Playground Politics? Really.

Mamacita says:  Let’s start the New Year with some opinionated rants.

I am not an A-list blogger/social network updater.

I’ve always been more than just a little bit quirky and nerdy, and I still am. I don’t care. I’ve never been cool. Not then, not now. I don’t care. (much)

In my Reader/friend list/etc. are people whose writing I read regularly. Are they A-listers? I don’t know. I don’t care, either. They are people I like, and even love, with blogs/updates/etc. I find interesting.

Would I delete any of them, and replace them with A-list people, so there would be nothing but the cool kids in my Reader/Facebook/Twitter/etc.? No. Why would I do that? I don’t blog to be cool. (good thing, huh.) I blog because “it’s” in me and “it” wants to get out. My blog is like a friend. It’s THERE for me. And since I went all WordPress, it really IS always there for me. I also blog for businesses.  I go all watchdog on their comments, too, but I only delete the spams, robots, and obvious sales pitches.

The people in my Reader are friends.  They listen. I listen. They help. I help. We laugh and we cry and we are THERE for each other.   I include all my business blogs in the same Reader – you might be surprised at the connections to be made that way.

What, she mixes business and pleasure?  She does indeed.  Much of the time, too.

She considers her clients to be a kind of friend?  She does that, too.

The Blogosphere is full of friends, seen and unseen, business and pleasure.  Both kinds are real. I consider them all to be real life friends.

Sometimes we pick our friends and sometimes they pick us. (insert crack about picking nose here) This holds true wherever we go. The internet is a place to go. There are lovely people there. There are also some awful people here.  You know, just like in real life.  That’s because the Blogosphere IS real life.

Delete an active blog from my Reader?  Delete someone who comments sincerely?  Delete a real person, someone who isn’t a robot, and who updates/comments in real time?  Why would I do that?  Why would I pare down a list for my personal convenience at the expense of possibly hurting someone’s feelings?

Nobody can ever have too many friends. And I’m still discovering treasures out there. Why would I stop mining for gold just because I found some already? In fact, if anyone is reading this and you know I don’t know you yet, tell me. I’m happy to meet you, and of COURSE you can sit with us.

Sometimes I read about a blogger going through his/her Reader/Twitter/Facebook/etc. and weeding out anyone who isn’t considered ‘popular’ by other bloggers, or who isn’t, apparently, useful enough. Some bloggers only want to hang out with the A-group. I can only assume they were like that in high school, too, and haven’t grown out of it yet, still, in real life. And I find this attitude sad, and even. . . . sick.  Okay, the word I’m actually thinking of is “pompous.”

I am not an A-list blogger. I’m often one of the first to be cut. That’s fine. Populate your feeds with well-known A-table people and see how many comments you get – that aren’t strictly business – from them. See how much advice and support you get. See how they will get to know you personally, and want to hang out with you. And when you comment on some of those A-list blogs. . . . oh, but wait a minute. Some of those blogs don’t ALLOW comments.

Don’t you get it? REAL bloggers welcome comments, and not just from people they know. Not from spammers or morons, but from real people who take notice and care. Many of those A-list blogs aren’t even real blogs any more; they’re just webpages with articles and self-promotion and speaking engagements.

Preaching to the choir is fine if you really don’t want to learn anything new from someone who isn’t already IN the choir.

But that’s okay. You’ve a right to please yourself; we all do. So delete everybody who isn’t ‘somebody.’ And yes, I know, that would be me. Go ahead.

That’s not how I do this, but we are all different. Sometimes, discovering just HOW different, in certain ways, is more than just a little bit disillusioning.

Sometimes it’s a LOT of disillusioning.

Do we EVER get to leave high school, I mean completely? Why is this nonsense still going on, and why is it still bothering me?

But it is. And it does. I wish I could say it didn’t, but it does. It even, kinda, you know, hurts.

But that’s okay. I understand. I’ll just take my plate lunch and go sit at another table.

You sit there and wait for the cheerleaders and the jocks and the student council president and the homecoming queen and people who can do something for you, and while you’re waiting for them, the rest of us will be sitting over HERE. And we will be having way more fun than you.

What do I know. I’m not cool.

But I know what the “social” in “social media” means.  And it doesn’t mean excluding people.  Well, unless they’re proven sociopaths, axe murderers, compulsive liars, dirty rotten scoundrels (although some of those guys are kinda fun), simpering morons, people who get in the “20 items or fewer” with a mounded cartful, or sissy sparkly vampires.  (brooding vampires welcome.)

Move over, B-table friends.  It’s my deal.  Double-bid, no-trump, high-low euchre, coming right up.  Pass the SweeTarts.  And yes, we’re all really listening.

A Good 2012 Willie Waught To You All, Sez Me


Mamacita says: Well, my dears, here we all are once again, celebrating another new year with our real life friends and our other real life friends.

When I began this blog eight years ago, it was more an outlet and an experiment than what it is now, which is an extension of, well, me.

Eight years ago, I didn’t really consider the  internet to be full of anything personal, let alone actual people, and the few people I did encounter were most unpleasant.  The idea that there were internet people out there who could possibly be actual FRIENDS wasn’t even considered.  When the nice people started commenting and becoming more and more real to me. . . when these invisible people started becoming visible – both literally and figuratively – when I started to discover the wealth of friendship contained in this world wide web of wonder, it was as though I’d discovered what was really behind Ali Baba’s “Open Sesame,” (or, in the words of Popeye, ‘Open Sez Me!’ )and it was treasure beyond comprehension.  I used to think that “friends” had to be “here” in order to be really and truly real, but I’ve learned better since the beginning.

Online friends are as real as the other kind, and “there” is also “here” in the Blogosphere.

I hope all of you have a wonderful and positive New Year. I hope nothing bad happens to any of you, and I hope you are all safe, and healthy, and happy, every single day. You, and everybody who is precious to you.

As I am a teacher, I must, of course, do a little teaching here.

Did you know that the automated Times Square dropping ball was invented by a teenager? This teenager has become a very amazing adult, responsible for many innovative inventions and wonderful ideas and brilliant concepts. We study Dean Kamen in my college reading class, and he is well worth your attention, for his contributions have made and are making the world a better place for many people.

This song, which all of us will be hearing and maybe even singing tonight, always makes me tear up. Even back before I knew what it meant, something about it was both sad, and happy, and sentimental.

It also makes me think of When Harry Met Sally, which is and always will be one of my favorite movies of all time.  It’s also the perfect New Year’s Eve group movie, as most of you will already know.

What does this song really mean? I think it’s important that we all know, since it’s a song that’s become a kind of holiday icon for most people. When you sing or hear it tonight, think about what the words are saying.

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, (Should old acquaintances be forgotten,)
And never brought to mind (
And never remembered?)
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And the days of auld lang syne. (
And days of long ago.)

And surely ye ‘ll be your pint’ stowp (And surely you will pay for your pint)
And surely I ‘ll be mine (
And surely I’ll pay for mine)
And we ‘ll take a cup o’ kindness yet (
We’ll drink a cup of kindness yet)
For auld lang syne (
for the days of long ago.)

We twa hae run about the braes (We two have run around the hillsides)
And pou’d the gowans fine (
and pulled the daisies fine)
But we ‘ve wander’d monie a weary fit (
But we have wandered many a weary foot)
Sin’ auld lang syne. (
Since the days of long ago.)

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn (We two have paddled in the stream)
Frae morning sun till dine (
From noon ‘till dinner time)
But seas between us braid hae roar’d (
But seas between us broad have roared)
Sin’ the days of auld lang syne (
Since the days of long ago)

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere (And there’s a hand, my trusty friend)
And gie ‘s a hand o’ thine (
And give us a hand of yours)
And we ‘ll tak a right guid-willie waught (
And we will take a goodwill draught)
For auld lang syne (
For the days of long ago)

[CHORUS]For auld lang syne, my dear (For the days of long ago, my dear)
For auld lang syne (
For the days of long ago)
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet (
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet)
For auld lang syne (
For the days of long ago.)

To answer the question of whether or not old acquaintances should ever be forgotten, the answer is, most emphatically, “NO.”

Not till the Alzheimer’s makes me say “Oh Baby” to the nursing home orderlies.

I love you, dear friends. And I wish you were all here so we could take a right guid willie waught together. I’m really up for some good willie waught.

Have a wonderful and safe New Year’s Eve. Let’s all still be here New Year’s Day. I don’t want to hear of any wonky driving from any of you, you hear? I don’t want to read about you in the newspapers tomorrow, either. Especially on the obituary page. (The police log would be bad enough. . . .)

Happy New Year. I hope 2012 is the best year yet, for all of you.

Happy New Year to you all.

 

Twas the Night After Christmas. . . .

Mamacita says:  The problem with the night AFTER Christmas is the word “after” in regard to Christmas.

The best part of the season is the anticipation.  The weeks and days building up to it, the lists and the baking and the songs and the packages appearing on the front porch as the UPS and FedEx drivers beep their horns and wave. . .the lights and the candles and the ornaments, each with its history. . . the smiles and the planning and the cards. . . all these and more, in preparation, climbing up and up to the summit which is the actual DAY, and then you’re there and after all sisters and their families have gone back home, what then? The journey really is more important than the destination, isn’t it.

The actual Day, wonderful as it may be, is kind of sad, and the day after is a heartbreaker.

Until the out-of-state relatives get here, that is.  YeeHAW, I’m looking forward to that!

 

 

It's Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer!

christmasquote Mamacita says: I really don’t know how anyone could ever say it better than Charles Dickens, unless it was Ma Ingalls, who assured Laura and Mary that if everyone wanted everyone else to be happy all the time, then every day would be Christmas. I believe this to be absolutely true.

Haven’t you noticed by now that almost every time you hope and wish and strive for someone else’s happiness, you end up happier yourself? Sometimes, not getting what we wanted for Christmas means we get something else that’s even better. As far as I’m concerned, helping and watching others get what THEY wanted is the best part of the season.

It disgusts me out every pore of my very large body bothers me when people keep Christmas contained in a house or – far worse – in a church. Dressing up and hanging out with other dressed-up people all of whom are going home to near-opulence, comparatively speaking, and feeling justified and holy because they went through the motions and recited the words without actually doing anything about them really doesn’t seem like Christmas proper to me. These days, a lot of Christmas services are more like recitals and concerts with divas than anything spiritual or meaningful. Gold, frankincense and myrrh were meant to be given away, not draped around the church. How many of those overdressed bedecked people plan to do anything for anyone but themselves this Christmas?  I am not impressed by glitzy ceremony and diva performances at church.

I am also disgusted that the very places that most need volunteers and donations are near capacity with the needy and extremely short-handed with the volunteers on church nights. Shouldn’t those be the very times the most people gather together to DO for others, not just sit around and talk about it?

Preaching to the choir only reassures and reaffirms already-held thoughts and beliefs. Festooning a church with expensive fake greenery seems an outrageous use of money that would be better spent supplying a soup kitchen or providing Christmas for several families in the area. On Christmas, why not shut the church’s door and send the church’s people out to actually, physically, help real people in their own areas who are in desperate need?

If all you did this season was decorate, purchase, bake, dress up, party, sing/play/work/plan only at/for church, or sit at home relaxing in front of the TV, shame on you. Next year, try to do better than that. Next year, don’t dress up and head for the mall or the church (unless it’s headquarters for the donations which you are going to help distribute); bundle up and get out there and make Christmas really happen for people who might not know what you’ve known for years. Don’t preach to them; let your actions do that for you. Action, people, not words. Words can be empty. Words ARE empty without accompanying action.

If your church’s Christmas focuses on the shop window glitter, performance, and in-house words/deeds/actions, maybe it’s time to seek a real church – one that has substance behind the glowing windows: a church that encourages its worshipers to walk out of the church and into the lives of the people.

Words are cheap. Action takes effort. Without the effort, Christmas isn’t the only meaningless thing in people’s lives.

Seriously. If your church doesn’t know the names of almost every person in its immediate neighborhood, what good is it? What good is it if it concentrates on sending packages and money overseas and ignores the needy right across the street?

It’s better to do a kindness at home than go afar to burn incense. –Chinese proverb

Heh. She said “dick.”

Yes, Internet, There IS A Santa Claus.

BE001052

Mamacita says: It makes me sad that so many parents are not allowing their children to dwell in the world of innocent fantasy.  These parents feel that to allow it is equivalent to lying to their children about what is real and what isn’t.

Don’t they understand that to a child, both worlds are real?  I’ll go one further: to all people of any age who retain their believing hearts, and who use their brains as God (and biology) intended, both worlds are real, too.

My daughter was seven when she asked the question I’d been dreading for seven years: “Mommy, is there really a Santa Claus?”

However, thanks to Caroline Quiner Ingalls, I knew exactly how to answer her. And, this answer fully satisfied my little child, and me.

Laura and Mary’s Ma knew how to explain to her children about Santa Claus without destroying their faith in miracles and magic:

. . . then Laura had a chance to speak without interrupting. She said “There isn’t any fireplace.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Ma asked her.

“Santa Claus,” Laura answered.

“Eat your supper, Laura, and let’s not cross bridges till we come to them,” said Ma.

Laura and Mary knew that Santa Claus could not come down a chimney when there was no chimney. One day Mary asked Ma how Santa Claus could come. Ma did not answer. Instead, she asked, “What do you girls want for Christmas?”

. . . “Ma!” (Laura) cried. “there IS a Santa Claus, isn’t there?”

“Of course there’s a Santa Claus, said Ma. She set the iron on the stove to heat again.

“The older you are, the more you know about Santa Claus,” she said. “You are so big now, you know he can’t be just one man, don’t you? You know he is everywhere on Christmas Eve. He is in the Big Woods, and in Indian Territory, and far away in York State, and here. He comes down all the chimneys at the same time. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ma,” said Mary and Laura.

“Well,” said Ma. “then you see – “

“I guess he is like angels,” Mary said, slowly. And Laura could see that, just as well as Mary could.

Then Ma told them something else about Santa Claus. He was everywhere, and besides that, he was all the time.

Whenever anyone was unselfish, that was Santa Claus.

Christmas Eve was the time when everybody was unselfish. On that one night, Santa Claus was everywhere, because everybody, all together, stopped being selfish and wanted other people to be happy. And in the morning you saw what that had done.

“If everybody wanted everybody else to be happy, all the time, then would it be Christmas all the time?” Laura asked, and Ma said, “Yes, Laura.”

–from On the Banks of Plum Creek, by Laura Ingalls Wilder

You’re welcome.