Suffering from information overload …..

I have been a bit blog-reluctant as of late, which is unusual for me.  I can normally whip up a blog post easy peasy and then I feel good once I have pushed the ‘PUBLISH” button.  I blog as a form of relaxation and sometimes an emotional purge.

Lately I have just not felt like talking.

I have been looking at facebook/twitter and blogs and I am a overwhelmed by the amount of sharing.  The sheer volume of it.

I am feeling pressurised into posting on twitter.  You know to be with the in kids.

I appear to be way behind in instagrams photos, my  facebook status updates are just not remaining current, and my pinterest boards are in total disarray.

I am so busy trying to read everyone else’s shite I just do not have time to post mine.  Really does it matter that I went to the Spur for lunch – granted I did not put it on my facebooks status update, and god forbid I did not take a photo and add it to instagram ….. did it still happen – does it count?

I feel exhausted by the amount of information I am subjected to each day – it did not bother me before.  If someone listens to a song on YouTube I get to see the link – if someone has muesli for breakfast, I know about it.

I think I am suffering from information overload, or over share.  I like to know about what you are eating, wearing, who you love, how much you miss your dead relative, but I feel I am being bombarded. Reading Facebook is like opening a door a crack, and suddenly finding you have a starring role in Jumanji, and can’t get back.

I really enjoy logging on to facebook and seeing what people are up to.  But lately it is causing a twitch in my left eye.

I am not a big de-friender.  I am actually quite tolerant of people and their often idiotic exploits, contrary to popular belief.

I forgive people their stupid “LIKE this if you love your daughter/father/son/dentist/gynaecologist.” I try and get excited about yet another photo of dear Johnnie.  If someone posts a link, I politely go over and take a look see, just in case it is actually interesting.  I am a polite Facebooker.

Sadly I am usually disappointed. I have realised the only safe/interesting links to look at are posted by Julie Mostert.  Bless her, she links seldom, and when she does, they are good.  The rest, not so much.

There should be a link police. You link too much, or to too much crap, and they come over and shit on your lawn.  Something simple like that, to try to encourage people to be responsible relinkers/posters.

I had a facebook friend Erica* who was constantly updating her status on how far she ran, how little kilojoules she took in, and how fantastic it was to be alive. I took that for about a year, then this week I though agh fuck it. Do I really need to know how many repetitions you do at gym, and what your resting heart rate is? Actually no.  I defriended her arse.  Mainly because her exercise routine was making me feel bad as I gorged on my Cadbury’s Bubble Slab (the big one with the totally irrelevant resealable back….. seriously what is the point of that?)

I relooked at my facebook friends and thought to myself, as much as I might vaguely Lana*, do I really want to see every fucking movement her child makes? Actually no, so I defriended her – if I put all the photos she had posted together of her son, it would run as a movie.  I feel that I watched him develop each frickn day, because each day there is a minimum of 10 photos of her little guy.

Great for family living in Thailand, not so great for me.  I actually could not bear to look at another photograph of her tike.

I did hesitate over those defriend buttons for quite sometime — I felt a bit mean, but for fuck sake, surely enough is enough?  I only defriended two people, but I felt bad about it.

I have a twitter account, I think I have tweeted twice.

I pop in to twitter about once a fortnight, primarily to see if Ricky Gervais and Jimmy Carr have said anything interesting.

Twitter, much like Facebook and this onslaught of media, is like standing at a busy intersection with a 8 lane highway of speeding cars.  Everyone is hooting, screaming things out the window and driving 195 kilometers an hour.  I am sitting there in my 1982 Fiat indicating to get in to a lane, and I can’t get or take a gap.

I have realised that no one has noticed my indicator is on.  No one is giving me a gap to get in to the fast moving and very LOUD lanes.  I have been waiting so long and now I have started to wonder “do I really want to get on this super highway of information?”

Does it matter whether I post small snatches of my bowel movements in 144 characters?

At the moment I am in the “who gives a shit” lane – its slow and has an easy listening radio channel.

I have  had sponsors/PR companies and others asking me to punt their products on my blog.  Right now I really just don’t feel like it. I might say, if I felt special and it was me and a really nice sponsor, then maybe.

I realise the same sponsor/PR company has spammed 10 {mommy} bloggers and after I see the same product being punted on other blogs, I am like “you know I am feeling a bit like a media whore, and actually I really don’t want to punt your product…” They don’t call to discuss they email you a pile of information, and that is the extent to their communicating with you.

I am sure this sense of dissolution will pass, and I will get all excited about hearing how fantastic your weekend was, or how precious your child is, or how fantastic it is to be alive …. but maybe not right now.

I need a quiet corner without any internet noise.

*names have been changed

Facebook Cover Images #2

Feel free to use or steal the Facebook Cover Image/Facebook Cover Photo.


Today I did one of those classic “cyber near-miss-puck-ups”.

I had something/someone running through my head this morning.  So what is the easiest way to resolve a question that is bothering you, run the question on Google.  Right?

I was a bit distracted and I <TABBED> the programmes that were open on my desktop, not really paying too much attention.

I added the search question into the space provided.  My finger automatically hovered over the <ENTER> key and I reread the question for spelling and grammar accuracy.

Fortunately the nerves that control my eyes, the nerves that control my right index finger clicking on the “enter key” and the nerve that stands in the way of several class A  muck ups aligned for just a moment.

Only to realise that I was entering my question into my Facebook STATUS UPDATE!

I really felt my sphincter loosen as the adrenaline shot through my body.

I always wondered how stupid people have to be to do this – well now I know! {I did not push enter, as I realised the error, hence the near miss}

It ain’t the color a the wrapping that count, it’s what we is inside ….

I saw this Facebook status update on Sharon’s facebook earlier today: “A friend Lisette travelled to a family wedding in Tulbagh this weekend with her 2 yr old adopted black daughter. When she got there she was asked to leave the guest house because of Elizabeth… it is shameful that this mentality ever existed and shameful that we grew up with it all around us – it is even more shameful that it continues… Establishments name: T***** Bed and Breakfast, 12 **** ***** Street.”

I will let you re-read that one again …. as no doubt you will want to take another look, to be sure exactly what was being said there.

Initially I gasped – then I grimaced – then I thought to myself, what if the issue was not that the daughter was black – but that she was two years old?

Some bed and breakfasts like their white linen to remain white, and do not like the sweet pitter patter of little feet on wooden floors.  Many have a “no children” policy – rather than a “no black children” policy …. but I shall not tout myself as being an accommodation expert, so really cannot say with any real clarity what happened, why it happened, and how it happened.

My brain does tend to go “what is really happening here….?”

This status post was reposted a few times – and I was interested to read the comments.  Though I was pretty sure that the comments would use the word “horrified” or “disgusted” pretty liberally.  The person who made the booking, Lisette, made it clear she had booked and indicated she had a child – however the establishment’s website does indicate “no children.”

She feels that when she made the booking – she made it clear she had a child, and the establishment responded in a manner that left no hint of uncertainty that there was a child with this booking.

Either way, the establishment is being totally slammed in social media, and at this point do appear to be at fault.  The horses seem to be well and truly hitched to the wagon of “you turned down my booking because I arrived with a black child……”

My brain, however, struggles to grasp how this could occur.  Exactly how do you turn to someone and go “oh, sorry, you can’t stay, it appears your child is black …. sorry about that…..” 

But this is the story that is being copy and pasted on social media. If I owned said guest house I may have my knickers in a lather today, assuming they have realised there is a bit of a slander campaign running rampant.

On a related story I have a person who I work with who was looking for an apartment to rent.  Let’s call him “Paul” for the purposes of this exercise.

Paul applies and chat to various landlords and he finally finds what sounds like the perfect apartment.  It is all going swimmingly and he is just about to sign on the dotted line, but goes to take a quick look at the apartment.

Paul as pretty much agreed that he will take it, and has his spare underpants in the car, because he is that ready to move right in.

Arrives, landlords looks at him and then starts mumbling about how the apartment is taken.  Bearing in mind Paul has spoken to the landlord and they have agreed he can take it, once he has a quick look.

Paul says that unfortunately this occurs quite often – Paul would be classed as black if classifications were important.

I am hearing this story and my mouth is hanging open – and I am getting more upset than him about it.

Paul, being the level-headed guy he is, tells me that it happens, and he can either get angry, but then he will be angry all the time, or he can accept that people are just people, and some people make these flash judgements, and then he can smile, nod politely and move on with his day.

I am not sure I could.  I get cross for Paul about the fact that he was judged based on his skin colour.

But then, I would be naive and a bit mentally slow to think that we are all not filled with our own prejudices, based on the colour of someone’s skin, hair (made any blonde jokes lately?) or their eyes (ever said ‘blue eyed wonder’ ?)

I am not sure what the answer is.

I do not think it is about “not seeing colour” because part of who we are is our “colour” – but it is not the sum of any one of us.  But my colour is part of who I am – and your colour is PART of who you are.  But it does become a problem if you are judged ENTIRELY because of the colour of your skin.

The reality we are faced with – is that we are all prejudiced in one way or another.

I think we like to think we are “the rainbow nation” and sing along and smile – but the reality is that we all have “stereotypes that we have grown up with…..” or have learnt along the way.

Anyone remember the Douglas Green series of advertisements ….. no doubt you can still say the phrase in the Asian accent …..

I love this paragraph from Kathryn Stockett’s –  The Help ….

“We go on in her room, where we like to set. I get up in the big chair and she get up on me and smile, bounce a little. “Tell me bout the brown wrapping. And the present.” She so excited, she squirming. She has to jump off my lap, squirm a little to get it out. Then she crawl back up. That’s her favorite story cause when I tell it, she get two presents. I take the brown wrapping from my Piggly Wiggly grocery bag and wrap up a little something, like piece a candy, inside. Then I use the white paper from my Cole’s Drug Store bag and wrap another one just like it. She take it real serious, the unwrapping, letting me tell the story bout how it ain’t the color a the wrapping that count, it’s what we is inside.”