What Happens If You Are Both The Turtle And The Hare?

If you look at my archives you will see that I went dark for a number of months.  I was very busy negotiating our local teacher's union contract and producing a big fashion show for one of my clients.  I wasn't inspired to write here, but even more puzzling, I was not interested in reading any of the blogs that I normally follow.  I was having trouble focusing on another business idea that I had.  Other than emailing and/or researching things on the internet, I wasn't even really online.

So I seriously began to wonder, because I am of a certain age, if I was starting to become more luddite and less Steve Jobs-like.    Would my tiny bit of Twittering and blogging really keep me plugged into social media, from a job hunting perspective?  Would my use of a 2nd generation smartphone hold me back in a significant way? Because Heather, the Queen of all Working Mother Bloggers was twittering and blogging from any Foursquared location she liked.

Oh, I haven't dropped the big one on you.

I am one of the 2 people on the planet, above the age of 13, that isn't gaga over Facebook.

In fact, one of the most popular phrases in my lexicon, is "F*ck Facebook!"

But....I couldn't help wonder if FB was fcking me (over) as it, and Twitter, are the Google and Amazon of this era of the Internet.  And, if I wasn't the doyenne of social media, who would hire me?  Heather has the social media world by the tail.  Why was I so much like Tippy when I'm usually the Roadrunner?

I was vexed.  Very vexed.

But then things turned around.  The contract was settled. The Guru is making progress.

And you are reading this now.

Of This and Of That

I think my first post touched on the fact that my grandfather was a newspaper man and that he wrote a column for the Decatur (IL) Herald, entitled Of This and Of That.  He was an editor and columnist and when I was the editor of my college newspaper he would send issues back to me marked-up in red pencil. 

I am horrified to find type-o's in my Twitter feeds and I haven't figured out how to delete my tweets (yes, I just typed that god-awful word) when I send them from TweetDeck.  (I can delete the offending tweet and resend a corrected one when I am signed into Twitter, but I'll be covering the topic of signing in shortly.)  And, not only was my grandfather an English major and newspaper editor, my mom is an English major and grammarian on steroids.

I am the weakest link in that chain...


I have ideas for blog posts that roll around in my head and some may not be interesting as an individual post...so I think I'll throw them in an occasional "Of This and Of That" post to get them out of my head.

Topic #1.  Password Rage.

I have it.

It's the anger that I feel when my browser or an application (like Blogger) has saved my login ID and password for me so I never have to type them in.  That's lovely.....most of the time.  It's not so lovely when I'm at another computer and I want to log in.  It's not so great when the application (like Blogger) stops saving it and makes my type it in.

I spent 20+ years working in bank technology.

My password is not my kids' names, my maiden name, my phone number, my house number, His birthday etc.

My passwords kick ass.  They are combinations that Stephen Hawking wouldn't have dreamed up.

BUT I CAN'T REMEMBER THEM WHEN THE 'SAVIORS' FORGET THEM!!!!!!

yeah, yeah, yeah....they are written down.

They are in written form, in a place so secret that I CAN'T REMEMBER WHERE THE HELL IT IS!
And, no, I don't want you to reset my password so I can, yet again, come up with another kick-ass password.

I have Password Rage.

Topic #2  I am a City Girl at heart.

I get giddy when I'm in the city.  I swear that little ditty just flowed out-ta me!!!

I was staying overnight (yippee, overnight in the city!) in the city a few weeks ago and I love staring out of my hotel window and surveying who's doing what or what's what in the buildings across from me.  During this stay I could see lots and lots of sewing rooms, a la Project Runway, with no students but lots of lights on (all night) and machines and dress forms.

I even scoped out where He and I can move or stay when we move away (no retire...) to FL after the kids are gone.  It's going to be the south side of the city.  The new, gentrified south side.  That's the City Girl in me. 

I'm a south side girl at heart.

Unblocking the Blogger's Block

I'm back.
I was unblocked by this.
Now I can't remember what I wanted to say about it.  I do remember wanting to write something about how my local ice cream joint has a Facebook page and I couldn't figure out why....even after looking at the page....I couldn't decide why anyone would really want to visit their page unless there was a coupon/discount code involved.

I am an official Facebook lurker.  I'm on it under an alias thinking that my kids would allow me to link to them without being obviously ID'd as their mom.  The Boy won't have anything to do with me, although I can be a friend to his band's page.  The Girl, 7th grade, cannot be on Face book yet.   It's just another avenue for spineless bullies and the crap texts that she gets periodically from other kids are enough to deal with.  And don't get me started on the 300 (total) students from my high school that are looking for people like me.  I don't want to be found - I'm in touch with the people I care about thank you very much.

Of This and Of That:

 Mrs. O's eyebrows are still bugging me.

And, if you are a RHOC fan, this site is brilliant.  My friend and I were talking about how we'd love to buy a print, but I'm not sure I want to own one forever...but I love the concept and execution.

What We're Leaving For Them

I come from a family of letter writers - mainly on my mom's side.

Even though my mom's first reaction to bloggers (based on the snippets I emailed her - she has limited web access) was that they were being self-absorbed, it occurred to me that blogs may, if they are archived/preserved through the future iterations of technology, be the primary documents that historians will examine to learn about these generations.

I went to college (1980) an hour away from my parents and we wrote letters to each other - phoning was used only in an emergency. My mom saved the letters and postcards that I wrote to them in college, and the letters and postcards from high school and college trips to Europe. She has given them back to me and I'm saving them for my kids and their kids.

I have the letters from my first serious boyfriend and from my second serious boyfriend (that would be "Mr. Savage"). They will be shared with The Boy and The Grrl when they start asking more questions about "the olden days" as they call them.

Eventually the archive will be implanted in the body - some sort of microchip with everything you need to know.

It's the iMe.