Category Archives: slice of life blog

Facebook, Tidy Cat, and Misery

A few days ago, I learned the sad truth. Facebook harms your sense of well-being and the well-being of others.
According to a research-based study at the University of Pennsylvania, Facebook (in addition to Snapchat and Instagram) increases depression and loneliness. Psychologist Melissa G. Hunt who published her research findings in the Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology suggests users reduce their time spent on social media. “When you look at other people’s lives, particularly on Instagram, it’s easy to conclude that everyone else’s life is cooler or better than yours,” she says.
She has a point. No one posts photos of the unpleasant, boring, miserable events of their lives. No one announces with happy grin and toilet brush, “I’m cleaning the bathroom now.” I haven’t yet come across a post stating, “Here’s a picture of me slouched on the couch, in my pajamas, doing nothing.”
Instead, we see vacation photos of our friend’s river cruise on the Rhine. The Facebook post shows our friend lounging on the ship’s deck, feet up, drink in hand, all smiles while gazing at majestic castles on the riverbank. You, on the other hand, remain at home getting ready to clean the cat’s litter box. According to the research study, social comparison takes over and you begin to feel depressed. Your friend enjoys a European adventure while you need to drive to the store to buy more Tidy Cat.
It’s not that social comparison is a new concept. It has been around for a long time. As a child, I often heard the phrase “keeping up with the Joneses” (not the Kardashians). I had no idea who the Joneses were, but it seemed everyone wanted to have whatever they had.
Back then, I only wanted to keep up with Winifred. She had a color TV. My family, and everyone else in our neighborhood, had a black and white TV. Winifred, the red-haired girl who lived down the street, bragged she watched Bonanza in color. She viewed the Ponderosa all aglow in green fir trees and glistening blue sky. Oh! Oh! If only I, too, could see the Ponderosa in color—my life would be complete. read more

The Mood of No

A woman in the booth behind me blurted, “WHA-AAAAT?”

Moments earlier, Jerry and I had congratulated ourselves on choosing a booth where we could enjoy quiet in one of our favorite lunch spots. Jerry bit into his grilled ham and cheese sandwich and I took a delicate swig of my coffee.

I couldn’t see the woman, but I could hear her over the café’s chattering, kitchen-clanking din. Her agitated outburst continued, “I DON’T WANT TO BE NEGATIVE HERE, BUT WHY DID SHE SEND EVERYONE AN EMAIL ABOUT ME? SHE HASN’T SAID ANYTHING TO ME.” read more

The Saddest Part of 2018 (you probably don’t realize)

Some people say “the good ol’ days weren’t so good.” I’m here to tell you, they are wrong.

In the good ol’ days, like 1987, we didn’t have cell phones. At least they weren’t a common household item. Cellular phones in 1987 cost about as much as a Ferrari and were the size and weight of a toaster. They didn’t fit very well inside our purse. They didn’t make toast.

Most everyone in 1987 had touch-tone dial phones that sat on desks or hung on the walls. We almost always answered the phone every time it blasted its loud jangle. We didn’t have caller i.d. and we never knew who might be calling. The thing is, in 1987 you could still hope for a fun phone call. read more

The Dirt In My Life

Writing a blog isn’t as easy as I first thought. You have to come up with topics and sometimes I can’t think of a thing to write on. Add to this, some of the topics I could write about are too sad, or too personal. Some people have asked me to not write about them in my blog, wanting to remain as private as possible. Some think I might embarrass them and have asked me to give them an alias. Since I write on my life’s musings, this limits my range of interesting topics. It limits people I can embarrass too. read more

Everyone Tasted Spit

…“You said my name wrong! You said ‘Reh-GINA’ and my name is ‘RUH-gina,’”

 …“Can I move? He’s kicking me!”

…“This plastic chair is hard.”

I’m at the Young Writers workshop at our local library. The manager asked me to talk to the kids on “Descriptive Language” for the hour. It starts off with lots of restless commotion.

I glance at the large clock on the wall. I have an hour to figure out how to calm my young writers, first grade to eighth. How do I approach this wide range of ages? I would teach descriptive language in a much different manner to the older children than I would to the younger. I might be in for a long hour. read more