high on arrival

I awoke this morning, and listened to the radio DJs, my eyes still closed, the cat purring on my left, Reg's breathing on my right. The DJs were reading from the MacKenzie Phillips novel, being released this week, "High on Arrival." Before I accepted my wednesday morning consciousness, I had words like incest, heroin, free-basing, and rape, swirling in my brain.

Later in the day, I logged on to facebook, something I do less and less these days, and made a comment to a co-worker's post about a patient yesterday who arrived in our clinic, adorned with a swastika tattooed on his arm. I commented that I would not want to treat him, my anger obvious. Within minutes another co-worker had responded, berating my statement, writing that we should not judge based on difference of opinions.

I was shocked.

Difference of opinions?

Seriously?

What has happened to our world?

We share our deepest, darkest, secrets- those only our therapists or best friends, the people we allow into our corners because we know they will not leave us there- should know. We share these secrets on national tv! Ms. Phillips cried on Oprah as she read from her novel, sure to be a best seller, in airport news shops the country over. And yet, we are so fearful, paralyzed in our political correctness, that we cannot publicly condemn naziism, or talk about race relations even in the context of our first black president!

We've reduced ourselves to 140 non-confrontational characters. And for what? we post private jokes, known to those only in our clique, yet we know, we want, broadcast to the entire "network." We judge others successes, seeming failures, single or togetherness, parenthood, vacations, jobs. We judge, but we post, awaiting the judgement, welcoming it? We put our private moments out there, thinly veiled, wanting it to be read.

Its like being in a global club. Spending hours to get ready, then pretending you didn't mean for everyone to notice when you walked in the room.

I dont like my facebook personality. Rather, I don't like myself on facebook. I dont like that a website can make me feel anxious and leftout, or popular and beautiful. I dont want to acknowledge that I allow it to make me feel that way. but it does.

So, whats the difference with a blog?

Yes, its a virtual, public, diary. But if you are reading this, it's because I know you, or want you to. And maybe no one is reading this, and that is more than ok. I like to think that in a year Ill read this post again, and remember. In 5, it will remind me of a hectic time in my life, ruled by phd studies, new home improvements, and a nation experiencing some growing pains with its future. And in 10 years, our children will read these posts, and think their parents were so funny. Or maybe that we were dorks, or cool to re-do a house. In 20 they'll laugh at our clothing, and, god willing, laugh at our commentaries on society, tell us that we were soo old fashioned- a black president was shocking? gay marriage was ILLEGAL? a swastika tattoo was OK? and they'll go off with their other swirl/hybrid friends to schools where they get straight As and corporations that they run, and well...ok, maybe Im getting ahead of myself.

In the meantime, I see my facebook love declining, which at this point is likely better for my studies and my soul. And I might watch less Oprah.

No promises.