Talking to Myself

Let's all agree on something, everyone has rules that they follow by on Facebook, and they are all different. With such chaos and random rules, how are we supposed to follow any set? Well ladies and gents there are a few rules that we all have to follow whether we agree to them or not. They are the creators rules, the "no nude pic" rule (unless it's a women in a barely there bikini with no visible pubes of course!) The "don't threaten to kill or harm someone rule" (as long as it's not directed towards someone specific. Rape jokes are fine! So are pages dedicated to promoting DV!)

But with that being said, I cringe when I see people post things like "what FB is really for". I guessed I missed the memo where Mark Zucherburg (pretty sure I just butchered his name) named YOU the rule maker. Facebook is so different for everyone.

I enjoy people posting happy pictures of themselves, I enjoy people posting pictures of missing dogs, I enjoy people posting political posts even if I don't agree with them! I enjoy you all, but I reserve the right to disagree, and I am happy when someone responds if they don't agree and we can discuss it. I still care about that person and I admire them even more for their strong opinion. I also know how it feels to be disliked because "I don't know when to keep my mouth shut". Sometimes sexist posts just aren't funny to me, I feel the need to speak against it when I see it.

Let us pretend for a second, and visualize facebook as more of a tangible thing. Again, the not a lot of rules, rules, apply here. There you sit, facing a wall, surrounded by all your facebook friends in a room, at random times you can yell out your thoughts, share something you just saw "Cute Kitty video, a must watch!" cheer on your favorite team "Go Cowboys, Go!" You could keep the information to yourself, but once you open your mouth, the information has been made public, you shared it with everyone, there's no reason to become upset or offended if they don't agree with you because as I've said, everyone is different.

I would say 99% of the information shared by my friends and I is acceptable to Facebook standards. Other than that, sharing things that others might not agree with isn't breaking any "FB rules". Of course there is always the option to not follow that person, or as I did earlier today, delete the person completely.

I have been trying to write a blog for a week now and jumping from topic to topic. But recently, an open letter was posted on Facebook that really got my attention, involving a horrible thing that happened to a child.

The letter came from Dylan Farrow. She finally spoke to the public 21 years later about the abuse she received at the hands of her adopted father, Woody Allen. Yes, I know. The great and powerful Woody Allen. But we shouldn’t mad about this right? I mean it was 21 years ago. He’s a brilliant film maker. He gets a free pass because he’s “an amazing artist” or something.

No.

Nobody gets a free pass or open armed forgiveness when they have violated someone else’s body. He doesn’t get that right, he lost it when he took a childs away. When anybody, man or women takes away anyone, be it child or adults, sense of safety or security, when they take their sexual perversions out on another, when they touch someone against their will, they do not have right to expect people to forgive or forget it. Deny that you did it all you want Woody, but I believe her. Why? I am going to tell you why.

In her open letter I saw a pain, a memory and a deep rooted disgust for someone that hurt her all those years ago. If you have ever been hurt by someone you trusted as a child, be it sexual abuse, physical, or mental, you don’t forget it, you just don’t, and it shows. At a younger age it can be hard, even if you know what they did was wrong, to not feel guilty for hating them. Yes, the victim feels guilty. They may hate the person, they may not. But they know it was wrong and they feel bad for feeling that way.

And then they get mad. They get angry. How DARE that person hurt me! How DARE they use their hands, their words in such a painful and hateful way. And look at them. Look at them getting that raise at work, look at them having a happy life. Look how they just walked away from what they did. Look at all the work I have to do just to feel normal, to ease any guilt, to feel comfortable with the most innocent touch. And throw on the fact that she went through all of this in the public. This wasn’t an incident that moving away from the state it happened in could help.

Some ask why she has waited until now to speak up. If I were to venture a guess…She has to see her abuser all the time. She can’t even go grocery shopping, a normal task without seeing his face pop up. Think about how that feels, you woke up next to your mate, you did your hair nice, clothing looks good, you swing by the store after work to pick up some salad and Bam! The face of the man who molested you as a child is on a magazine cover. He’s all smiles, maybe holding the hand of your former step-sister (who also happens to be your step-mother). The pain comes back, the memory, the shame, the anger. You forget your salad and run home, to cry, to throw something, to forget. Now I’m not saying this is exactly how it happened, but I’m trying to paint the picture.

What is it about routines that draws us in? Is it the unexpected, lack of thinking/planning, or the comfort it brings us?

Quick fact, I love pugs. Their cute little squished faces make me smile. I just want to pick the little chubsters up and squeeze them!

That being said, I have a neighbor with a pug. Said neighbor either doesn't work, or she works from home, I do not see her leave very often, and when she does it is for short bursts of time. Every day, about the same time, I see her walk her little pug. She takes him in the same, seemingly random spot through our side of the yard and back. It looks the same when there wasn't snow, and I've confirmed it's the same because of the little prints in the now fallen snow.

It makes me wonder, what sort of routine does she keep to? Does she have a hanging list of things to be done daily, with a written time next to them? Or does she just naturally arise at this time, by instinct, to let out her dog? And why, of all the things I could be doing, do I find myself walking to our bedroom to look out the window every day to see if she has in fact, taken said dog out on his midday walk?

Maybe it's because routine fascinates me. I have always had trouble with routines, and too much order. But I find myself yearning for it, looking with admiration at my boyfriends sense of routine. Since we moved into our new house, I have tried to set a routine for myself. Wake, coffee, breakfast, house improvement, job searching. I want a routine down because, working three days a week is quite honestly driving me mad. Routine will help me accomplish goals, being on a schedule is good. Right? Except I'm not sure for me that it is. My mind doesn't work that way, it never has. My creativity doesn't burst from my brain in timed manners, but rather random spurts with no order or schedule.

I remember in elementary school, we had to write down our morning "routine". I found that I didn't have a set routine (despite my poor mothers best efforts) so I just wrote down what I normally accomplished before getting the school bus, "teeth brushed, cloths on, school bag grabbed". This is still how I work.