Tag Archives: technology

Selfies Are Easy When You Are Five

My daughter can take a selfie much better than I can. The other day I picked up my phone and had 25 new photos of her that I did not take. She took them all by herself with her itty bitty hands. She didn’t even need a selfie stick.

The Selfie Master
The Selfie Master

She has no fear, no shame, no concern for food in her teeth or wrinkles around her eyes. She doesn’t care about her hair or her eyebrows or even if she gets her entire face in the shot. She only cares about being awesome so she is awesome. Totally.

Once again my technology skills have been minimized by a child who cannot even write her own name. I’m dreading the day she changes all of my ringtones and reconfigures my text messages in ways I cannot even begin to fathom. I thought I was so hip with my blog and social media prowess and now I just feel like a technological dinosaur.

My daughter is the Apple Watch and I am Atari. She is fearless and confident and I am cautious and more cautious with extra caution. She looks gorgeous without even trying and I need a visit by a cosmetic genius and an old-lady lighting crew (the kind that makes you look like you are in a permanent movie dream sequence). Phew, this being a grown up thing is getting harder and harder. I’m starting to truly hate the words “mature woman” and since I am turning 40 in a few days I’m feeling especially vulnerable. In between trying not to look out of date I also have to not become outdated. Meanwhile, this five-year old girl is already racing past me in every way I can imagine.

The only thing left for me to do is to prevent her from doing something crazy…like starting her own blog where she writes about her aging mother and shares the really bad selfies her mother takes…even after years of practice. It won’t be long before she figures out how to use WordPress, or Blogger, or Blog Creator Unlimited (yet to be invented) and starts telling the world stories in her own words and from her own, unique perspective. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified. I mean, if she starts documenting our lives you’ll likely see me in my mismatched pajamas and sticking up hair and really bad decision-making ( especially when it comes to whether or not dessert is appropriate after breakfast). I see the future and the future is bleak…Motherhood EXPOSED.

What’s that saying? Pay back’s a witch  (or something along those lines). It won’t be long before I have to take a dose of my own tell-all medicine. I’m not sure I’m going to be prepared for that or like it.

How about you?


I Hate When The Internet Controls My Emotions.

Winter Tree art
When the Internet controls your emotions you sometimes feel sad even when you don’t want to. 9×12 alcohol ink on Yupo paper.

I know after reading my title you are going to tell me that nobody can control my emotions. I can see you clearly, in my mind’s eye, struggling to refrain from yelling, “Stop saying the Internet controls your emotions, nobody controls your emotions, but you, Lady!” I know. It’s true and thank you for not yelling at me by the way. I appreciate your patience. I really do.

I should have written the title more like this : I Hate When I LET The Internet Control My Emotions.

Because I do let the Internet control my emotions more often than I’d like to admit. I see an adorable kitten snuggled up to a fox, sleeping with a dog, and I feel my heart breaking with the adorableness of it all. I read about war and starvation and young girls getting raped and I feel so angry I could explode and then so sad I could cry myself into oblivion. I try to make a picture appear inside a box on my blog and it won’t work and my email keeps locking me out and I could pull out all of my hair in frustration. Darn you Internet machine! Why can’t you be easier to use?

People hurt my feelings by unsubscribing from my blog or from my Twitter feed or by just  ignoring me all together. I find myself thinking, “I thought we were friends…?” People write mean things in the comment sections of blogs and mock the writers courageous enough to share their heartfelt, often tragic stories. People cling to imaginary cliques and spew angry words and stab at each other with letters and punctuation. It’s ugly. It’s sad. It’s mean. It’s boring. Still, I feel it. I feel all of it.

People go on better vacations than I do and cook better and clean better and look better and teach better and spell better and dance better and paint better and there is always someone doing it better and faster and smarter…I feel small and fragile and unsure. I wonder if I am even functional and if other people just live better than I do? Where do I fit into all of this? It’s all so amazing and overwhelming. You are all so amazing and overwhelming…and beautiful. It’s exhausting. I can barely keep up.

The Internet makes me laugh. The funny people are so funny. I could laugh until I cry or my side splits open or my face hurts so badly from smiling that I can’t smile any longer. The jokes! The laughter! The awesomeness of having a friend who lives in Malta or Australia or London or Virginia…it’s so exotic and exciting and intoxicating. It’s so big. The world is all there, right in front of me and it is funny, and warm, and inviting, and joyful. It’s Bigger than me and I am a part of it. I am connected. I am loved by people I may never meet and I love them back just as deeply. I tell them my secrets. I tell them my hopes. I tell them my fears…and they accept me. I feel all of the happiness. All of it!

I feel so much hope when I read about a brave little girl who overcomes the obstacle of gunfire to go to school or how people all over the world donated money to help someone get cancer treatment. I see people taking steps toward fairness and justice by writing about hard topics. I see people standing up for one another and doing things that make a real difference. I see people overcoming adversity and setbacks and triumphing over evil and making so much out of absolutely nothing. I am in awe of you. All of you. I am inspired too.

I feel pride when my friends brag about their children being kind and smart and silly. I see pictures of my family growing older and getting stronger and building lives. I cheer on people I have never met in person who are publishing their own books and making art and writing songs. I admire people who get up everyday and go to a job they truly dislike so they can put food on the table and still have enough energy to find the humor in their circumstances and to blog about it because they want to make sure nobody feels alone in this world. They are good people.

I feel proud of my human brethren. I celebrate their victories. I dance when they dance. I sing when they sing. I cry when they cry. I feel it. I feel all of it. I feel the connectedness and the loneliness. I feel the sadness and the joy. I feel the anger and the indifference. I feel it all.

I hate when the internet controls my emotions. I hate when I let the Internet control my emotions, but sometimes it does. Sometimes more than I care to admit.



I Am Having Technical Difficulties

crabby t-shirt
I should be wearing this today.

I am having technical difficulties today. I mean more than usual. I have to postpone my Examining The Creative Mind Series until later in the week.

It’s been a rough day so far, mostly because I woke up grumpy and thought it was Monday. I also have, “What’s up? Chicken Butt!” stuck in my head. I swear someone broke into my house while we were sleeping and used every dish we own and then left it on the counter. Did I mention I also managed to dye the roots of my hair blond while the rest of my hair is still dark brown?

I have a stack of bills and packages to mail, but I can’t leave the house until I finish washing my hat (and drying it) because, well, did I mention my hair is ombre, but not in the good pink fades to blue Pinterest way, but more in the I am a blind, old lady, do it yourself  kind of way? Yeah. I’m also supposed to take Tiny-Small to the park to mingle with normal children. Children with parents who have clean dishes and moms with hair that sort of matches their eyebrows. Good grief, if only I could wake up and start this day again.

I’ve been fighting with my blog for a while now. It’s winning. My pictures are too big so I have been trying to go through each post and resize the photos. I’ve also been trying to make this blog look more professional which really means more gadgets and weird writing done by me on the spur of the moment. I have another blog. An art blog that I have only posted twice on. I can’t decide if I should keep it or let it go. I have an art Facebook page too. Do I keep it? Do I let it go? Do I let this blog go and focus on the art. Do I just start over and get a new blog, a new website? One where everything I do is under one roof with my name as the title? I’ve been reading all of these things…SO MANY THINGS! This whole blogging, internet business stuff is like a marathon. I am running in a race with no arrows pointing me in the right direction. I might not be running in the direction of the finish line. I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I have been at this crossroads staring up and down each road, afraid to make a move. I’m blog-paralyzed. I’m Internet stunned. I’m like a rat caught in a maze (or guinea pig). I’m like a mom, who paints, with too many things to do, who still wants to have a website that is awesome and amazing and not boring like this post.

Anyway, the only reason I am even posting today is to tell you I am guest posting over at Equis Place where Xiomara writes beautiful blog posts. She’s such a gifted writer. I felt really honored when she invited me to guest post on her blog. My Post is Am I A Work At Home Mom? where I am sort of ranting about identity and why we have to label ourselves. Go check it out! If you have a blog you might join her new link up and check out some of the other bloggers sharing their posts. Xiomara turned my photos into Polaroid pictures. Talk about old fashioned. She probably wasn’t even born yet when those cameras were popular. I have reached an age where what was once old is new again. Sigh…I am just going to go hide under a blanket and watch bad TV with my blond roots and figure out what to do next.

Hopefully, I’ll start to conquer some of these technical difficulties. If not, be prepared to hear about it. You can call me a crybaby. I’ll own that.


For those of you who want to see my hair (I can’t believe I am doing this) you can check out my album on Facebook That Day I Dyed My Roots Blond. So, my hair is still wet in the pictures and it looks much worse in person. I just can’t get my arms far enough away from my head to give you the big picture.