This is My Standing Space, This is Your Standing Space

I'll admit it, I watched Dirty Dancing twice last week. Because Baby just has to be taken out of the corner every once in a while. But really, we're gathered here today so I can talk with you about movie theatre etiquette. Or really Being in Public etiquette. Because, seriously. I went to the movies the other night with Dizzle, and as we are standing in line to get our tickets, the woman behind me literally climbed into my back pocket and made herself at home. So much so that while I was trying to talk to Dizzle, I was very clearly hearing about how this 90 pound woman weighed A LOT when she lived in England. Like, the same that she does now. I'm positive this is what she said because she said it at least three times while she helped me hold my purse. So help me, I almost had one of my moments that makes K look like she wants to hide, and turned around to tell the chick that she was making me very uncomfortable, and could she please back up or at least pay for my ticket if we were in a date. Because she was close enough I felt like we were on one. Why do people do that? SPACE people. Pretend you're in Texas. Wide open spaces and hat rims that help people remember to keep their distance. Also guns. That will be used on you if you don't climb the heck out of my back pocket.

So we find our seats in the theatre, and it's not very crowded. Tons of seats. And a group of four comes in, and picks our row, where we are the only two people. And the woman leading the way comes RIGHT up to Dizzle, and basically forces Janelle to give up her purse seat so that she can sit RIGHT next to us. Has this woman never heard of a buffer chair. Everyone knows about the buffer chair. You don't sit right next to people. That's just weird.

I tell you, in my day, we behaved all civilized. What's this world coming to?

Ways to Spot People You Should Not Trust

Today at Hollibery school we are talking about trust. These are some good'uns that I've seen used by my clients, questionable friends, and teenagers everywhere.... Here are some red flags when considering which friends you can trust to keep your deep dark secrets.

1. If they like to gossip about other friends when you are there, consider the fact that you might be the topic of gossip when you are not there. Which brings me to...
2. If they start sentences with "Susie told me not to tell anyone this, but...". This might be an indicator that their promises to keep secrets are conditional, and might be broken due to fall-outs, shifts in mood, or the weather.
3. If you see them lie to other people, and wouldn't know that they were lying if you didn't know the truth about the topic.
4. If you have seen them use other people's secrets as ammo against that person to get what they want.
5. If they say things like "I don't really want to spend time with her..." and then are constantly spending time with her. And they say it about multiple people. Because, what are they saying when they spend time with you?

My little teenager that volunteers with me right now at my work was telling me about just some of these dilemmas the other day. Ah, the loyalty of friends. So refreshing.

You Need to Think About This.

I was fortunate to be able to participate in a fascinating two day workshop focusing on Racism this week. I learned some fascinating things, and also some very sad things. One of the suggested resources was this video.



How sad is that? Little Kindergartners think their skin color means they are bad, and would rather play with the white doll. Teenage girls hate their own skin color and think it makes them ugly. I mean, I know white girls that think they are too pale and will therefore tan, but this goes so much deeper.

This was just one of the things we discussed. I'm going to blog more about it later, because I think it's a fascinating topic and one that we should be thinking about more, since obviously the issue of racism has not gone away.

Tips for Being an Effective Community Helper

I never used to understand WHY it takes a training to learn what it means to volunteer, or how to best do it. People will literally spend hours talking about this in my line of work. In some ways that makes me want to take my head and bang it soundly against a blunt object until blessed unconsciousness overcomes me. But here's the thing: a lot of people suck at planning service projects.

If there is one thing that you remember about planning a group service project/donation drive/we're going to fix the world fest, remember to ask this one question: Is this actually needed?

Silly, right? That's just common sense, right? Turns out not so much. I cannot tell you how many different groups I have worked with who have not asked this basic question. I've sat in both on the planning, and been the one they contacted. And often the planning goes like this:

You know what would be fun? We should knit a bunch of hats! That would be so fun! Okay, so, um, who wants to figure out where to donate them and call them to find out where to drop them off?

People. People. People. No one wants your hats. Or at least you don't know if that's what they want. They might want your hats a little bit. They might possibly just take them in hopes that you will go away, because, yes, eventually they will use them, along with all the other hats. But they might more desperately want spoons. And wouldn't a spoon drive be fun? But you wouldn't think of that right off the bat. Because who collects spoons? That's what makes it so brilliant, though!

Here's how you might want to think about starting the discussion:

What are some needs we see in our community? What organization that
addresses the problem can we contact to see how we can best contribute
resources? Let's call them and then reconvene to plan our project based on
what we learn.

It's crazy talk I know.

Let's all Go to the Fair! Also internment.

I'm late in posting this, but it has been whirling around in my mind for a while. I went to the Puyallup Fair back in September (thanks, Dizzle for hooking me up with the tickets!). The Puyallup Fair, also known as the Western Washington State Fair, is a super fun fair, and I think it's the biggest in Washington. I could totally be making that up, but I can't find anything on the site that refutes that, so it must be true. I have great memories of the fair. I held a boy's hand there once. Also he let me hold his Harley Davidson bandanna while he went on the roller coaster. That's romance, my friends. And no, that wasn't last year, smarty pantses, it was when I was a young hoodlum. That was also the time my friend almost got kicked out of the fair for whapping one of those people in a big animal costume on the back of the head. Turns out they have little body guards that follow them around. Who knew? I think the dude was hanging back in hopes of entrapping teenagers in the act of fake animal abuse. Because you know at least one teenage boy would try something. Helloooo.

But enough reminiscing. Every year when I go to the fair, that is what I do. I remenisce. Also I ponder how you spell the word reminisce. You think you know, but try typing it in a blog. The other thing I ponder when I go to the fair, ever since I first discovered the existence of such a thing, is Japanese internment camps. I remember I was in my 9th grade Pacific Northwest History class, and in one of the sections, we talked about how the Puyallup Fair grounds were used to house Japanese-Americans during World War II. To which I said, "Wait, WHAT??? No one told me that. That's never in the movies."

I find it interesting that the fact that we had actual internment camps for US Citizens who had committed no crimes in the US is so seldom mentioned. It's mentioned so little that I couldn't remember any of the details I most likely learned at one point, and I had to go to my trusty Internet source. I love (and by love I mean hate) that they called the fairgrounds Camp Harmony during it's internment years. According to this trusted source, the Japanese Americans who settled on Bainbridge Island were given six days to register, sell or rent their homes and farms, pack, and surrender to travel under armed guard to California, where they would spend the next four years. I don't know about you, but I would be cranky. From everything I have read or heard, the Japanese Americans were cooperative, and were treated fairly respectfully. But they were still prisoners. For doing nothing. They lost years out of their lives, I'm sure many of them lost property and businesses and life experiences and all sorts of things. And yet, somehow, most of them have gone on to live their lives quietly, and continued to embrace the country that showed so little faith in them.

Ten Essentials for the Elite Hiker

1. Bottle of Evian to parch your thirst.
2. stylish windbreaker to, you know, break the wind and make your butt look good.
3. A Swiss army knife with doodads and whatnots because I hear those are handy in the wilderness and such.
4. A walking stick. Because serious hikers have a walking stick. Specifically one that they bought at a store with varnish and carvings and stuff.
5. A backpack to carry your trail mix, camera, and backup windbreaker for when the first one gets old.
6. Tennis shoes to carry in your backpack for when you get tired of wearing your flip flops.
7. I-phone for the map app.
8. hand-held fan mister.
9. Sunglasses to prevent wrinkles around the eyes.
10. Handy beacon for when you get lonely or bored.

If you don't get why this is the silliest hiking essentials list ever, do NOT plan a hike that requires said beacon. You don't want to win the kind of award they give out for that.

Catchin' the Crazy Cooties

So, ever since the criminally insane man escaped at the fair, I've been holding something in. Crazy, I know, since I'm usually the source of many a socially awkward moment filled with inappropriately blunt comments. Or at least that is what I strive for.

I have heard far too many people say that it's outragous that mentally ill people were let loose at the fair. Um, let me reiterate. And I quote: "patients discharged from psychiatric facilities who did not abuse alcohol and illegal drugs had a rate of violence no different than that of their neighbors in the community."

All I'm saying's that the term mentally ill is not interchangeable with the word dangerous. Most mentally ill people are not dangerous. And you interact with mentally ill people all the time. They don't all hear voices.

But seriously, who takes criminally insane killers to the fair?

You Know Who Looks Goofiest?

I've been ruminating lately on your typical American adult's reaction to mental illness. There is a lady who is often seen standing outside of my office. She's generally fairly clean, although her hair sometimes looks a little wild and her clothes are often mismatched. As she stands at the curb, she has loud arguments. With thin air. To your average passer-by (or bus patron, because there's a bus stop), she's a little intimidating. She's very accusatory in her arguments, and if you are in her eye line you question at first if she is angry at you for some fictional act that she is convinced you carried out. This can be a little scary, because she can sometimes be verbally aggressive and gesture wildly. But I've never seen her invade anyone's personal space, and her intent is not to harm anyone. I'm not sure who she is arguing with, or if they are really an actual person somewhere in the world. But having gotten to "know" her by seeing her every day, I see that she has some mental issues, possibly triggered by some horrible damage done to her earlier in her life, or possibly just brought on by lack of medical treatment and support.

Today as I was going about my work, I passed by her several times as she ranted on the sidewalk. She usually will spend a little time doing this, and then move on. There was a group of three women who appeared to be tourists, or at least women who had broken their normal routine and come into a part of the city they did not often traverse. The first time I passed by, two were doing their best to ignore her, but the third looked rather alarmed, as though she thought the woman was angry at her. The second time I passed by, she seemed to have figured out that the woman was in fact angry at an invisible adversary. The third time I passed by, she had the giggles. Look at that funny crazy lady. She has obviously lost her mind.

I know that mentally ill people can be scary, especially since their illness doesn't manifest itself like many physical illnesses and disabilities manifest themselves, and you're generally not able to ascertain what ails them or how it will impact their behavior. You've seen on TV and in movies how the moods of crazy people can turn on a dime, and suddenly they are having a psychotic break and trying to kill you, and it can be easy to imagine the worst will happen.

In reality, the majority of mentally ill people are not violent. I think that it is our responsibility as adults living in a complex society to try to understand mental illness. Chances are, you know at least one person with a mental illness, whether you think you do or not. Some have been diagnosed, some have not. Chances are that if six people are reading this blog (which would be terribly exciting), at least one has been diagnosed with a mental illness at one point or another in their life, whether it is an issue today or has been treated. To stay in the dark about what it means to be mentally ill is a risky thing to do. At some point in your life, someone you love and care about, to some degree or another, will need your understanding. I recommend the website found at the above link for online information. I'm sure there's probably some other ones out there, but this is the most extensive and informative site I have found.

What makes me just a little sick inside is seeing people who have not just discomfort written all over their face when they are near mentally ill people, but disgust. The look seems to communicate that they think the person should have kept a better grip on their sanity. Or it could also be interpreted to mean that they think they are going to catch the person's crazy. Generally this is not case, unless you count things like untreated Syphilis, which leads to insanity if untreated. To me, that look of disdain and distaste is not only disappointing, but offensive. Also prideful. Who are you to think you are so whole and perfect that you can't empathise with the outward manifestations of the confusion and pain? I'm not saying the empathy and understanding come naturally, because I don't think they do; not with most people, myself included. But those traits are something we should develop as we grow into responsible adults and contributing members of society. So go ahead, giggle if you feel uncomfortable. It's a natural result for some people, myself included. But then maybe go home and read a book about mental illness, or take a class, or subscribe to a reliable blog.

Thank You, Dr. Oprah!

I just heard Dr. Oprah say the smartest thing. She was talking to obese children and their parents who weren't sure how they got that way. I kind of stumbled in on it, so she might have been quoting someone, but I'll just attribute it to her. She suggested that eating healthy is a shift of thinking. You think that fruits and vegies are too expensive, compared to crappy processed food? How about buying less video games for your kid who sits in front of the tv all the time (better yet, craigslist the tv, etc, you got for their room and gain money) and devoting that money to your grocery budget in order to make it more healthy. Also, I've done some of my cheapest grocery shopping of all time during My Time of Unemployment, and I managed to spend LESS than normal. How? First I bought the fruits and vegies that were in season (which affects their price) and on SALE. Also, I didn't overbuy as much, because I can't leave fruit and vegies on the shelf and come back in six months to revisit the thought of eating them, like the four boxes of crackers I have shoved in the back of my cupboard. Now excuse me while I go look for my chocolate.

You Say Potato, I Say Chipotle

I was thinking the other day about chipotle chilies, wondering what exactly a chipotle was, other than the name of a restaurant that makes fabulous chips and guacamole. In wikiworld, they tell me it's a dried jalapeno which has turned red, which apparently they do if you let them ripen long enough. Question answered. Then I realized that there is something about the word Chipotle that has always bothered me: the fact that my parents pronounce it Chip-OAT-lee. Emphasis on the oat, of course. But I always thought it was Chip-OAT-lay. Wikipedia says my parents' pronunciation is right. I thought that could not possibly be, so I looked here because I knew that they have the handy dandy little speaker you can click on to hear a human being pronounce your word of choice. There are two different speakers, a man and and a woman, and they both agree with me on pronunciation, however one of the definitions says that a chipotle is a pungent red pepper and the other says it is a jalapeno. Get it together, dictionary dot com. Wiki, did you fail me? I had to find a tie breaker.

This website I feel fairly confident is posting correct information, being that they're one of the best known dictionaries. They say that I am more right, although they also give a variation on the pronunciation, cheep-OAT-lay. That's at least fun to say.

So we've established that my parents and all you out there who are pronunciation challenged need to take elocution lessons from me, given my expertise. I would also like to establish that jalapenos are gross. Even given the passion with which I love me some Chipotle steak burrito with their yummy, yummy chips and guacamole, my spice tolerance does not expand much further. And I think that really, jalapeno eaters are showing a part of their true character that is best left hidden. You should not flaunt that kind of sickness.

Dizzle, it's not a very strong rant, but that one was for you.

P.S. Blogger does not believe that chipotle is a word. It suggest instead that I substitute the word chortle. Which is a fun word. Chortle chortle chortle.

Poor Mona

I feel that my education was surely lacking in the art history arena, since it was not until today that I learned that people like to vandalize the Mona Lisa. Did you know that:

1. It was stolen in 1911 from the Louvre, and the true thief, an Italian who believed it should be displayed in Italy, was not discovered until two years later when he tried to sell it? Also, the first suspect, who did not turn out to be involved, had threatened to burn down the Louvre in the past.
2. In 1956, it was damaged when someone threw acid on it?
3. Later in 1956 someone threw a rock at it?
4. On August 2, 2009, a deranged woman threw a mug at it, and was taken to a psychiatric institution, where it was determined that she was mad at France for not taking her as a citizen. The good news is, the museum finally wised up and installed bulletproof glass in front of the painting.

It's all true. The Internet told me so.

Important Facts from a Template

So my apartment complex sends out a nice template newsletter each month along with those treasures they type up themselves that I have already quoted from. In it, you can read all kinds of random facts which pretty much have nothing to do with where you live.

Like, did you know that if you have stale chips, you can put them in the microwave for 30 seconds, let them stand for a minute, and they will be crisp again? How handy is that? I don't know if I can bring myself to eat even once-stale chips, because I have a huge aversion to old crackers and chips, but maybe....

Also, strawberries have some of the natural ingredients found in aspirin. So possibly eating some could help that nasty headache!

June 1st is National Go Barefoot Day. Then you clean out your closet and donate your shoes to http://www.soles4souls.org/. I bet they would still take them, even though it's not June 1st. And I give you permission to go barefoot today. Have your boss call me if he/she has any questions (Dizzle I dare you).

Who knew!? (Yes, smarty pants, I'm sure one of you knew at least one of these facts. Go ahead. Brag.)

(facts provided by Illustratus)

I'm Rubber, You're Glue

I don't understand people who are entertained by seeing their friends stress. I am a worrier, which some people seem to find amusing, and to toy with. I, on the other hand, worry that something I have said or done will upset a friend. I do not understand why something that I have expressed that clearly hurts me (and in my opinion, by extension, our relationship) is something that they are okay with continuing on with. I've decided that said people have the same characteristic in common: they suck at listening. Apparently they don't think I'm serious. I am.

I think there should be clear, written rules about teasing for all grownups to use. We should have a safe word. Like lickety split. Okay, that's two words. My point is, if teasing is hurtful, it's not funny anymore. I think one of the big no-no's is teasing in front of groups of people, especially if you know it's a huge flaw. Especially if you know it's something the person is sensitive about. To me, if I see one friend do that to another friend, I know the teaser is not a very good friend to the tease-ee. It shows insecurity on the part of the teaser. When eight year olds do it, we sagely point that out to them. Why is it that we still do it as adults, then?

If someone tells you they don't like it when you tease them constantly about... let's say their moments of ditziness, that is the same thing as saying "lickety split." That means stop.

Be Prepared. It's Not Just for the Boy Scouts.

Today I need to talk to you about a serious event that is looming in the not-so-distant horizon. As my family and friends, I want you all to be prepared for this undeniable eventuality. Specifically, the world is going to end in three years.

It's true. I googled it. Not only is there an informative movie, but there is this book, this book (which is more about how our global consciousness will change as we change out our calendars, so no death in that one, possibly--sounds pretty far-fetched to me), and this Newsweek article. And clearly, Newsweek is saying we are all going to die. I'm frankly surprised the media is being so irresponsible and not reporting this with the urgency that they should. I would think at least my boyfriend Anderson would.

What do I do, you ask? Why, join the lottery, of course. Space is filling up, as you can see from the handy little graph on the left. There appears to be quite a bit left in North America, but obviously those spaces will go like hotcakes after the informative movie comes out. I know I want to secure my place in the subterranean city in Antartica.*

Also, keep up on your reading. It's good to be informed.


*This site is created by Sony for their movie. Don't get too excited.

A Very Serious Illness.

This is a Public Service Announcement. You may be sick and not even know it. This is a serious illness, right up there with Swine Flu. The illness I refer to is Married People Malady, or MPM.

Here are the symptoms of MPM:
1. Think sending a Christmas card/letter is keeping in contact.
2. Create a blog for two purposes, and two purpose only: to talk about their kids more, and to excuse themselves from ever calling you again, because they are Married People now, and also Very Busy Parents. Hey, you can stalk them online, so what are you complaining about?
3. They create a blog and DON'T tell you, but tell your other friends, so you see their link on a mutual friend's blog. Hypothetically. And hypothetically I'm not bitter.
4. They send out periodic mass emails to "keep in touch" with everyone since they are so busy, and ask you to respond individually and let them know what's been going on in your life because... you are... not so busy? This, my friends, is when my Single Hackles go up. Except right now, since I'm unemployed and only have half a life. So feel free to ask me, because you will get a five page response. But usually? Totally busy. And STILL manage to keep up with my friends who send me real emails.
5. Act like they haven't been a "kid" for 40 or 50 years, when in fact, they were in college less than ten years ago. Of course, I know single people like this too. But it's the part where they have kids and all the sudden they start acting old.
6. They forget how to use Instant Messaging, even though their primary location for sending messages was at work, which has not changed at all. Apparently talking to single ladies about things like work and the weather is bad when you are married. Even for wifeys.
7. They have parties that they invite all their couple friends to. And not you. Although, if they really have MPM, and they do invite you, they behave like this:



P.S. If you do feel the urge to invite me, you better invite an only slightly taken Mr. Darcy, who likes me just as I am.

And as an ode to my current Saturday night plans, minus the alcohol and cigarette, but probably with the lypsynching and the Frasier.

One Way or Another I'm Gonna Find Ya

You learn about all kinds of interesting things when you are unemployed. Like what's going on with John and Kate (of plus 8 fame), and what the latest beauty queen scandal is. And how to cyberstalk people. I learned this valuable tidbit at a career fair I attended yesterday. You know that I am a fan of googling myself, just to see what is out there in the world about me. They say that you should do this occassionally. You never know when your prospective employer (or current employer) might fancy googling you. But what I did not know, and perhaps some of you didn't know, is that there is a people search engine that is more focused than google and pulls up information on people. It's kind of eery the things I found on myself. Including another picture directory listing my cell phone number for all to see from my beloved slightly naive friend who seems to "accidentally" post these things on the web.

Now, before you go freaking out that personal information about you is probably posted about you on the web, and everyone is going to steal your identity and stalk you, let me assure you that the majority of you really didn't have much available. You might want to search your name, though. I'm kind of sad because so far I have not run across any criminal records for any of you yet. I did run across a few criminal records on google when I searched random people a while ago, so in that way google is a more fun way to look people up.

I do find this tool fascinating. By just entering in one of my former co-worker's name (chosen because her name is unique), I learned four things:
1. Where she works, and what her job title is.
2. That she is a member of the ALA (American Library Association).
3. That she and her husband donated to the public library in 2006 (very cool).
4. That she spoke at a city council meeting in 2006.

See, that's not so creepy, and very interesting. If I were looking to hire her, this might be good information.

Searching my name produces very little, outside of that blasted directory that WILL get taken down permanently if I have to throw bananas at her till she figures out how not to post things online.

Other fun things I learned:
1. One of my friends was quoted in an article in 2006 because she got a shot to protect her from the HPV virus (and then requoted in an article online disputing the findings about the vaccine cited in the first article).
2. One of my past coworkers I lost track with is living in Seattle and working at a senior center. And she still looks the same. There was a picture.
3. You can sometimes find obituaries this way. I found my brother-in-law's father's obituary. It was very nice.
4. If you want to know how to hide on the internet, ask my big sister. She has hardly any listings even though she's got a very unique name. There is someone with her exact name in Cornwall, though. I found that interesting.
5. I've done a good job of keeping my email addresses off the internet.

I hope that you have learned something new today. I know I have.

To Wear or Not To Wear...

I have called you all together today to talk to you about a very important issue. The issue: wearing underwear. Apparently some girls put a question mark at the end of those two words. As in, wearing underwear? Should I? To which I say, I know your momma taught you better than that! (Please, no momma bashing)

I like to stay up on imporant world news, so I frequently check the news on cnn.com. Today, there is a story posted regarding some controversy at a Florida High School. A sixteen year-old girl apparently chose to go commando the day of club pictures. She had a cute little green dress on, and claims she was concerned about unsightly lines. This week, when the seniors received their yearbooks, people were quick to observe that she had gone commando, since she was seated in the first row of a club picture. It sounds like it's arguable if you can see anything, but still, mortifying.

The mom is understandably upset, and the girl in question is horrified, as you can imagine. Mom is demanding that the school collect all the yearbooks, not distribute anymore, and reprint them all. I'm willing to bet that will not happen. I don't know what the budget for a yearbook printing would be, but I seem to recall I paid upwards of 20 dollars for each of my high school yearbooks. So multiply that by your whole student body and that's a lot of money to come up with. Added to that, there will inevitably be seniors who won't surrender the original copy. Some will want it because they think it is funny, and some will have already had their friends sign their yearbooks. Even if they could find a way to force all the seniors to surrender the yearbook, some dink will probably make a photo copy. Or scan it in and post it somewhere, if that hasn't already happened.

I feel for this girl. I really do. Studies show that teenagers, even the ones who carry themselves like adults, are still developing some of their decision making skills, and they don't always use common sense. Embarrasing things are bound to happen. I'm sure you can think of a thing or two you did in high school that you hope people have forgotten by now. Imagine having it in print (I am hoping for your sake it is not), or worse, posted on the internet.

This incident is the last straw. My friends, I must insist that we have an underwear awareness workshop for all teenage girls. My message would be as follows: Paris and Lindsay may do it, but it's not cool, girls! You know from their experience what happens when you combine going commando, a dress, and a camera; learn from that! I don't know if you are aware of this, but they make underwear appropriate for hiding unsightly lines. This is what we need to educate our girls about. Also, even then, let's learn how to sit like a lady.

Misused Terms for 100, Alex.

People need to be educted on the correct use of the term "guilty pleasures." I hereby appoint myself to be your teacher. Yes, I'm talking to you. YOU. Right there.

(Brief intermission while I sing along with the Mini Sirloin Burgers commercial again... look at the tiny cows! They're so TINY!)

You see, class, guilty pleasures are things that you are a little bit embarrassed to admit you like, if you admit it at all. I just read the longest post (okay, I read the first sentence of the longest post and then navigated away in disgust) about the A Team being a guilty pleasure for uncounted masses. Um, I do not feel guilty. I embrace the A-Team. And I pity the fool who thinks there is need for shame.

Also, fetish. So many people say fetish when they really mean aversion. Example, if you don't like the sight of feet, don't want to touch them, and would like to lob everyone's off, you have an AVERSION to feet, not a foot fetish. A foot fetish is where you LIKE feet, want to touch them, and possibly lick them. Imagine what kind of random google hits my blog will get now.

Your assignment: Write a 200 word essay on what a guilty pleasure is, with examples. I want it on my desk by tomorrow.

Class dismissed.

Texting: It's the New Note

Remember in junior high school, when we would write notes to our friends, and fold them up in magical little shapes that we practiced and prided ourselves on, with little tabs that said "pull?" I have often looked back nostalgically on those days. I love the creation of email, but I sometimes feel pity for kids nowadays, who don't write notes. But then it dawned on me- they text! It's totally the new note. Let's examine what we said then (and by we I mean me and my friends in junior high school) and what they say now.


Then: Phbbbbbbbbblt. (with smiley face sticking out tongue)
Now: :p


Then: He he he he he.
Now: LOL

Then: HA HA HA HA HA HA
Now: ROFL (or my favorite, ROFLCOPTER, meaning rolling on the floor laughing and spinning around).

Then: I don't get it.
Now: ?

Then: Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. (and yes, I wrote whole notes of this)
Now: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Then: BFF
Now: BFF (or BFFN--best friends for now)

Then: Wassup?
Now: Sup

And then there are the ones that apparently some kids use to pull one over on their parents. My personal opinion is that this is an age old craft, and if they think you have figured it out they will think of another way to hide things if it's that important to them. I myself had a number language with a good friend once. Although that was not so much to hide anything as it was to entertain ourselves. The only thing that scares me about this particular part of texting/IMing, is that Doctor Phil drew to light the fact that sometimes they are talking to people they don't know, more so online than texting, and it could be a pedophile. But it's probably just their friend who likes to cuss or talk dirty.

The Care and Management of Teenagers

Just out of curiousity, which parent is letting their teenagers wander around the neighborhood at midnight? Because your kids were playing frogger on the busy four lane road in dark clothing as I was driving home. Obvoiusly they are not ready to be let out alone yet.

I always wonder what the parents are like who allow their kids to do things like that. I want to have a talk with them, and explain to them that teenagers don't need you to be their friend. They have friends. They need you to set rules, and be their parents. I know that we don't generally look back at our teenage years and think, gosh, I really wish my parents had restricted me more. Or gee, I'm glad they had rules! At least, not until we get older, and have children in our lives that we worry about. And I'm not suggesting that parents don't give their teenagers some freedom to take risks, but they shouldn't just take risks willy nilly. There have been studies, people. Very good ones. You are there to teach them to be responsible, caring adults, who have good decision making skills. Yes, they need to make some decisions on their own, and be in charge of themselves more and more. If they are developing those decision-making skills at midnight with their friends in the dark between games of frogger, do you think that will help them more than being at home with you in the middle of the night? Possibly getting some sleep? Because they also need more sleep. And more sleep will help them make better decisions, like not running across a busy road at midnight in dark clothes because the cute boy you like is telling you to.

No, I'm not a parent. But I was a teenager. Also I work with them. And read studies about them all the time. And take classes about them, because every two years they seem to change and want totally different things, have different slang words, qualify different things as cool and uncool, and listen to different music. It's exhausting to keep up, I tell you. So I'm not saying I will succeed grandly as a parent of a teenager. But my hope is my kid won't be the one playing frogger at midnight.