Facebook Follies: UNFOLLOW

It’s been nearly four years since I wrote the original Facebook Follies post, outlining a few observations I’d made during an 8-year love/hate relationship with Facebook. I went back and read it last night and not much has changed in four years. People are still crazy and for some reason, I can’t look away.

Dont expect me to share your "I love Jesus" message on facebook. I love Jesus. Jesus hasn't logged on to Facebook...Ever. God doesn't even have an account. Telling me to "repost if you believe" only appeals to folks who still send chain letters. With a stamp. The same people who are still waiting on something great to happen to them at 12:01 AM every day. Wake me up if it happens. I'll be asleep. - Original Facebook Follies

I don’t even know if this feature existed four years ago, but since the Follies I’ve discovered the “UNFOLLOW” feature on Facebook. It’s a game changer, allowing you to remain “friends” (I use that term oh, so loosely) with someone but never see anything they post. I have something like 500 friends and only follow 17, selective people.

If you feel a little overwhelmed – and a lot annoyed - when you log onto Facebook, follow these simple steps to weed out the cringe-worthy fodder. 

Anyone still taking selfies out of boredom: UNFOLLOW

It’s one thing to show a new haircut (looks great!), yourself visiting an interesting place (wish I was there!), prove healthy makeover progress (I'm constantly amazed as what people can accomplish) or anything with a group that involves a selfie stick (yes, selfie sticks promote team building, or something).

But it’s another thing to post a selfie only to solicit attention.

You stage the selfie, retake the selfie six times, edit the selfie, post the selfie, then compulsively check the selfie to see how many likes it got. Then post about being tired.

You’re tired? You’re bored?

Have you tried not taking a selfie and taking a nap, instead?

Because I’ll tell ya, we’re all exhausted, too.

Anyone who constantly posts articles based off sensationalism: UNFOLLOW

There are some ridiculous articles or images in circulation regarding things that Americans truly worry about: food production, politics, self-awareness and the environment. Do people actually believe what they read on Facebook?! And why do they share it? It's one thing to spread a message you may believe in; it's another to click "share" before even considering the validity. Here is a recent screenshot:

Do you really think these foods would still be on the shelf if there were any carcinogenic concerns? Think before you share. Don’t scare other parents. They have enough to worry about.  

**Also, disagreeing with someone doesn't always warrant an unfriend/unfollow. Sometimes the best way to learn is to observe what the "other side" (in any matter) shares. You may not always agree, but you can always be respectful. 

Anyone who constantly shares misquotes: UNFOLLOW

 

Shakespeare tweeted just last week that this makes him very angry. 

Buddha retweeted it – so you know it’s true.

Anyone who posts a photo of a baby still covered in afterbirth: UNFOLLOW

I shouldn’t have to explain this. There is a time and a place. Shut off your phone.

Abuse of #blessed: UNFOLLOW

Life’s blessings can some in a lot of different forms and it think it is wonderful when folks recognize that. But when everything - everything - in your life is described as #blessed, it’s kinda hard for the rest of us to keep up. Especially when you’re #blessed enough to use #blessed regularly to promote personal success. Constantly. Sometimes you being #blessed has nothing to do with your success. Most who abuse #blessed (there is a difference in using it and abusing it) don't even explain how the #blessing has changed their heart or their life. Not everything is a #blessing.  Sometimes it’s a result of hard work or money. Bless your heart. 

Over use of lol: UNFOLLOW

Some people really do intend to “laugh out loud” when they use “lol”.

But the large majority who “lol” just typed something that they’re not completely confident in, so they end the statement awkwardly. Lol.

We're all on to you, repeat offender. Lol.

I’d love to use some screenshots, but I know the guilty read the blog. Lol.

Weekly #MCM and #WCW posts: UNFOLLOW

If you have to publically renew your shaky pseudo-vows with your (in)significant other on a weekly basis, you have more issues than just picking which photo to post. Besides, everyone already knows you have a perfect relationship. Except for those who know you in real life.

Constant sales pitches: UNFOLLOW

While I admire your entrepreneurial spirit, please, I’m begging you: Quit directly asking me to soak it, cover it, wrap it, drink it, shake it or burn it. There was one week that I received three messages from the same person asking me to join three different teams. Your products seem to really produce results but your sales pitch makes me want to take a nap. Trust me, I've bought my share of burners and Spark; but the constant invites to change my life through a lotion really wear me out. It is discouraging to never hear from someone for years, then suddenly they want to sell you something. Good luck! I expect you to be 30 inches thinner, self-employed, wrinkle free and driving a Lexus the next time I see you.

And on that note I’ll wrap it up. No pun intended. 

Keep these ideas in mind next time your news feed needs a shake down. Facebook can be a really powerful tool if you actively control what you see.  Believe it or not, I've stuck to these guidelines so closely, I rarely see any political slander in my newsfeed. What a relief! Can you say #blessed?

Lets end this on high note. Facebook usually does a great job of inserting personal interest groups into my timeline. This little ditty showed up just yesterday:

You got it wrong, Facebook, 

you got it all wrong. 

Gut Check: Contentment

Unbridled, or tethered in tide, 

the safety of the fence or the danger of the ride, 

I'll always be unsatisfied

A few years ago I worked under a man named Forrest who insisted on bi-weekly "gut checks". These gut checks were his way of keeping a pulse on the business and the voices of his team members. Were we focusing on the things we should be? While there were weeks I didn't have much to say, there were also weeks that the punch in the gut was exactly what I needed: whether I originally believed that when I entered the meeting, or not. 

Fast forward seven years (time flies):
Sunday we sat down in the pew and I opened the bulletin. If you're feeling sorry for yourself, read through the church prayer list. Heart wrenching. 

The sermon headline instantly caught my skimming eyes: Are You Content?

Without hesitation I answered in my head, Of course.

I took notes throughout the sermon, anyway. 
I didn't know it then, but a gut check was on it's way. 

As it turns out, people can be a lot of things. 
Grateful. 
Angry. 
Forgetful. 
Tired. 
Fulfilled. 
Happy. 
Moved. 
Hungry.
But truly content? That's tough to accomplish. 

As it turns out, contentment is not a matter of circumstances, but rather a matter of attitude. Sometimes the most difficult thing we have to learn to do is separate what is really important or valuable with all the other "stuff" that can interfere with a content life. 

The family beside you. 
Your health. 
Home windows that don't sing with the wind. 
Someone you can count on. 
Comfortable shoes.  
The whole idea of taking assessment of those truly important things -  and learning to live with out life's frivolous perks - reminded me of the story I told some time ago about what is was like to grow up rich. Did you happen to grow up rich, too?
I was told once that if you can talk/text on your cell phone while waiting in line to upgrade to a new one, you're rich enough. 
How is that for perspective?

As it turns out, a guaranteed way to find contentment is to quit comparing yourself and your life path....to anything.
To others'. 
To what might have been. 
To something you read in a magazine. 
To something you saw from a distance. 
To the what if that still burns inside you. 
How tough is this?  Daily we're surrounded with other people who seem to completely have it together. 
In the bank. 
At the house. 
With the family. 
Amidst the solid future plan. 
Where does that leave you and the 854 questions still left lingering in your head?
In a world where something - or someone - more is just a click or conversation away, it's no wonder we may find ourselves constantly seeking ways to find something better. 
Do something bigger, better. Are the most discontent people the ones who have to keep up with social statuses?
Go somewhere farther, more exotic. Are the most discontent people the ones who constantly claim that they need a vacation? Personally, I prefer a life that I don't need to vacation from. 
Be someone better, more exciting. Are the most discontent people the ones who never find peace within themselves?

That brings me to the final gut check:

Perhaps the greatest ways to find contentment in life is to find - and live - your purpose. 
Purpose and contentment are actually brothers, did you know that? And while they're not conjoined and the hip, you can usually find one with the other. 
Diving into your life's purpose can be the most terrifying, gratifying thing you ever do. It may take some time to find it. Sure, you're on this earth to love your husband or wife, be a teaching parent and keep the family unit operational. But is there something more? What is missing?

Where might you finally find that contentment? 

Maybe you're not making the income you hoped for. Work to improve yourself and your abilities. 
Maybe you haven't lost the weight you've let drag you down for years. Today is the day to get started. 
Maybe you're 1,000 miles from where you want to end up. Devise a plan to get there. 
Maybe you find yourself going back to what could have, might have, should have been. There  is nothing more empty than living in those terms. 
Maybe you walk through your house and dream of all the improvements you'd like to see made. Make a list and start saving your money. 
Maybe there is still a void. Pray about it. 

There is power in saying, honestly: 

This is where I am today. 

I am confident it will get better. 

It's strange that sometimes I can remember the exact moment that I got my name on the board for the very first time. Mrs. Baker's class. 1990. I was talking out of line. I told Kristen Sparks I liked her headband. I remember that as though it was yesterday. But other times I have a terribly difficult time remembering my purpose. And that's when discontentment begins to set up camp in my life. 

Sunday was the best gut check I've had in some time. Not because it was something I wanted to hear, but because it was something I needed to hear. 
I know that I'm happy, but am I content?
Are you?

We studied Philippians 4:10-13 

:: Thanks for the Gifts::

Oh, how I long to live this. 

No matter the circumstances. 

Fantasy Pinterest

I was trying to get on my shoes and brush my teeth before church Sunday when I passed Cody in the living room, grabbing his iPad. 
His iPad, rushing out the door on a Sunday morning?

"I'm going to need you to drive to church this morning, if you don't mind. I need to update my fantasy football team," he said.

I got one foot in and laughed. "Are you kidding me?" 
"No...all of my players are injured. Except for that Martavis - the Pittsburg Steeler - he's out for drugs."
That stung a little. 
"Fantasy Football is so ridiculous!" I continued, giving my hair one final spritz (fog) of FrizEase. 

Cody defended his hobby as he filled two travel mugs of coffee. "I mean, I'm sure there is a fantasy Pinterest or something that you could play in."

I stopped dead in my boots. 

He, actually, didn't know how right he was. 
There was a Fantasy hobby I could lose myself in. 
It's called Pinterest. 

Someone else does all the work - and makes it look good. 
Guys are spending time drafting players that would never realistically be on the same team. 
They're talking about playoffs four months in advance. 
They're investing time, energy and effort into crafting a line up that they'll track closer than a trophy buck this fall. 
But they'll never step foot on a football field. 
And you. 
Look at where your decisions have led you. 
You think you have enough time/patience/stamina to recycle your old toilet paper rolls into customized greeting cards?
You think you have enough time/patience/stamina to turn peanut butter and jelly sandwiches  into cake pops?
You think you have enough time/patience/stamina to recycle your kid's basketball t-shirts into a tent? 
You think you have enough time/patience/stamina to make a button necklace?
No. 
Let someone else throw that pass, make that tackle or super glue their fingers together - and to the dog - while you just sit back and watch. 
That's what HGTV and ESPN are all about. 

It makes us strangely competitive.

All of the sudden, Cody is talking about players' performance like he personally trained them. Like he has a true stake in this running back's performance. 

"He should have had that!"

"Why in the world would he have done that?!"

And, he talks to his friends about where "his team" lies compared to theirs. 

Ahead. 

Behind. 

Still reeling from Luck's performance during the first two games of the season. (Calm down. He did this last year, too. I think the wind blows his beard in his eyes.)

And Pinterest has created and stimulated this strange need for us to create the most perfect family photos, most perfect wedding, most perfect fall outfit, most perfect meal, most perfect mud room, most perfect engagement photos and most perfect birthday cake for the princess at home. 

Who are you trying to impress?

It did not work. 

Stop. I can't even. 

Stick to Cinnamon Toast Crunch. 

It's expensive. 
I have no idea what kind of investment (do you see the sarcasm dripping off of that word?) Cody has in Fantasy Football. Does it cost money? Don't answer that. 
Let's talk about all of the money you've spent on powered sugar, scarves and chalk paint. 
Enough said. 

Name cropped to protect the innocent. 

You're welcome, Emily. 

It's not real; None of this is real: 
Actually, sir, Andrew Luck doesn't even know you exist. Why are you so hung up on his Sunday performance? And Martavis doesn't care who you are. Which is probably a good thing. 
And "your team" realistically belongs to m(b?)illionaires like Robert Kraft, Jim Irsay, Martha Ford and Dan Rooney. Do you think they get hung up on a pass interference?
No. They have another cocktail. And fire someone. 
And you, Pinterest Pam, the reason your outfit doesn't look as amazing as her's?
You're a real, beautiful size 10. 
She's a 0. 
Which is only a size if you still shop at American Eagle. 
The reason your make up didn't turn out like her's?
You don't have a make-up artist, professional photographer and studio. 
The reason your wreath doesn't look like her's?
Well, frankly, you're not crafty. And that's ok! That's why Hobby Lobby exists. 

And, you're Pinning quotes like this, trying to find your true heart. 
Or something?
Honey you need to step away from the iPad and get some rest. 

Listen, I love Pinterest as much as anyone

But I've come to realize that - frankly - Fantasy Football has nothing on Pinterest when it comes to removing us from reality and planting us smack dab into an unrealistic, candle-lit, burlap-covered life. 

Fantasy Football or Fantasy Pinterest: Which is worse?

I mean...

You're making your husband eat salad out of mason jars. Get ahold of yourself. 

Photos courtesy of Pinterest and Pinterest Fail. Thanks for submitting them.  

Killing Jack

I'm fortunate to say that one of my two favorite places on this earth is just 36.5 miles from my driveway. 
I'm foolish to say that I don't get there nearly as much as I'd like to because of my "busy" schedule. 

Last Friday I drove to The Original Jean's house after work. We had big plans for our grandma/granddaughter date: eat one of her famous cheeseburgers, then indulge in ice-cream as Granddad did, then sort family photos. The same thing we've done for three decades. It was Friday, after all, and our diets didn't start until Monday. 

We were having a peaceful evening watching the daily murder recap on the Dayton, Ohio news station when she suddenly stopped chewing. 
"What time is it?!" The Original asked as she dropped her fork of potato salad. 
I looked to the clock that has hung over the kitchen sink for at least 30 years. 
"5:48," I told her. 
Then, she started hustling:
"We've got to get the channel changed. I have to see if Jack dies for good this time..."
Wait. What? I thought to myself. I asked for clarification. 
"Jack," she went on, "it should be this one where we find out if he dies for good or lives forever." 
I stared at her blankly. 
She tried to explain, using her terrible eyes to change the channel with her perfectly painted nails. 
"What show are you looking for?" I asked. 
"The Young and the Restless....I can't see these damn numbers anymore...."
I took the remote and switched to The Young and the Restless rerun just in time.
"I wish they'd stop beating around the bush and just kill him off..." Grandma feverishly continued. 

World. Stopped. Turning. 

Just like that - it was as though I was 25 years younger, a stout blonde with bad hair, back in my little rocking chair in front of the TV eating bologna and cheese and drinking Kool-Aid, passing time before afternoon kindergarten and waiting to see if Jack died. Now - 25 years later - I can plainly see why Momma wanted me in afternoon kindergarten: so she wouldn't miss The Young and the Restless. 

Did you know I Grew Up Rich? 

Read more here. 

"Is Jack Abbott still alive??" I asked The Original, a bit taken back as it felt like 25 years of my life flew by and somehow this slimy Jack is still escaping death avery 6 weeks. 

The Original and I continued watching the pivotal episode, my jaw fixin' to hit my dinner plate. 

Jack. 

Nikki. 

Victor. 

They were all still alive. I was certain when I graduated kindergarten they had all died in a fiery crash on their way to Malibu. 

She really did have great hair. 

Can't. Deal. With. This.  

I still couldn't get over the fact that Nikki hadn't killed Victor off. Like...she tried really hard in 1993. 

I remember. 

She reminded me of my reading teacher and scared the crap out of me.

But perhaps it wasn't the fact that they were all still alive that really had me floored, but rather the idea that my incredible grandmother - 85 years bold - is still waiting for something to happen on the screen. Day..to week...to month...to year to...decade. 

Later (but not by much) that night The Original went to bed and I continued to dive into a Rubbermaid tub of photos, sorting/labeling each one. It took so long because of gems such as this:

The handsome face of Bowman Superior Genetics.

While I sat and sorted, I couldn't help but think of - and laugh about - the soap opera situation I experienced earlier. For entertainment reasons, Grandma continued to keep up with Jack, Victor and Nikki after all of these years. Daily, wondering - without control of the situation - what is next? 

But it's more than that. 

So much more than daytime television, what things are we clinging to, keeping up with or holding on to, in hopes things will finally materialize? Or maybe even fear that they will?

The money you should have invested some time ago?
The succession plan you desperately need to address?
The wrong relationship you've tried to make work 100 times?
The plan to begin taking care of your body - your one and only body?
The resume that you need to submit?
The call you need to make, telling her how you really feel?
The two weeks you need to give?
The doctor appointment you desperately need to make but won't, out of fear?
The admission of guilt?
The sibling relationship you need to salvage?
The leap of faith keeping you awake at night?
The letter you need to write?
The application you need to submit?
The life you need to live - for yourself for once?

What are you waiting on? I sure hope it's not Jack to die off because that's taken decades....thus far. 

Would you rather change the channel and move on with your life or spend so many precious days wondering what will happen next?

Be the change agent. 

Or this could be you. 

....To be continued. 

If You Believe Everything

If you believe everything pop history tells you, you may believe that Michael Jackson was a hero. 

If you believe everything you read about agriculture, you may think that denim cows are the most mistreated animals on earth. 

If you believe everything from Washington DC, you may believe that the Oval Office was clueless about Benghazi. 

If you believe everything you hear, you may be a bit concerned about how you're fixin'  to charge your iPhone. 

If you believe everything you read, you may believe this:

But believe me: 

Don't believe everything.

Not everything you hear is true. 

Not everything you read is credible.  

Not everything you see is real. 

Not everything people say is right. 

This has become increasingly evident to me since late last week, when I read the story of the parents who have allowed their very young daughter to take on the role of a boy: dressing her that way, cutting her hair and calling her their son, because she said was a boy and didn't like dresses. 

You know what? I hated dresses as a young girl, too. 

My thighs rubbed together. 

It hurt like hell. 

I am completely taken back by this entire story, which can be debated for hours. But that's not why I'm writing. I write because the little girl's life is forever changed based off of a claim she made early, as she learned to speak. A statement of what she claimed to be at three years. Her parents believed everything. 

I could barely rationalize not strangling a sibling over a Cabbage Patch doll when I was that age.

So many young kids think they're firemen. 

Doesn't mean we suit them up and send them into the burning building. 

Young girls think they're mermaids. Doesn't mean we push them into the pool and teach them to swim. 

Kids have no idea who they are, except for who they're taught to be. 

Heck - at 20 I was barely figuring out who I was. 

You know what I thought I was when I was three-years-old?

Adopted. 

Both older siblings conspired to call me, "Lindsay Shirley Jean Bowman".

According to our "family history" (sketchy, seeing as how I never had a baby book) my real mother's name was Shirley. 

Unlike my siblings, I had green eyes because of Shirley. 

Shirley was also where I got my curls. 

(Darn you, Shirley)

Sure didn't help that we sang Psalm 23:6 before every meal at Grandma Bowman's house. 

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. - Psalm 23:6

If my real mother, Shirley,  follows me everywhere, 
why haven't I met her?

Not everything you hear is true. 

Even twenty years later, I heard something that I believed....for a bit. 

In college, a gal told me that I'd "never be anything but a big-haired-fat-person".

Ouch.

Perhaps worst of all, the scorn came from a sorority sister. 

I never truly believed her words, but I tell you what: I'll never forget them. 

It's things like that - when not paired with self confidence - people may find easy to believe. 

Thanks Betsy, wherever you are. 

Your words became a great reference for encouraging people to question to outside sources. 

If you believe everything you hear, you may make judgements based on ignorance. 
If you believe everything you're told, you may learn to dislike yourself. 
If you believe everything people say, you may question all of the hard work you've devoted to a program. 
If you believe everything, you may to not believe in anything, at all. 

Speaking of...I heard last week that scientists have discovered that solar panels are draining the sun of all of its energy. I knew I shouldn't have bought that solar powered watch, and I asked Cody to consider returning our solar powered fence charger. 

If you believe everything...