I get it, you love to run and you’re killing it every day in preparation for some ridiculously pointless marathon when we all know the real satisfaction you get is from having enviable legs.
I get it, Crossfit has changed your life and you now firmly believe that if everyone did it, they would all be similarly transformed.
I get it, you only eat meat and your diet makes you strong like bull.
I get it, you only eat veggies and secretly wish to lynch bacon-lovers and throttle those who think Vegan is a newly-discovered planet.
I get it, you don’t really want anyone to know exactly what you’re talking about, but feel compelled to get something off your chest, so you opt for irritating ambiguity, your posts so obscure nobody knows whether it’s actually time to orchestrate an intervention.
We are all to some extent guilty.
I happen to inundate fellow users with pictures of my children. My children being cute, being annoying, being funny, just being.
If they turned out blurry, I just photoshop the shit out of them.
If the first 13 pictures didn’t turn out, I keep taking pictures until I arrive at the winner.
If I happen upon another adorable moment to capture, I am a-gonna post it even if it comes just several minutes after my previous post of my adorable, sweet little spawn.
So, do you get it? I love my kids. Get it?
It’s so strange how much social media has dramatically altered our interaction with acquaintances. I say “acquaintances” because even though I know every single person on my “friends list”, I have probably only seen 10 of them in person in a social setting in the past year. (Oh, those are all family members.)
In the year 2005, I wouldn’t have been caught dead sharing the mundane details of my everyday life with people in casual conversation.
I would never have randomly mentioned that my year has been a complete cluster one week in.
I would never have walked up to someone every few hours to say, “Look at how awesomely cute my kid is” or “I ran X amount of miles this morning” or “Ugh, can’t believe it’s happened again. No, I won’t tell you what I’m referring to. I’ve mastered the art of the compelling tease with no reward.”
Now, we’re all guilty of oversharing and we come with plethora of justifications.
“I share all the pictures of my kids for my relatives who don’t live nearby.”
“I’m just trying to keep myself motivated.”
So many people suggest putting down the smartphone, getting off the ipad and actually interacting with people. Well, I’m a hardcore introvert. I’ve never been one to suggest an outing with pals and now that I have children, I run from social interaction like it’s a flesh-starved zombie.
I could sit around and read your posts and feel outraged that running gives me shin splints. I could feel guilty about the bacon I had with breakfast or the massive pile of Thai for lunch with all it’s Gluteny, gluttonous goodness.
I could even internally debate whether to ask you what your post ACTUALLY means while seething in frustration for several minutes.
But, I’m not going to hide you from my feed.
Because I get it. I get it and you’re gonna keep on getting it too, cause my kids are my world.
They provide me with the sweetest, most joyful moments of my day and then turn around and suck the sleep out of my nights and destroy me with their asshole antics.
By all means, keep shoving whatever “your shit” is down my throat.
In return, I give you… my edited life in snippets and snapshots. Enjoy.
Posted by ScreamerDreamer in Family, Family humor, Family life, Funny family, social media Tags: annoying posts, antisocial, facebook, oversharing, pictures of kid, social interaction, social media, tmi
I am one awkward social situation away from becoming a bonafide recluse.
I am one lonely, drunken episode of Scandal away from throwing a house party.
I have always been conflicted when it comes to social interaction.
I suffer from debilitating social anxiety, yet I crave the company of others, in particular stimulating conversation.
People often make crappy chit chat with me while I’m heating up food in the break room at work or passing by in the hallway. They make some lame joke, half of the time without my getting the reference. I squeeze out a half-assed chuckle and think, it has to be obvious that I seriously don’t care about what they just said.
I grind my teeth into the obligatory half-smile. The second I am out of their line of sight, the corners of my mouth plummet back to a miserable scowl.
I’m like Lionel Playworld’s nightmare.
I take resting bitch face to a whole new level.
It’s not that I hate everyone, just the vast majority of people.
There was a time when it wasn’t absurd to hear me LOL to something a friend said in the newsroom.
I nearly peed my pants many a time while going over “chat time rundowns” with my old best pal, David.
I could once be heard singing and clapping along to music videos on VH1 on the overnight shift.
That’s the thing, all of the fun was with people at my PREVIOUS place of work and I’ve been at this job a LOOONG time now.
There’s nobody splitting up a pint of Stoli Raz in coffee cups from the trunk of a car before a lame station meeting after a shift.
There’s no Friday night dash to a bar where everyone can dish and bitch about all of the stressful, heinous events of the work week.
There’s no playing, “Who would you rather?” with famous politicians. (Condi Rice or Hillary Clinton?)
There’s no listing of favorite movies, songs, vending machine snack foods.
There’s no commiserating over Cuban bread.
These are all things that just don’t happen here.
So, it’s entirely possible I am a victim of my surroundings.
I once tried to institute Flashback Friday here, convincing my colleagues to take turns playing the best old school roller rink jams. Instead of developing a reputation for actually being kinda sorta fun, I just inched my way closer to getting demoted.
I now daydream equally of two things:
Vanishing to a tropical island, living off the fish I catch, falling into a coma-like sleep at night, muscles taut from a day of useful work, hard labor building huts and shit.
Throwing a massive 80’s-themed costume-required house party, the alcohol and fantastic conversation flowing, a never-ending night where everyone is guaranteed to sleep past noon the following day.
Neither one will ever be more than a fantasy.
Now that I am a mom, I wonder if my kids will suffer from a similar affliction. An aversion to frat parties and girl talk, but a burning desire for friendship and camaraderie.
My kids don’t have friends outside of daycare. I usually avoid even responding to any of the birthday party invites that get stuffed into the bottom of their backpacks.
The truth is, I don’t want to stand around awkwardly with moms who want to talk about the cost of purses, their child’s mysterious maladies or what their husbands do for a living.
I also wonder if I am training my daughter to fear solitude since every time she’s naughty she gets sent to her room alone.
“No!! Not time by myself! With all of these toys, books, and games? You have banished me to the fiery pits of hell, you sweater-clad Satan!”
If nothing else, I am probably destroying them by example.
Mommy and Daddy don’t have friends.
Mommy and Daddy believe that in general, people are selfish, rude, arrogant, insecure, manipulative, dull and basically evil.
Mommy and Daddy consider a social event to be on par with a colonoscopy without anesthesia.
I am one more fake laugh away from becoming a mute.
I am one more cabin-fever day with two toddlers away from tearing it up at the club.
Posted by ScreamerDreamer in Family, Family humor, Family life, journalism, Motherhood, news, Parenting, Toddlers, Working mom Tags: antisocial, anxiety, chit chat, friends... how many of us have them?, house party, lonely