This Does Not Compute

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:

Your life without a computer, what does it look like?

I wake in the morning

Check the weather online

Google my teams’ scores

Cruise Amazon for a time

I log into WordPress

Along about seven

Peruse my statistics

I’m in hell or in heaven.

In the shower I ponder

Topics to write

Great ideas flock to me

Then fly, out of sight.

My house is a wreck,

But never you mind

I’m too busy Facebooking

And my Twitter feed’s unkind

Without my computer

And nowhere to post

I might go bonkers, you see

I’m more addicted than most.

  
Peace, people.
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/life-after-blogs/”>Life After Blogs</a>

1,003 Posts

A couple of days ago I received a notification from the good folks at WordPress informing me that I’d reached the important 1,000 post milestone. Considering that I’ve been blogging for 506 days, that’s not too bad. 

The stat I’d love to see reach 1,000 is “number of followers,” but that one breaks down like this:

Facebook    411

Twitter          90

Tumblr          40

WordPress  398

Total:            939

A great many of those are overlapping, so I’m still way short of the 1,000 I covet.

What’s a girl got to do? Ride a horse naked through the local village? It worked for Lady Godiva. I hear she had tons of followers. I’d better start growing my hair. This pixie cut isn’t going to come close to covering all of my assets.

  
Peace, people!

Friends I Don’t Know

Thanks to social media and WordPress I’ve become friends with a large number of people who* I’ve never actually met face to face.  (*Should that be whom? I’m sure one of my friends will let me know.)

I enjoy these friendships formed over creative writing, political leanings, and witty comments. In many ways they are as important to me as friendships formed in old-fashioned ways, such as over a shared love of hopscotch in elementary school or while playing hooky together in junior high (not that I ever did that, of course). 

Social media friends tend to be extremely forthright and plain-spoken. If one thinks you’re full of cow manure or a post is weak they’re likely to tell you, knowing they’ll never have to look you in the eye. If a fellow blogger doesn’t “like” or comment on a post their silence might indicate that they didn’t care for the piece or that they didn’t have time to actually read it. The Pollyanna in me always believes it to be the latter.

A friend I don’t know with whom I play Words With Friends (Roy S.) went missing from the game for more than a week, and I began to worry about him. Because the game is our only link, I had no way to inquire after him. Finally this week he played a word and in chat said he’d been unwell for the past few days. Whew! Of course I’d imagined poor Roy S. dangling from a cliff by one hand while trying frantically to type “a-p-r-a-x-i-a” with the other.

Similarly, if I don’t hear or read something from a blogger I follow I start feeling anxious. My imagination goes on overdrive and trust me, in my mind some of you have met spectacular ends. I’m so very relieved when I see a post from your site, and your make-believe death gets saved in my future fiction file.

This leads to the following question: Shouldn’t there be a way of making sure the friends we don’t know are ok? Maybe I’ll invent an app that generates one final note on social media upon one’s death. Something like:

Hey there. Leslie’s dead. She wanted you to know that your support meant so much. Here’s one last poem composed in advance of her demise to be shared on this occasion.

Gone

By Leslie aka Nana 

Life was so wonderful

But my time has come,

No one thought I was sick

Guess they feel pretty dumb.

But I lived a full life

Full of all that is good,

Now sit and weep for me

Like any real friend would.

Leslie knew this wasn’t much of a poem, but, hey she was really sick.

Peace, and good health, people!

  

Pariah

How is a pariah like a piranha?
Neither are welcome dinner guests.

  
  
Give social media credit
where credit is due.
Pariah status becomes easy
for users to accrue.
Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook,
and Instagram, too
Provide pulpits for all
who have hatred to spew.

TMI?

I have a gift when it comes to giving out too much information, a.k.a. TMI. My brain is hollering, “For the love of God, STOP!” while my mouth keeps spouting all the details of my life that are better left untouched, unknown, and uncovered.

 

In the good and/or bad old days if one gave out TMI it often wasn’t a big deal, unless one happened to be in front of a television audience. The TMI didn’t travel far or for any distance. However, today’s social media makes sharing TMI much too easy and in some ways dangerous. 

Take yesterday, for example. My 10-year-old grandaughter started a pet care service. She created a professional looking sign, made copies, and posted them all around her small town Illinois neighborhood. I immediately copied the photo and posted it on my Facebook page. Thank goodness my youngest brother pointed out that it might not be wise to post the phone number of a preteen girl on Facebook, and I promptly deleted it.

Usually, though, my tendency is to provide entirely too much information about myself. Case in point, I typed this post on my iPhone. In the john. Would someone fetch me some t.p.? TMI?

  
Peace, people!