Arlene Green's Open Salon Blog

Social Media and Sociology

Tue, 27 Mar 2012 03:03:55 -0400

Social media is a funny thing. It has taught me things I never thought to learn. Recently it has shed a spotlight on the fact that the people in politics are completely out of touch with the general populace. Which is probably not an earth shaking revelation for most of you. But what it also has proven to me is that the majority of us, no matter which political bumper sticker we are apt to buy, are more the same than we are different.

My Facebook wall is a bit like Switzerland. Neutral ground. I am the kind of person that tends to ignore what religion someone is or whether they have religion at all. That really doesn’t care what political party someone belongs to. What I value in a person is first how they treat those around them, second their intelligence, and third their sense of humor. As a result my friends list is like a social media Benetton ad. I chat with progressives, Tea Party conservatives, traditional liberals, Moderate Republicans, anarchists, Christians, Catholics, Muslims, Wiccans, Pagans of all stripes, Atheists, Agnostics and those who refuse all labels. There are people who think monogamy is the only way, people who believe in polyamory, and every kind of sexual orientation you can imagine.

The interesting thing is not that I am so varied in the people that I converse with; I’ve pretty much always been ecumenical in my acquaintanceships and friends. What is interesting is that they all talk to each other. On my wall. They find common ground in the things I share. They agree with each other and make each other laugh. All unaware that they exist on the other side of whatever line it is that divides them in life.

I’ve come to a couple of conclusions about this. The first being that those imaginary lines we use to define who we are are pointless, divisive and manufactured. They don’t really exist. They are something that politicians emphasize to make sure that you stay on their side of the line and vote for them. The second is that the vast majority of people are neither red nor blue in their world view. They are varying degrees of purple. And they have more in common with each other than they do with the extremists that tend to make the news and pursue careers as political pundits.

Although, the extremist pundits and loud mouths have things in common with each other. I have this recurring fantasy that involves Rush Limbaugh and Michael Moore on a tandem bicycle. Don’t ask me why, the visual tickles me. I just believe that they are flip sides to a coin. They are both entertainers and showmen. Not experts. And I doubt the sincerity of them both. They are more the same than they are different. Prone to exaggeration, sensationalism and shock value. But I digress.

Politically our country is so divided right now. But it isn’t reality. It, like those lines, is manufactured. The actual people, the bulk of the populace, only thinks they are divided. They really are not where it counts. Yes, there is a division. But it exists between the polar ends of the spectrum. The people in the middle, which is where most people reside, are divided in name only. In philosophy, where it matters, they are very much the same. Certainly there are differences and points on a curve where they vary but they all want the same things at heart. They want to be able to feed their children and live reasonably. They want to be free to be themselves. They want the government to stay out of their business as much as is possible.

Gives me hope, my wall. Because someday, and that day may not be far off, the vast swathe of Purple People is going to realize this. And when that day comes? They will shake things up in a way that is beneficial for the whole world. I live for the day.

In case you are wondering, no, I am not going to tell you which of my friends is which if you do not already know. I am going to wait for 4 years or so and let you further develop connection, common ground and relationships with each other. And then…maybe I will start a grass roots political party of my own. One that encompasses all of us and the things that really matter like opportunity to make a living and freedom to be yourself. The flag will be purple and big enough to cover us all.

Back and X-posting: Confessions of a Middle Aged Drama Queen

Fri, 18 Mar 2011 03:03:58 -0400

I started blogging again on a self published space a couple of months or so ago and in perusing my logs I realized that I should have just picked up the pieces here and not gone through all the trouble of figuring out what changes had been made to MySQL and php while I was away earning money. So I am going to cross post my stuff that I think works here now. And without further ado:

I wasn’t always a drama queen. In fact, I spent most of my adult life being very low maintenance. That hasn’t been true for a few years now. Serves me right, really. Because while I was busy being rational and low maintenance I secretly believed that those women who blamed PMS, menopause and other hormonal fluctuations for their bouts of irrationality and emotion were exaggerating. Turns out, they probably weren’t. There is poetic justice in my current state.

Medical issues and age have conspired to turn me into a homicidal maniac in sweats for about 10 days out of every month. Which I think is patently unfair. Was just run of the mill menstrual annoyance and the indignities of pregnancy not enough? They have to add temporary bi-polar disorder to the tail end of the reproductive years? Really?

Women get the short end of the stick where it comes to continuation of the species anyway. There are those who (unwisely) point out that we get to experience the wonder and joy of pregnancy and childbirth. I hate those people. Because they are either male, never been pregnant or got the pregnancy happy hormones.

There were some things about being pregnant that I enjoyed. The baby moving. The wonder of creating new life. But mostly what I got was nauseous, bloating to rival the Michelin Man, sciatica, carpal tunnel, pubic symphisis and none of the happy hormones. So in my case the wonder and joy of pregnancy and childbirth do not make up for the rest of it.

Nothing and no one ever prepared me for what the last few years have been like. Sure, I saw things about hot flashes and mood swings, but either they play that stuff down in the literature or I am the lizard queen of hormonal imbalance. I suspect both.

I also never read anything about the anger. They make reference to “irritability”. That is such a pansy word for what happens to me, “irritability”. If I am irritable then WWII was a small conflict. I’m not irritable, I’m seething, I’m angry, I’m a psychopathic man eating lion stalking around just looking for someone to give me a reason to sup on their head.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew when it was going to strike. If I could schedule it, then I could plan accordingly. Barricade myself in my office with no internet and wait it out. But noooo….it happens suddenly. I will be in the grocery store trying to remember how many cans of stewed tomatoes we have left and *whammo* something will set me off. My husband taking too long too pick out cereal, for example. When I am in a normal frame of mind the fact that it takes him 5 minutes to decide to get the same cereal he always gets amuses me. It is one of his charming little quirks. When I am in Shiva the Destroyer mode? I want to empty the cereal box over his head and then jam it down past his ears whilst screaming “It isn’t rocket science! Just get the damn cereal you always get! Auuuuuughhhhh!”

About the only upside to this is when an unsuspecting telemarketer calls and I am channeling Shiva they get blasted so hard and so suddenly that they never, ever call again. Crazy does have its uses, it turns out. Not many, but some.

You would think that these flashes of irrational anger would be more than enough. It doesn’t stop there, though. They are interspersed with highly emotional, sensitive, sniffly, will cry over medication commercials episodes. Sometimes it is a head trip and I beat myself up over whatever crazy angry thing I did last…but mostly? Mostly I don’t even know why I’m crying. I just am.

This worries those that care about me. They want to know what is wrong. I can’t tell them. Or when I do it doesn’t really make any sense. It isn’t logical. There is no cause and effect. No thing to change to make it better. So I get to add feeling guilty to the sad. In fact, I feel guilt for both the anger and the sadness. Which also makes no sense. I have very little control over either one. And I’m not big on guilt.

If I do something I shouldn’t and I realize it, I feel regret. I apologize. I put it away. I move beyond it. At least, that is the way that it worked before I ticked over the 40 mile marker. Now I have this free floating guilt about everything. It is crazy making.

I do feel bad for the people I’m close to. That guilt is real. They bear the brunt of my anger, the confusion of my sadness and the burden of trying to make sense of what I’m trying to tell them when the hormones get the upper hand. Maybe that is why I wrote this. To tell them that I know and appreciate their forbearance.

For their sakes and mine I hope this passes sooner rather than later. At this point I have decided I am just going to have to ride it out. I’ve tried medical intervention. That ended up creating more problems than it solved. I’ve tried herbal remedies…they didn’t work any better. All I have left to believe in is time. This has to end eventually right? Right?

In the meantime, I think I’ll hold off on buying that Glock I’ve had my eye on since I ceased to have small children. Somehow I think access to effective firearms might not be a good idea just yet. For anyone. I’m joking. Sort of.

Reporting From The Trenches

Thu, 4 Dec 2008 02:12:49 -0500

As I said in my earlier blog, I haven't had much time to indulge in writing. I told you I had medical and financial diffculties. That's nice and vague. I didn't have time to explain.

The medical difficulties are fixed. My immune system after a couple of rounds of chemo is not the most robust. I got an infection. I got cured of the infection.

The financial stuff? No end in sight.

First my son got laid off. So did his girlfriend. Who has two kids. They are living together. So I move them in with me. That's what I do. I have a paid for house. No one I know is going to go begging for a roof if I can help it. Not even her 16 year old brother who also lives with her.

Shortly after that my husband also got laid off. So here we are. There are now 10 people living in my home and I am the only person with a job. Sort of. I'm a contractor. And my income has dropped to alarming levels. No one wants to hire expensive old me right now.

We won't starve. I've got a couple of greenhouses because I always knew they would come in handy. The house is paid for. Even if we can't make the electric bill, which is a touch and go thing, we have heat via the wood stove. Although I need electricity to make money just like I need the internet connection. I got rid of cable TV but the cable internet is a necessity.

We'll survive.

But I don't like it. I hate, hate, hate having to think about what I can buy so that I'm sure I can meet the heating and light bill. I hate measuring every grocery dollar I spend against how many people it will feed and for how long. I hate being worried that one of my kids or my animals will get sick and it will break us treating them.

I hate it.

And I haven't had to deal with that kind of insecurity since I was young and broke and had no resources. I shouldn't have to deal with it now. But I do.

The economy is screwed. In spite of all my careful planning so am I. Mostly. I won't starve, I won't freeze, I won't be made homeless. But I and all those I care for are going to suffer.

I always wanted to be a matriarch. The one everyone looks to in times of trouble. This is not a good time to realize you are. Not at all.

1950s Mommy Guilt and Us

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 22:11:48 -0500

I haven't updated my blog in months. Not because I didn't want to. Because I had a health crisis that was chased like a cat by a terrier by a financial crisis. I had neither the time nor the energy to write. Not for no money.

But I just ran in to a work related thing that won't go away if I don't exorcise it by writing about it. I'm losing sleep, so money or not, better I pound it out here.

A certain client of mine hires thousands of contractors. They kindly provide a message board for these people to interact. A couple of days ago someone started a thread on this board about how guilty they felt working at home because their kids get ignored.

Huh?

A big part of the reason that I became a contractor was that I had a million kids and I wanted to be around for them. But my work time? The kids always knew that unless there was blood or the communists invaded that mommy's work time was mommy's work time. I had no guilt over telling/teaching them to deal with their own drama. I chose to be there so I could be there when it was really important. But "Mommy play with me, I'm bored."

Not really important.

Where did women get the idea that to be a good mommy you have to pay attention and cater to your child's every little whim?

Historically the SAHM is an anomaly. At least the SAHM June Cleaver, Donna Reed approved mom. They didn't exist in any numbers that are statistically significant. Most of history you had to be rich to be wife and mother and nothing else. Women have always worked. The 1950s housewife is a myth. Or at least so rare that she might as well be.

The ability to stay at home at cater to the spawns every whim is a luxury. Throughout history women have worked their asses off. I'm pretty sure that 1850s women didn't get all guilt stricken because they couldn't play aughts and crosses with little Johnny.

I've decided that guilt is a choice these women make based on a skewed view of history. It has to be. Historically women birthed the babies and then worked their fingers to the bone to make sure they had enough to eat so they would survive.

Guilt over play time is a brand new thing. It isn't bad, exactly, but if you have to work for your grocery money you ought to realize that feeding your kid is more important than playing with them if it means playing with them will lower the money you have to buy groceries.

Seems simple, yes? Apparently it isn't.

Reality Check: Shoplifting, Drunks and Whining

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 07:08:39 -0400

Dear Arlene,

Last night, my son told me that his best friend had gotten arrested yesterday, for shoplifting when my son was with him. My son is under 18, however his friend just turned 18 in June. My son says he had not shoplifted yesterday, however he admitted to me that he had stolen some items last month when he was in the company of this same friend (and the friend had shoplifted then too). He said he didn’t know if he would have stolen something if his friend had not been caught. Both of them could easily afford to purchase the items.

My son told me that after the drama of being taken into the office by the security guards, being talked to by the loss-prevention people and seeing his friend taken away in a police car, he came home, retrieved the items he stole last month, and took them back to the store. He said he handed the items (a shirt and some flip-flop type shoes) to a cashier, told the cashier that he had stolen them last month, and left the store.

My son seemed remorseful as well as frightened. He said he told me about it because he wanted me to hear it from him, and not from his friend’s parents or anyone else. He said he never wanted to feel that scared, stressed and embarrassed again.

I think I am not reacting appropriately. I am upset with him for his behavior; however I am at a loss to come up with a consequence that is neither over nor under-reacting. My first response was to tell him that I appreciated that he told me, and I acknowledged that it must have been very difficult to do. I told him I would be watching him carefully for the foreseeable future and that he was prohibited from buying anything without my permission, and that he could expect that I would be asking him about his whereabouts, what he is doing, who he is with, etc. etc. for quite a while in the future. I told him he will have to work to rebuild my trust and that I was deeply disappointed in his lack of judgment.

Should I take away his car, or assign him some onerous chore (clean the garage), make him give up his iPod? His friend is leaving for college in about a week (out of state) so I don’t think banning them from associating with each other is necessary or useful. I don’t see the point in blaming his friend for being a bad influence; instead I want my son to take responsibility for his actions and face the consequences. Has he already done that? What should I do now?

Signed,

Worried Mom

Dear Worried Mom-

You know how Bill Cosby used to say that all children are brain damaged? Well this is the kind of situation he might have had in mind for older teens when he said it. Kids do stupid stuff. Sometimes stupid stuff that if they get caught at it will result in major repercussions.

What strikes me about your situation is that your son, of his own volition, told you what happened. He didn't have to do that and I imagine it took a bit more than a tiny bit of courage to do so. He then went one further and told you about a time that he did shoplift. I know for a fact that as a teen I wouldn't have done either of those things. Because I did something very similar to what your son did and my parents still don't know about it. Of course, if they read this the cat may be out of the bag, but I'm going to tell you my story anyway because it has some bearing on your situation with your son.

When I was around 16 years old I went to our local Fred Meyer's store and shoplifted several small items. To this day I'm not quite sure why. I wasn't a happy teen and that could have been part of it but I could easily have paid for the items and I knew what I was doing was wrong. I was incredibly nervous about the whole thing. I zig zagged through the store convinced that I was going to get caught. When I made it out of the store I was overtaken by a crisis of conscience and went back into the store to put the stuff back. Ironically, that was when they caught me. I had, in fact, been spotted but the guy had lost me in the store and didn't spot me again until I was coming back in to make it right.

They took me to the office and the most mortifying part of it was that the company that handled theft prevention was owned by the same guy that employed my mother in another job setting. The man who caught me didn't know who I was but the man sitting behind the desk recognized me. I babysat for his boss. He'd met me. Instead of calling the police he called his boss.

The boss, Clyde, came down to the store and talked to me. He told me much the same thing that I am telling you. Which is that kids do some stupid things and that he had, in fact, done some really stupid things when he was young. The important thing was that they learned from them. He didn't tell my parents. I wasn't allowed in the store for a year and had to work to pay off the items I had taken and removed from their packaging but I got off very lightly all things considered. He asked me a year later if I had ever been tempted to steal again and I was able to tell him absolutely not with complete honesty.

In my case, and it sounds like in your son's case, that was all it took. There was no real need of serious consequences because the point of consequences is to train kids what is and is not acceptable. In that moment when I was being escorted to the office by the security guy and visions of jail danced through my head I realized exactly how stupid what I had done was. I always knew it was wrong but it took that near miss at a police record for me to really understand what the consequences could be and how not worth it the whole thing was. Fear has a way of clarifying that kind of thing in your head.

That's what I think happened for your son. He had an epiphany. The consequence of losing your trust and you riding herd on him with vigilance is probably enough. Chores, grounding, taking away stuff...they won't really teach him anything more than he has already figured out. I think that this was your son's one really stupid thing and that he showed more courage in facing up to the situation than most kids his age would. Do watch him closely because I could be wrong and this could be the tip of something more serious but I don't think so. It sounds to me that your son learned exactly what he needed to learn.

Best,

Arlene

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Dear Arlene,

I’m supposed to go on vacation with my mother in early September. Along with the fact that I’m I have a health condition that makes me feel like crap some of the time, my mother is a drunk. Her main impetus for taking this trip, besides having a weekend with her daughter, is to go to a Glenfiddich Scotch tasting. It starts at two in the afternoon on a Friday, which means she’ll be shitty by happy hour.

She bought weekend passes for us both, which could be great fun if she could maintain but I see myself playing babysitter more than participant. Friday night is a banquet followed by a dance/party all packed with music I enjoy, and I’d love to enjoy it without worrying about the state of my mother’s drunkenness and what person she’ll turn into when she inevitably crosses “the line”. Will she be angry at the world anarchist? Sobbing uncontrollably widow? Slut ready to hop into bed with anyone, typically someone my age or younger? I’ll never be able to relax and just enjoy the atmosphere.

The weekend is packed with activities, concerts, more banquets, a lot of fun. But I see her waking up Saturday a.m. hung-over and either bailing on stuff or drinking from the get-go to compensate. My husband has volunteered to go in my place if I’d like but the guilt generated from doing something like that overwhelms me. I know I can tell her I’m ill which is the truth though I am able to take the trip (at least right now I am) and she’d understand but she would also be disappointed. I realize I sound like a whiny wimp but the two of us have “issues” and I am loathe to exacerbate them.

Signed,

Undecided Daughter

Dear Undecided,

I assume there is no chance that you can steer her away from the Scotch tasting? In your place I would likely be facing the same dillema. To go or not to go, that is the question.

This sounds like something that you would really, really enjoy if it were not for your mommy issues. So you have to decide, do you go and put up with her or not go and disappoint her? If you go what you need to do is not babysit her. Let her run amok. She's a grown woman and so are you. Her drinking is not your responsibility nor is what version of Mrs. Hyde it turns her into. Easier said than done, I know, but if you are to have any chance at all at having a good time that is what is going to have to happen.

If she gets angry walk away and find somewhere else to be. If she gets maudlin hand her a tissue and find somewhere else to be. If she gets slutty, just walk away. None of those things are your responsibility to mitigate or help her through. If she has always been a drunk, and I suspect she has, you probably have a lifelong pattern of taking care of mom on a bender. Maybe this trip can be your first stab at breaking that pattern.

If there is no way that you can possibly enjoy yourself or try to detach from her drinking and the resulting shenanigans and you decide not to go, there is absolutely no reason for guilt. I know you will feel it anyway but you wouldn't be bailing on the trip because of some failing on your part, you would be bailing because your mother is a big problem. That's on her, not you. Try to remember that. Just because she likely wouldn't understand that doesn't mean that you have to feel guilty over it.

This is one of those situations where there isn't really a cut and dried answer for what you should do. I wish I had one. Whatever you decide try to make it the choice that makes you the happiest. Don't worry about what it will make her feel because if it weren't for her you wouldn't have to make such a decision.

Sincerely,

Arlene

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Dear Arlene,

Do you have any suggestions for teaching a somewhat physically fearful 6 year old child to ride a bicycle? She's starting to get it, and has pedaled for about 10 feet while balancing, but she whines and cries when she falls over, and says, "I hate bike riding! I don't ever want to do it!" I get frustrated and annoyed with the whining and end up wanting to throw my hands in the air and say, "Fine! I don't care!"

Signed,

Frustrated

Dear Frustrated,

Nope. No suggestions. She will either finally get over the fear and learn how or she won't. My advice is to just let it go. Learning to ride a bike is not a developmental milestone. If she never learns how it doesn't matter at all. She actually sounds smarter than your average bear to me. Most children that age have no concept of their mortality and even when they do something that ends up causing them pain they seem to need to experience it several times before they finally get it.

Your daughter has figured out that falling down hurts. She doesn't like doing it and she knows that riding a bike carries a good chance that she will fall down. Nothing illogical about that. I'd have much less in the way of scars from childhood if I had been as logical as she is. So just don't push it. Or worry about it. Encourage her but let go of the idea that this is something that she needs to do and let her do it in her own time. Buy earplugs for the whining. Okay, no earplugs, but I do think if you stop expecting her to do it without complaining about the spills the frustration and annoyance with the whining will go down.

Best of Luck,

Arlene

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Questions can be sent by using the messaging system at the top left of the page or by emailing me at arlene.l.green@gmail.com. Answers will be posted every Tuesday and Friday that I have questions to answer.