Information Overload

Computers and technology are great, ever-changing upgrade and the ability to conduct business transactions, services, and communicate all over the world in a matter of seconds is what the first decade of the 21st century has been all about.

While computers, crackberries, ipads, facebook, tivo and droids can perform what people couldn't even imagine fifty years ago, I think all the technology overload is killing our social skills, relationships, and happiness. 

And this is from a girl who MET and MARRIED a man from eHarmony.  I am not going to say that what technology advances have done for society is all bad, or even half bad; but what I see happening is as humans become increasingly obsessed, immersed, absorbed and dependent on technology, they forget (or are completely unable to) clear their memory, empty trash, and reboot.

Shut the TV off, turn off the cell phone, put down the laptop and read a book, have a conversation, write a LETTER.  Go to Starbucks and see if anyone there is without a laptop, cell phone, or ipod, tuning the world out around them.  I am as guilty of this tech-culture as the next, and admit one of the greatest things about laptops/cell phones is their portability and versatility to adapt with our ever-changing schedules and actively busy lifestyles.   Also, however, these technologies which ware supposed to create accessibility and ease with our lives cause more and more pain, anxiety and heartache.  Anyone who has ever accidentally sent an e-mail (reply all) or text the wrong person, or typed a 20 page paper in college only to have their computer freeze on the closing paragraph knows the pain associated with the technical world.  But could we have it any other way? Not really, I don't think society lets us have that choice anymore. 

The other night, Bryan didn't have his phone, and the last time I spoke with him was 4pm, when we said "I'll see you later."  In between 4pm and "later" a lot of things happened, I went a lot of places, and ended up knowing I was going to be home later than his probably anticipated "later" to mean.  I worried, got a knot in my gut as I tried to figure out a way to get a hold of him to let him know I would be home around 9pm.  Firework show? Smoke Signal? Call a neighbor (oh wait, we don't have our neighbor's phone numbers), call a family member and have them driver over to the house? Wait, I don't even know if he's at the house....these are the thoughts that were rushing around in my head because of no cell phone!

It's amazing, what life must have been like before cell phone! I mean, ever since I have had a CDL there have been cell phones.  And the pace of life just keeps getting faster and faster as technology makes tehse leaps and bounds forward, and us humans are trying to keep up and add more and more lists of things to do into our schedule, BECAUSE WE CAN - in the car, waiting at the doctors office, you can work from anywhere, research anything on the world wide web at any time, and order food online - now you don't even have to call and talk to a person.  And if you called, you probably would have the option to dial it in through your touch tone phone and not even get a real person.

All this to say, the beauty of slowing down and simple heart-felt, non-electronic gestures and activities are truly what I think we need more of in our lives.

Interaction.  Conversation.  Hand-written notes and cards delivered through standard mail.  A lunch uninterrupted by e-mails, pings, texts, and calendar alarms.  But then again, maybe technology will come up with a "DELETE TRASH" pill, or maybe they already have....

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The Russian Mafia is in my Kitchen and Chocolate Ice-Cream is on the White Couch...

We all have secrets.  The kind of secrets that do not escape the front door.  Like the mess we make when no one is around, or the entire meal we burn only to start over again, or realistically, pour a bowl of cereal and call it a night.  The idiosyncrasies and nuances that the first few months of marriage reveal are timeless, classic, memories.  This week Bryan and I learned a bit more about each other.

As Murphy's law would have it, the past two weeks both of our cars have broken down and been in the shop, the refrigerator service light is on, and our dishwasher has been broken for 3 weeks (my life mimicking a country song).

I have been boycotting doing dishes on principal alone.  B, because he was dutifully in charge of handling the maintenance repair for the dishwasher, has drudgingly, yet faithfully been hand-washing the stacks of pots, pans and plates that accrue exponentially.

A couple weeks ago, B called a repair service, and a Russian man came out to the house, late at night, to provide an estimate for repair.  Upon departure, he told B he would have to special order a part, and he would get back to us once it was in.  The company called a week later to set up a follow up appointment.  B waited around for 3 hours one night waiting for the Russian who ended up standing us up.

The following few days B placed multiple calls to this mystery Russian Repair Company.  The reason for the extended delay, we were told, was because the part that was needed for our dishwasher was back-ordered, naturally.  So we waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  Finally, we were told the part was in and our appointment was scheduled for Monday evening from 6pm-9pm!

At about 8:30pm, two disheveled Russians arrived at our door: the man who had come out to provide the estimate and his sidekick/ Russian Mafia understudy.

At this point, we were desperate to have a machine wash our dishes.  They came in and immediately took over the entire kitchen, spralling out and prohibiting my dinner preparations. I was making a Gluten Free pizza crust, which is easier said than done.   I stop preparations and decide this is as good a time as any to go to Fed-Ex to pick up a mystery delivery that we had received two notices on our front door about, but of course were not home to sign for the package, whatever it is.

I come home to sweaty Russian #1 spralled out on the kitchen floor and see the dishwasher is now fully dismantled.  Realizing this is not a good time to continue preparing the dinner, I retreat to the bathroom to color by roots.  B is left standing by in the family room amidst streams of Russian curses and grumbling about "custom" installed dishwashers.  The Russians continue to converse as if we are not home.  The understudy was standing by, arms folded, brow furrowed, as if he was doing something important.  All he really did though was repeat everything his master said.

Finally, I cannot wait any longer and I squeeze in behind the Russian on the floor to remove the pizza from the oven.  The top is burnt and the crust resembles nothing of a pizza dough crust.

The Russians are finally finishing up.  They say, as they check various parts of the machine, "See work Perfect."  He turns on the hose and water sprays everywhere.  The understudy assuredly states "That's Normal, thats normal."

The leader says  "Oh shit what happened here, what happened here." B says, "Wait a minute that didn't happen before."  Russian leader says, "How do I know that didn't happen before?"

He fixes the geyser and returns to his check list, "Oh-key.  Start good.  Oh-key. Stop good.  Oh-key.  Drain good. Oh-key. Check the hoses in the back good.  Oh-key.  Inspect this, good.  Oh-key ever-tin good."

$400 dollars later, they finally leave at 9:13pm, I am finished eating the pizza-nast, and am enjoying my pint of coconut chocolate ice cream on our white couch with a full head of dark brown/black dye.  Bryan tells me to be careful with my hair on the white couch! I tell him I will be good.  I dig deep in the pint for a big spoonful of chocolate therapy and flip, now there is chocolate ice-cream on our white couch.  Bryan just LAUGHS.  He says, I needed that.  I can't help but laugh too, and thank God for Folex, the best stain remover of all time and a staple housecleaning item every housewife needs.


I clean up the spot and return to the couch.  Bryan asks if I have sauce on my lip or if it's a zit.  Of course it's a zit, because the pizza did not even have sauce on it.  Really? I'm about to call the Russian Mafia back to our house.  He laughs, crunches on the hard dough, and says with his mouth full, "I thought it was Sriracha!"

Ah.  Married life.  I finish the pint of ice cream, set it down on the ground along with my water, and B turns and asks...leave some for me? I tell him convincingly there are 3 bites left.  To which he replies, "Do you have pilates this week?" Oh geez.  He knows the minute he said it that it came out wrong.  At this point, I realize I never heard the timer for my hair ding, so I check it, and it is off.  Bryan says it went off 10 minutes ago.  Of course I did not hear it.

Slick.  I go to wash out my hair, and B scoots over on the couch and knocks over my water all over our hardwood floor.  He yells "Why do you leave things here!?"  I just laugh.  It's nights like these when patience is tested and you're at your wits end, that you learn to appreciate each other and chose to enjoy the little things in life.  And remember that living together is a learning process, and that life's pleasures are best enjoyed in the moment.

I don't want to now what the Russian's secrets are, but I am thinking of seeing Easter Promises.  I am in no way discriminating against Russians, I am just telling the story the way it happened.  And on another note, I educated myself a bit about the Mafia markings and statistics from the internet, the obvious truth searching engine.  But in the end, they came, they fixed, and they left.  And I am grateful.

I'm just sayin, B was very quick to do everything they said, just in case. ;)

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Stressed for Success

I came across an article that struck me (in a devastating, thought provoking, compassion for other human beings kind of way) while I was catching up on the current news in the hair salon.  There I am, with foils all up in my hair, and I read the following heading:

"Gorgeous, Successfull...and Wanting to Die." Great Cosmo.  Real Great.  That's uplifting and definitely NOT the typcial "10 ways to Boost your Ego & Libido."  So, intrigued, I read on.

The article talks about 4 recent cases where young successful motivated, on-the-path-to-success women ended their lives tragically, and no one had a clue why, save for a few Facebook posts or a lonely journal entry after it was already too late to do anything. The article is cursory and not exactly journalism at its finest, but I do agree with the point it tries to make:

"The lives of driven, goal-oriented young women are becoming more hectic and isolated, due in part to a singular focus on career and a delay in developing a serious romantic relationship that can lead to feeling content and settled down...By their mid-to-late twenties, college educated women are thinking hard about marriage and children because they're aware that their fertility will start to decline, yet guys remain focused on casual hookups and partying. "

And I think it is so true.  This generation, my generation, of fabulous, beautiful, smart, motivated, and generally overachieving women such as my friends, often find themselves feeling overextended, underachieving in one area or the other, whether it be at home, in their personal life, or at work.  The constant multi gravitational pull combined with the never-ending drive ingrained in us is leading some of the most successful women to the brink.  (See article on how stress affects women's health here.)

On top of the stress our generation put on themselves, and society confirms, the young, talented,  educated women who are making their own living have to deal with playing the waiting game for men to grow up and decide they want to have "family night" instead of beer-pong tournaments.  Good luck trying to get a man to give up flippy cup for frying eggs.  Or God forbid say that darn 4 letter word.

The opportunities afforded women now-a-days add pressure to GO GO GO, conquer, prove you are just as good as the male counterparts as if the late feminist-movement women are infiltrating our minds, haunting and taunting.  Our bodies are naturally wired to be more emotional than men, to think with compassion and feeling, to nest, to feel a sense of satisfaction when preparing a good meal and feeling generally WOMAN-LY. But if you aren't trained to to be a domestic queen, then thats just another pressure on your back that you have to strive to meet.

Sure, the satisfaction of a high powered position seems provocative and alluring at face value, and the lucrative salaries matching qualified women afford them the opportunity to provide for themselves well into their 30's without relying on a man as a breadwinner.

But when man meets a woman such as described above, it is not uncommon for that man to soon feel disposable.  If a man does not feel "needed" or cannot adequatly provide for a woman as she is accustom to providing for herself, disapproval sets in and men become less chivalrous and women become more dissatisfied.  And the circle continues.

So it puts us women in between a rock and a hard spot.  Our generation has also grown up in broken homes, seeing the reality of exposed and publicized divorce and adultery which in turn leaves women guarded and cautious, putting up walls so as to circumvent the anticipated, inevitable heart ache of giving oneself completely to another and risking losing it all.  So I think a lot of women choose education, work, because they know no one can take their degree away from them.  They know that their work is is a fairly adequate reflection of who they are.  And if that means they are sacrificing love, then so what? It's not like fairy tales exist anyways right, Cinderella...puh -leeez.  I believe this is the fallout from an ever-evolving society focused on multi-leveled success which leaves women feeling below par when they cannot meet and please everyones expectations.  It has become expected not only to perform well in the boardroom but also perform at home, so as to not lead your man to stray.

Deep down, though, does't every career driven woman, no matter how hardened her heart has become, regardless of her views on feminism, truly desire to have a man come running after her in an airport, or to come along side her and sweep her off her feet onto his white horse and take her home to his castle? Disney planted those fairy tales in our minds, and though they my not be a precise or accurate reflection of reality, thats what dreams and hopes are made of right? And at the end of the day if we take off our stilettos, let our hair down and give into love, I believe we will truly feel right with ourselves.  And perhaps even more important than that is knowing our self-worth comes not from the title under our business card, or the number of zeros attached to our salary, but knowing in our hearts that who we are and what we offer the people who mean the most to us is what counts.  I hope every woman can come to a place in their soul where they know their true identity and meaning and desire to LIVE.  Live to experience the ups, the downs, and realize that the failures and losses in life make us stronger.  Life is way too short to spend it feeling inadequate.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed herein are nothing but just that, opinions, based on personal experience.  People who experience depression or serious illness should seek help from a qualified medical professional.  

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