Logging In To Facebook

facebook (Photo credit: sitmonkeysupreme)

It has been just over a year since I logged into Facebook.

Originally I was reluctant. Mainly because of the hype, and legitimately so, about security or lack there of.

Well, in spite of being a shy person, I happen to also love people. I am also very curious, l love to learn, to create to new experiences, challenge a trend, and throw myself at pop culture - eagerly jumping on the bandwagon of adventure.

The more I listened to others talk about the social media movement the more inquisitive I became.

A lot has changed since joining Facebook.

It seems to me that everyone’s motivation for “logging in” is different. Each user has their own participation and tolerance level.

For me I am lucky. I have great friends and family. They are, each in their own way, superstars of their own galaxies. Even though opinions, political beliefs, age, religion, and life experiences may be vastly different there are many things that are similar. And, that is what makes the whole experience enjoyable and exciting.

Everyday talented people share with one another not only their thoughts and values but their compassion and desire to continually be evolving into someone better than they already are.

At times there are indeed questions, struggles, and pain and also great celebrations. Either way within nanoseconds of these posts threads appear with greetings of cyber hugs, high fives, and moreover love.

Facebook has made me aware of my own thoughts, opinions, attitudes, and how I express myself.... what I share and what I don’t.  

From time to time others have tried to put their stamp of approval or doubt on my activities. Surprising yes, disappointing one could say that. Do I care? I consider the feedback and remind myself that I am who I am in all my glorious strengths and all my incredible weakness - like it or lump it. The truth is I can’t control how you feel about anything and nor do I want to because I can only control myself.

The freedom to express oneself is a privilege that many in this world don’t have. It is easy to forget that because it is not part of everyone’s reality.

While it saddens me to learn about people choose to use social media opportunities as a format for their own deviate, unchecked emotional and behavioral crisis and even more so the increasing lack of trust that exists between employers and employees. (We all know the stories of bullying, cyber-stocking, defamation of character, and fraud.) The good news we are now talking about it because of social media as the bad news is these things already take place everyday around the world with or without social media.

That is the one blessing about being online – the control for the time being - lies somewhat in the hands of the user. And from my experience – if given the opportunity to show it people are pretty darn smart. We also can be pretty darn stupid. It is that balance which is the best news of all.

Either way we at the beginning and the end of the day we are just people. Cyber space shows us our own humanity. We – you and me - chose how we will evolve.

Like I said, a lot has changed since joining Facebook.

But, then again, it's just my Opinion.

The Diary Collection

With my cup of coffee in hand I leave the kitchen and enter the living room, walking by the dining room table I grab one diary.

It is not mine. It is my Uncle Rixon's. I pick: October 1st to June 30th 1942-3.

This past spring Rixon's daughter Gertrude passed away.

Aunt Gertrude, as she was affectionately known to her cousins and their children, had left me some items from her estate.

Aunt Gertrude’s mother, Adele, was known for her love of jewelry. My plan was to give each of the granddaughters one piece. Thinking it would be the start to a nice family tradition. Unfortunately, once the boxes were opened almost all of it had disappeared.

Right now there are two ways I could go with this story. One to discuss protecting our aging love ones from those who seem to think they can take advantage of their vulnerabilities or I can talk about what was left.

I opt to focus on what remains.

Over the summer I had organized pictures and trinkets for other family members and during the Christmas Holidays more time was dedicated to Aunt Gertrude by finishing off the decision making.

There was an endless sea of papers, pictures, Bibles, and notes. Wasn’t sure if we were going to get through it all; we did and unexpectedly we began to understand who these people were. The prized possession? The dozen or so diaries belonging to Uncle Rixon.

In his time writing entries into a Diary was an accepted form of expression which generally highlighted the activities of daily life. 

He tried to get his daughter Gertrude to do the same. There were a few attempts from her. I had a chuckle or two because this is where one can see the next generation begin to rebel against the established way of doing certain behaviors. Clearly, she hated it and rather than talking about what was going on around her in a somewhat object way she wanted to talk about how she was feeling and sensing the world. 

Is keeping a diary any different than what is happening in the modern era with people around the world expressing their life experiences and thoughts through mediums such as Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and Google+?  And, what about those reality television shows?

People seem to have a strong desire to tell their story of how they see the world.

As posted on Wikipedia a story is described by Reynolds Price as: a need to tell and hear being is essential to the species Homo sapiens – second in necessity apparently after nourishment and before love and shelter. Millions survive without love or home, almost none in silence; the opposite of silence leads quickly to narrative, and the sound of story is the dominant sound of our lives, from the small accounts of our day's events to the vast incommunicable constructs of psychopaths...

Further to Wikipedia.... storytelling is the conveying of events in words, images and sounds, often by improvisation or embellishment. Stories or narratives have been shared in every culture as a means of entertainment, education, cultural preservation and in order to instill moral values.

Now a days the ways to communicate our stories seem endless.

In his daily entries Uncle Rixon writes what he does first thing in the morning “disposing of correspondence." Next on to his job as an engineer in the transportation industry and his Headquarters being Port Arthur, Ontario the District is Nagogami to Manitoba, back around to his wife Adele and daughter Gertrude, attending services at both the Anglican Parish and United Church – counting the number of children who attended Sunday School, Choir, chopping wood, enjoying the outdoors, and fussing endlessly over the gladiolus bulbs.

Isn't "disposing of correspondence" the same as checking our emails and text messages? It seems to me the art of expression is still occurring. We have just merely changed the way we are recording our history.

Rather than giving each granddaughter a piece of Aunt Adele’s jewelry. They are instead getting a religious book of some sort.

At the end of the day in spite of all the seemly missing items along with piles of things left behind when my Aunt moved for the first time what mattered the most - the real moral backbone and treasure of this family - was their Church and its community. Without those diaries and the stories that Uncle Rixon left behind that point was - and may - have been missed entirely.

What's your story? thInQ About It!

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Inspiration? Wasn't Expecting That!

A couple of weeks ago one of the people at the gym that I have gotten to know came up to me and said, “You inspire me.”

Wasn't expecting that.

Image via Wikipedia

While we were having a bit of a visit I kept thinking... how on earth could I be an inspiration to this woman? She is drop dead gorgeous. I am honoured and the same time befuddled.

The truth is she, along with a handful of others, are the ones that keep me going. (aside from the inner fear that one day Paul Plakas will make a surprise appearance and I will be made to run through some ridiculous obstacle course in front of everyone)

Last fall when I resumed my membership at the gym I knew it was going to be a big commitment. It was much harder than expected.

There are two parts of the gym one for women and the other coed. While getting my feet underneath me I hung out on the woman’s side. Everyday taking the electronic fitness test on the Precor machine and everyday failing.

One of my friends was taking Zumba and being the silly willy I can be I used to hide behind the machines making faces at her and shaking my bootie while she was dancing. All fun and games until the gal in front of her thought I was putting the moves on her and was winking back.

Time to move to the coed side.

And like my usually self I went over there with the intent of making new friends.  

(There was one individual in particular that I planned to meet. Big Red. Of course as luck would have it my tongue got wrapped around my tonsils, my inner 12 year old came out and to this day I have never been able to speak. If my ogling hasn’t gotten on his nerves I can guarantee you it has definitely gotten on mine. Although I am certain if I looked behind me there is a long line of people wanting to shake the hand of the one who actually rendered me silent! )

Aside from messing it up with Big Red I made a series of additional errors by saying hello to a couple of people. It was kind of an odd feeling when I was met with the laser hairy eyeball stare, as in “what in the hell are you doing?” I didn’t understand it. The third situation one little pup told me to get the “heck out of the road” when he wanted the bench I was using. I still have not found my forgiveness button and every time I see him I secretly want to trip him – although that wouldn’t be very nice. 


Right then and there I decided that if I was going to do this it was going to be done my way - with or without the Lulu Lemon headband.

Needless to say, and this took me a bit of time to understand, I hadn’t just entered a gym where I was going to work out and meet friends. I had entered into a community and it was going to take a bit of time before in-roads were going to be made and the friend thing was going to have to wait.

While waiting I was reminded that communication 80% body language and even though I was in a place  filled with people who have nearly perfect bodies (because they work at it) there were just a few who really popped out of the crowd. And, that has to do with their inner mojo  - they have a special bounce in their step and a sauce in their swagger. Interestingly enough they also seem to me to be the ones who are the most disciplined with their workout routines.

These are the folks who inspire me and fortunately I have gotten to know most of them.... except for Big Red and Curly.

My quick visits with Candace and on occasion with her man Alex are always the opening act.  I have been amazed by Courteney’s transformation. Jeannette who digs deep into her work outs and Mike who is always checking to make sure that life treating me well. If it wasn’t for the gym I probably would never see Roj.

There have been invitations to join classes and messages of encouragement.

My pal Jen is a spark in the dark and she has the most amazing laugh never mind killer abs. She reminds us via Twitter and through her Facebook posts that she isn’t always up.

And  - that is other great part of this community. Somehow we keep each other going with high fives and you go because without it would be too easy to go home and curl up on the sofa to watch the rerun of Bridgette Jones Diaries while munching on a box of bonbons.

Inspiring people are around you every single day. They are the ones who stir the tiny sparks of desire within so that you find yourself saying: I can do that! I can do that!

It is not the same as being competitive. It is really the beginning of a great adventure should you decide to take it. Where are you inspired to go?

ThInQ About It!

And while doing that how about a little Miley Cyrus as posted on Youtube.

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