasted any success. We have to let go of the things we think we desperately want and embrace that which we are terribly afraid of. Embrace the confusion and instability as an opportunity to test our spiritual certainty that if we let go, ask for help, and worry about the well-being of others, this universe may just worry about the well being of ourselves.
For now, we will continue the symptoms of our generation's quarter-life confusion, but I think we should do so with a little bit of the idealism we are known for. However, this time, instead of imagining ourselves as the ones who will come up with all of the answers, let's have a little faith that the world itself has the answers and, by law, we will find them if we open up, ask the right questions, and change our nature every day. That path will light up for us soon, I'm sure of it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)