Another Facebook Crisis

I am over-commenting on Facebook. It’s an addiction. I can’t stop saying what I think about other’s people’s posts. I’ve always been a frequent Facebook poster and liker. Some people give me grief for that. Whatever, they can block me if they don’t like my posts.  But this over-commenting phenomenon started a couple of weeks ago when a colleague at school invited me to join an Israeli Babies group on Facebook for English speakers. 

I don’t know what’s come over me. The other day, when someone asked where they should have their three-year-old’s birthday party in Jerusalem, I made a suggestion. I have no business suggesting anything. I had never been to the kid portion of the place, nor do I have a three year old. Yes, I have two friends who I know from Facebook who have been there and seemed to like it (the pictures on Facebook looked good), but who am I to give it my seal of approval? And I think the woman is really going to go there with her child. Shit.  

 Here is a tiny picture from the web site of the birthday party place I recommended. I think those are remote control boats.

This addiction has now spread to giving advice on child rearing, of which again I have no true knowledge. Yes, I have a nine month old. However, I have not really read anything about raising a child. Occasionally I’ll ask her doctor, or a friend who is a doctor a question. Sometimes I open the email from Babycenter.com (found out today Goldfish crackers are not a good snack choice for your child). Really though, I have no business telling any mother anything. I had a new mom friend in Chicago who basically earned her PhD reading every baby book and attending numerous classes. She can comment with some authority. She can quote sources and compare and contrasts ideology.  So, here was my advice.  

Today someone wrote that their 18 month old isn’t sleeping through the night. I decided to comment, “Maybe you should check that he is meeting his nutritional needs? It might not be that, but it’s an easy place to start.”

What the hell do I know about toddler nutrition and its correlation to sleeping? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  Yes, I maybe, and really maybe, found a pattern in my own daughter that if she doesn’t eat enough she doesn’t sleep enough. But I don’t actually know that. It’s just a guess. 

 

Someone asked about the pros and cons of swaddling. Tons of people answered. I didn’t need to comment.  The original poster even wrote, “thank you everyone,” which is code for, okay, I don’t need more feedback. But I couldn’t help myself. “Team Swaddle,” I wrote, chuckling to myself as I hit enter. 

Here is my daughter, swaddled, several months ago. That little hand always got out.

This morning a woman with whom I went to college and haven’t seen in thirteen years posted that she was looking for a book to read that wasn’t serious and could hold her attention. To my overcommenting brain, this was an urgent matter. I searched my Goodreads and saw a book that I felt wasn’t too serious and could probably keep her attention. However, as I was posting I thought, well, maybe the first two chapters were a little slow. Maybe it won’t hold her attention. But I hit enter anyways! What if she hates the book? 

Will this book hold your attention?

This overzealous commenting is extending to my overposting. I wrote a very serious status update about a controversial issue that really is not my priority in life, but is very important to others. Yes, I think about it sometimes. However, why did I feel the need to use my page to comment on the issue? Just the other day, I felt the need to talk about Ramses II.  Sure, I’m a history teacher, but I’m not an Egyptologist. Yet, I was compelled to share.  

Still, the commenting is what is most out of control. This morning I made a biblical reference to my brother-in-law’s building posting about the building of his new home. Why? Why? 

This afternoon I indeed hit a new low. I now realize I need help. I commented on an article in a newspaper of a town where I haven’t lived in almost 20 years. I got in a fight with a guy named "TomThumb" who said women are selfish and if they weren't, they would stay at home and obey their husbands. I almost argued a hypothesis about why his screen name is TomThumb, but I held back.

This was my favorite book of short stories as a kid. It was the Jewish Tom Thumb named "K'Ton Ton."

So on my way home from work today, I reflected. I realized that I’m over-commenting on Facebook because I don’t have enough friends in Israel with whom I can share my (choose your favorite/most endearing/annoying trait of mine) neurotic, quirky,  dark, cynical, socially minded, historically informed, depressive, comedic, obsessive, new mother, newly married, Jewish, sports loving, therapeutic, pedagogical  comments. I am desperate for attention. Facebook is feeding that desperation like the plant feeds on blood. (Sorry, teaching The Picture of Dorian Gray - so many similes and metaphors!)

I go to school, and when anyone (except 3 teachers) asks me how I’m doing, I answer, great, good or fine. Because if my 30-something-self could tell my 20-something-self one thing it would be: in the work place, most people do not want to hear your complaints. “How are you” is to Americans as Bowing is to the Japanese. You just do it every time you see someone.

“How can you not have friends?” I have been asked. “You have a million Facebook friends!”  I do have friends in Chicago and in the U.S. But the time zone difference and my inability to text (another future blog post) have limited our interactions.  In Israel, I know people, but only one couple has really been seemingly excited to hang out with us semi consistently. What I have come to realize is that friendship is a need that I have, but my friends in Israel do not necessarily have the same needs or at least do not need them to be met by me, especially given that I don't live in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.  My husband has almost no need for friendships. He’s perfectly happy seeing one friend once in a while and spending his time with me. 

Meanwhile, I'm finding that besides him and my daughter, the only thing that stays by my side is my Fitbit. 

 I love you too, Fitbit.

 I long for those three mile walks on Lake Shore Drive talking with a girlfriend about everything from the meaning of life to Teresa’s possible future incarceration.  I wish I were giving unsolicited advice to my younger coworkers as they glazed over their smart phones pretending to listen to me. I miss having dinner in the neighborhood with a friend criticizing other people’s lives and concluding the evening with our own self doubts and a promise to do it again soon.

Also, because of my lack of friendships, when I do make a friend, sometimes, I overdo it. One teacher at school invited my husband and me over for dinner. I was so happy after dinner that I said to her, how about next Friday at our place?  They were like, um, maybe. They have other friends! They don’t want to spend every Friday or next Friday at our place!  Or the woman in our building who befriended me. I started talking to her about all of the clutter in the stairwells and what if there is a fire, and they should do something about that. I couldn’t stop myself and I haven’t heard from her since. I don’t blame her! (Although we do have some awesome toys her daughter can play with!)

Look, I am in a great situation. I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter, lovely in laws, a great place to live and a wonderful workplace. I’m hardly sacrificing, especially when you think of people who make real sacrifices for their families.  I’m living 10 minutes from the beach with a view of the Mediterranean Sea.

But man, do I miss my friends and family back home.

P.S. Thank you for reading my comments on my commenting. Please feel free to comment.

P.P.S. If this post makes you worried, don’t be. I’m doing well. The above is literary bulimia, nothing more, nothing less. Also, when I have tons of stuff to do, like cooking and grading, I prefer to blog.

P.P.S.S. If you call us now, it will be suspect. So maybe shoot for a couple of weeks.  Or you don't have to call. No need for pity. I have Lior, Maya and my Fitbit. :)

Scarpeta launches word game

Scarpeta will post a new word of the day and 10 words that you can't use to describe it. Your goal is to get 3 people to guess it without realizing that they are playing a game. Or make it a ritualized car pool or lunchtime game. All words are to be about something going on in the daily news. For example:

Icelandic Volcano

Any country in Western or Eastern Europe
Atlantic Ocean
Sky
Ash
Any word that does or can start with the word Air
Funeral
President
Obama
Disaster
Natural
Fire
Economic

Happy Endings

I don't really believe in the adage "things happen for a reason." However, the last several days have really been fascinating in terms of their orchestration by whomever, whatever, or just by coincidence.

So last I wrote, my purse was "stolen" and Wrote some top 10 list about it to be witty and try to cope with being very upset about my trip being delayed and losing so much money, although my parents generously offered to help me recoup it.

After posting I decided not to mope. I went on a long walk in the 30 degree weather. I called one of my best friend's, Amy, who I never talk to because when I'm out of work is her busiest time with her kids. We talked for about 30 minutes about our lives and did some nice catching up. I also talked to my friend Suzanne and saw her son Gabriel. When I came home I called the contractors who redid my kitchen and asked them to come over to see my place and maybe will finally move forward with some much needed work on my condo. That night I went to my brother and sister in law's and hung out with my nieces and just enjoyed being with them immensely and felt exponentially better after I walked in and Ava gave me a huge hug.

Saturday I went to the gym, had a great work out with Chris, then the manager at Bally's gave me a new card, told me he'd pray for me given what happened to my purse, and I saw my old trainer Bart and gave him a big hug. (I miss you so much!)

Afterwards I talked on the phone to another one of my oldest friends, Jeff, and had probably the first serious conversation we've ever had in our 30 year friendship. We spoke about how you can find value and truth in so many belief and scientific systems: medicine, psychology, homeopathy, and then we questioned whether there is value, given all of the fighting, hate, pedophilia and battles in religion.

We agreed that in religion there are truths and there are values that can, at times, be good. I'll get back to that later.

Saturday night I went out on a date. I won't say more about that, but sometimes I am too busy/too discouraged to date, and I went and it was good/maybe I'll never see him again. Don't ask me about it, please.

Sunday I went to Florida. I was welcomed with open arms by Melody, Dalia and her friend. We had a nice afternoon and evening. The next day was also great, although rainy, and I got in touch with another old friend Lisa, and chatted for a while, although we didn't end up seeing each other in Miami. Sunday night, Melody and I met a couple of nice guys from Spain who we hung out with and I spoke broken Spanish to.

And then Monday I got the call.

A woman in Bartlett, IL found my purse. The phone call was shocking because my purse had disappeared on Friday. I didn't ask her how she found it or why she waited four days to call me. I called my parents and brother to let them know and then I posted on Facebook about it. I wasn't sure how I was going to get out to Bartlett, IL, and was a little wary of going to some one's place, when my friend Heather, who I met sophomore year at IU and reconnected with several years later in Chicago, said she worked in Bartlett and would pick up the purse for me in the mobile home park where the woman lived.

On my way home from the airport, sunburned, I picked up my purse from Heather (Heather gave the woman $100 at my request) and was reunited with the money, the purse and my driver's license. (The credit cards were there too, but I had already cancelled them).

The woman gave Heather a card to give me. It had a picture of an angel and a quote on the back of the card by Billy Graham (!!!) that said, "Look up, take courage, the angels are nearer than you think." Inside she wrote me a note that said:

I found your purse at the airport - I pray you didn't have a delay because of it - I am returning it to you because the Lord says "Do unto others as you would want them to do to you." I love my Lord and hope you can trust in him also - He is faithful-

Best wishes from a friend.

Thank you to this friend and to the many others and my family who get me through each and every day. And whatever you believe or don't believe, it's nice to know how much good there really is out there.

Happy Passover, Easter and Spring to all of my Scarpeta readers.