July 24, 2017


Am I raising self absorbed entitled humans, a race of walking dead, uber sensitive obnoxious lip singers? Urchins who know what they look like with dog ears and a puppy snout, with a wreath of animated flowers adorning their cherub heads. Vomiting rainbows. Providing locations, assuming mankind cares. Checking in here, checking out there.

My kids wanted an app we'll call XYZ. Like all responsible dictators, I asked "what does it do?"

"It lets you see where your friends are and what they're doing. If you see they are busy you don't waste time texting asking to get together. They can know where you are too and what you're doing." I researched the app "lets you see photo statuses of what all your friends are doing "right now" OH SIGN ME UP! I'm creating an app called WFC.

But this struck something deep within, puncturing a hole in my internal ADD balloon, sending forth a tsunami of unorganized, update, post, message, post, like, post, love, double tap, check in, post post post.

I'm guilty too. Posting post worthy posts or what I ordain as post worthy, asking my kids "Aren't you going to post that? Why didn't you post that? That would be cute to post. Should I post this?" A family favorite "Postin it!" announced proudly. ~ New haircut selfie, date night selfie, pet selfie, accidental selfie (looking off deep in thought, oops took a picture of myself), one eyed selfie, butt lip selfie aka duck lip selfie, sleep selfie (how is it possible), sexy underage daughter selfie, we all know it's not you, it's your child. Stop putting her out there for pervs to feast on with greasy fingers, foaming at the mouth... I digress. Memory pictures on Facebook disorient, a boomerang into a time lapse I didn't sign up for. "who is that, is that now, I thought they were older, somehow my kids aged and theirs didn't, where am I, who am I, what am I... am I?"

I suppose every generation is fearful for the next. Fearful we are messing it all up, fearful we've allowed our kids to think their worth is determined by likes. Paralyzed, thinking I'm letting my darlings become saturated with senseless pictures, fruitless information taking up profitable space. I'm at idiot capacity lately, sacrificing premium ocean brain real estate for mosquito infested wetlands. I don't want the same to happen to them, their minds to be condemned, boarded up houses trapping in gray matter.

Here I go sounding how I never wanted to sound.... a cave woman.... "When I was a homo-sapian we rubbed sticks together to make fire and your great uncle invented the wheel from a rock."

Here I go sounding like an old dusty fart cloud... "When I was a whippersnapper, all I got for Christmas was an orange."

Or sounding like what I really am, a Madonna, Salt and Pepa loving girl from the 80's..... "When I was a teenager I didn't have a phone, I had to entertain myself... my parents didn't cart me all over creation making sure I was happy and fulfilled, that my soccer/cheer career (fill in the blank) was in full swing by the ripe old age of five. And I certainly didn't know where my friends were at any given time. Nor did I care."

Green Day sang it best “Information age of hysteria. It's calling out to idiot America.” I need off this crazy train and I want to take my kids with me like a wanderer, have them wrapped safely in a bindle, tied to my hobo stick.