Why I unfriended you on Facebook

Unfortunately, there are no classes in high school to prepare us for what life is like inside the social media bubble. Since man first inked the location of the local hunting spots, in less than 160 stick figures, on the cave wall, we've had the desire to share our our life's journey with the world. We have an innate need to share what we love, think, do, witness, believe and create.

The concept of social media in the digital age is a pretty new one. As mature members of society, it's our responsibility to determine the ground rules for acceptable behavior. Ideally, we would seek to inspire each other, grow in our relationships and enjoy the perks of being an affluent nation.

That, however, has not been my experience when using Facebook & Twitter. Instead, it's become a narrative of the mundane, inappropriate and uninspiring. So, I've decided to exact some control over the personal space inside my little bubble by removing any toxic, unneeded and undesirable participants.

Without further adieu, here are the rules I've set to determine who gets bumped from my friends list.

1. You share too much. This can be in frequency as well as content. The world doesn't want to know what you're doing every minute of every day. Do you narrate what you do out loud while you're doing it too? "Elizabeth walks to the refrigerator to get a glass of milk. I'm drinking the milk. Gulp... putting the glass in the sink..." Blah!

Also, and this is important... I don't want to know what happened the last time you had a bowel movement, and I certainly don't want details about it.

2. You lean either too far to the left, or too far to the right politically. If you have the common sense not to talk politics during family gatherings, then why would you force those same people, and many more, to listen to the same stump speech in their news feeds? People who have nothing better to do than spout political rhetoric day after day never really move forward. They end up 'walking' in circles becoming too predictable, bitter and unreachable. Stand up straight and branch out. Or don't, I've already removed you from my friends list.

3. Your status updates come with a black bar covering words or part of photos. Seriously, if you wouldn't say something that vulgar at your grandma's house, why would you want your sweet Aunt Edna to see it on Facebook? Your 13 year-old cousin doesn't need any help from you in sex-ed. Keep your porn under your mattress like your dad used to and off my iPad.

4. You're so angry, bitter and whiny that I have to take Prozac to get through one of your rants. Every post you make pushes both of us one step closer to seeing the inside of a padded room. If you're so miserable and life sucks so badly, why would you want to share that with the rest of us? You're just making the rest of us miserable too.

5. You're unbelievable. No, not like the hit song from EMF... as in, I can't believe anything you tweet. You lie. You exaggerate so much that not even your own mother is friends with you on Facebook. Be real. Social media is about being social, not making you the next cover story for the Enquirer.

Since you're now singing the lyrics to Unbelievable in your head, here's the link to the YouTube video http://youtu.be/waacof2saZw

If you've somehow found this blog and then realized that we're no longer friends on Facebook...

Well, this is awkward.


Can you think of other reasons why you would unfriend someone on social media? Feel free to add them in the comments below.

Good will always win over evil

Mothers and fathers all over the world are hugging their kids longer and tighter today. That's what we do when unthinkable things happen. Unthinkable, unspeakable... unforeseeable.

We send our children off to school in the mornings believing and praying that they will safely return to us at the end of the day. We pray the bus driver will deliver them to and from school safely. We hope that their school is indeed a safe place. We expect actual heaven-sent angels will be at their side, every step of the way.

I have first and fourth grade children. The idea that there could ever be a day touched by such horrific actions, had never before entered even the worst of my nightmares. Who could possibly contemplate a gunman walking into an elementary school and taking the lives of so many?

20 precious children, ages 6 and 7, didn't get to go home yesterday. 27 families and an entire nation scared forever by another senseless tragedy.

As a parent, you spend your entire life trying to protect your kids... trying to teach them to make good choices so that one day, they can be successful, happy adults with families of their own. It's hard-wired into our DNA; the idea that we have the ability to control what happens to us... but we don't.

My first instinct was to immediately pull my kids out of school and homeschool them until they're 30. Unfortunately,  news headlines also flashed through my head from this past year, of mall and movie theater shootings. The reality of it is, there is no true safe place. Home invasions and car accidents happen every day.

So, what do we do now?

The only thing we can. Teach our kids to pray and to enjoy life.

The world is a scary, uncontrollable place. Our children, as well as adults, need somewhere they can be 100% secure. The belief that we have an eternity to spend with our loved-ones in heaven is so powerful, that we gain strength and peace in times of great sorrow.

Do I believe the world is a more violent place today than it was two days ago?

Probably not. There have always been evil people in the world, but there have always been so many more of the good. I refuse to raise my children in fear. I'll give them the tools they need, to live the best lives they can. I'll do my best to direct their futures to fulfill their dreams. I will not raise them to think the worst in people. I will always believe good will always win over evil.

My heart aches for the families affected from the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. They will not mourn alone. Their great loss will not be forgotten. My prayers are for them tonight. May their little angels find peace in the arms of our heavenly Father.

Painting: Serenity by David Bowman

A bucket of fried chicken and a school choir

My stepdaughter Ashley was blessed with a beautiful voice. Naturally, she's been an active participant in the school choir for as long as I've known her. She loves being on stage, learning new songs, being with her friends, and knowing that her family is there in the audience watching her.

One of the most memorable performances occurred her 8th grade year, when she was 14. It was an outdoor, springtime, student-organized event. She had literally been talking about it for months ahead of time. What she failed to mention, was the length of the event. They handed me the program when we arrived, and after I got over the shock, I counted the number of acts ahead of us. There were 27! Of which she sang with the chorus, in the back row for two. 27 - 2 = 25 acts, in which she sat in the bleachers and goofed around with her friends. We sat and watched. I remember it well. I prayed for rain. "Please God, let those dark clouds bring rain." They didn't.

Three and a half hours, one teenaged magician, several extremely uncomfortable solos, duets, group songs, an interpretative dance, a line dance, and did I mention the magician... we were able to leave. It didn't take me long to realized that we were in fact held hostage, along with all the other parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and siblings... all because of common courtesy. Something I thought we were all born with.

Because no matter how badly you want to get up and leave after your child has performed, it would be considered rude in modern society to do so. So, we sat, covered our ears at times, and avoided making any eye contact or loud comments within earshot of one of the proud parents surrounding us. I left there feeling a great sense of empathy and camaraderie with my community. We had survived.

Of course, once Ashley made it to High School, she continued her study of music, and joined the choir. I arrived for her first performance her freshman year, and was pleasantly surprised that it was held in the auditorium, not a gymnasium, cafeteria or courtyard. The auditorium was beautiful, comfortable and professional. I was stoked.

Everyone took there seats, the lights dimmed and the show began. Here we go again, parents and family members banding together to muscle through another season, video cameras in one hand, and a bag of peanuts in the other? What? Seriously, the couple sitting beside us, literally pulled out a bag of peanuts. The man took a hand full, and placed them on his very large stomach to use as a table. The munching and crackling began.

I was suddenly grateful that it was a Tuesday night and my kids, who are deathly allergic to peanuts were with their dad. I became angry. Not only were these people breaking the clearly stated rules stating "No Food or Drink Allowed" posted at each entrance to the auditorium. They felt the need to add their own sound track to the music. A sound track of whispers, crackles, crunches and chewing.

Ashley is now a junior, and we've attended 2-3 performances annually. Each year, "the people" in the audience become more rude, inconsiderate, self-centered and brazen. What happened to the warm, gooey, camaraderie I had felt during the three and a half hours of torture we had shared years before? Don't these people want to support their children? Why can't they just shut up? Didn't their parents teach them manners?

Although I tried to get out of attending the Fall Concert just a few weeks ago, Ashley insisted that I be there. She's in show choir now, and had been putting in a lot of hours, and energy into following her dream. I did really want to be there for her, even if I really didn't want to deal with the people. So we went. I knew that the performances would be light years better than what we witnessed in Middle School, but I also knew that the people in the audience were the most inconsiderate, thoughtless people I've had the pleasure to share a zip code with.

I had given up anyone following the clearly posted rules at the door, and decided if they weren't going to, then why should I? So although my conscience plagued me, I brought my large sweet tea in with me, and carefully stowed it under my chair. I had run into Ashley and her friend in the hall outside the auditorium as I was trying to finish my tea before I went in. She suggested that I just bring it in with me. She told me a local urban legend that had been passed around the show choir for the last several years. Legend was, a family brought in an actual bucket of fried chicken and passed it up and down the aisle during the performances. The entire auditorium reeked of the Colonel's secret recipe. So I figured, a sweet tea is pretty harmless compared to chicken legs and greasy fingers.

Again, the lights dimmed, students took the stage, and immediately, the talking behind us began. The most incredible example of white trash the south side of Indy could produce was sitting earshot right behind us. The man looked as if he just finished beating up 6th graders for their lunch money, and he picked up some new teeth for his wife from the dumpster in the back on the way in. At least he sure smelled like it. I tried to ignore them, and their smell. I made it about 4 songs.

I turned around several times and glared. This normally works with my children, and was sadly disappointed when they seemed not to get the hint and shut up. I even raised my eyebrow, giving them "the look". Prior to Ashley taking the stage, there may have been heated words exchanged. At this point, I'm fuming angry that we couldn't just sit and enjoy Ashley's stellar singing and dancing. Suddenly I also wished that the school had metal detectors at the door. We were indeed encountering the thug life.

I keep thinking, "These people are raising children!", "These people are raising children?". What kind of example is being provided for our future leaders and citizens? When the parents don't have the ability to recognize the need for the greater good, and are constantly put their own selfish needs before others, where does that leave their kids?

When did we become a society and that no longer cares about the most basic considerations for others? More importantly, is there anyway to course correct and regain the common ground we once used to share. I have to believe that the individual desires, hopes and dreams that we all share for our children's future becomes the bond and the goal we all reach towards, even if it's unknowingly.

Until then, we'll be there in the audience to cheer on Ashley through the rest of her show choir career. She's definitely worth it.

My cocoon of white noise

Today was a very special day at the office. One that signified a bigger, brighter future for our little island of misfit toys. I got to trade my shared cubicle space with no doors in for a shared office with two doors. Two doors that close to be exact. After spending the last three years working in a bullpen with all my other coworkers and hearing every conversation, every ringing phone, every sneeze, every throat clearing, every footstep, every copy made and every flush of the toilet... I've been set free by a wall, two doors and white noise. The constant whirl of the air conditioning sounds like we're sitting directly under a jet engine just before take off. Please don't misunderstand me, I'm not complaining about the noise. It's rather wonderful.

You see, the beauty of white noise, is that it's just loud enough to drown out all the sounds that distract you throughout the day, but not loud enough to make you want to throw yourself off a balcony. It wraps you in a warm cocoon of pillows and teddy bears and allows you to focus on the task at hand. So now, whether designing an ad, answering the phone or planning a marketing strategy, my time is finally my own. I think it's just possible to move those mountains I've been putting off.

I may have complained just a bit about the lack of privacy, and constant mental and physical distractions over the last few years; but forcing us to share a space has helped us learn so much more about each other and grow closer than we ever could have before. So although I'm thrilled to be able to focus on work, while I'm at work, I will miss the constant laughter, arguments and life that we shared before I entered my cocoon of white noise. Heck, I may go ahead and suggest that we all sit in a circle tomorrow and sing kumbaya. If we do, I'll be sure to video tape it and post it on Facebook.