Look familiar? These are the ravages of a 21st century disorder!
Hi, I’m Lin. I am a Baby Boomer.
I am not afraid of Technology.
In fact, I was the first on my block (back in the 80s) to have a MAC desktop courtesy of my employer.
And despite my title as a teacher of English, I ran the computer lab and became the unofficial fixer of all problems MAC and otherwise.
Through the years, I graduated from MAC and became a PC user (Higher education folks looked down on us MAC users).
I even became a proud member of Blackboard club and successfully taught freshman English to someone. ( Never sure who the students were since they could easily sit in their basement, blowing smoke and pretending to be on my roster).
Recently, I even enrolled in an online course and literally taught myself.
Glad I didn’t have to pay for that travesty, but it is one of the perks of living to be a ‘senior’. I digress.
Beyond the computer, I have owned a number of smart phones- iphone, Galaxy, Tablets, wireless chargers, blue tooth keyboard,and my most recent toy- headphones that look like slave Necklaces.
My point Reader, is that I am not a novice when it comes to technology.
And as further evidence, you’re reading a Blog which I singlehandedly setup on this site with only 2 hits to the ‘help’ button and one email to the Happiness Engineer.
My technology concerns however, are not my own but rather global ones.
Because, you see, I fear that we have gotten ourselves in somewhat of a pickle with this whole computer driven society.
For example, Everyday we hear about some Fortune 500 company being hacked resulting in thousands maybe millions who are potential id theft victims.
The government’s response to their own hacking travesty was to provide all hackees with free identity theft services for a few years.
Unfortunately, I was among the latter group.
After spending several hours online providing the id theft fixit people with More of my personal info, it occurred to me what happens if they get hacked…what then?
And in fact, after I was awarded with a user name and a strong verified password by said id theft fixit company, I attempted to log onto my account only to find that my user name and/or password were NOTcorrect.
Duh, Denied access to my own protection site..hmm..is that like the pot calling the kettle black?
After several torturous hours of waiting on the phone for a customer service rep from the id fixit company, I was told someone would have to call me back as they were overwhelmed with other government employees seeking the cure.
Two whole days later, Jenny did call me back. But alas, I was cruising down the Road and couldn’t talk to her.
She hurriedly stated that it would be some time before I would get another crack at a rep so I pulled over to a parking lot and engaged in what turned out to be a fruitless foray into…
And despite her assurances, that everything was now fixed, when I returned home and attempted to log onto my id protection site, I was STILL denied access.
And now I sit anxiety ridden waiting for the id theft fixit company emails that pop up in my inbox almost monthly.
Often, it’s just to inform me that another sex offender has moved in my neighborhood. Or company x, y, or z is perusing my Experian report trying to decide if I am worthy of yet another unencrypted credit card.
Despite all of this, Reader, like many of you, I unfortunately drank the kool aid years ago, and continue to participate in using plastic for money, paying Peter and Paul online, shopping at the 24 hour Amazonia, and downloading movies/music when the spirit moves me.
I just pray the Hackers will be gentle.
And P.S. if Russia or China or Nigeria is following my blog
…I already gave.•
December 27, 2015
Well Readers, it has been a minute since I last sat in front of this blinking cursor.
Let’s just say like my grandma Rachel used to say, God required me to ‘sit down’ for a minute.
The genesis for this came in the form of a rear end accident that occured almost 2 years ago while I was parked at the local post office.
Yes, I believe in snail mail…even have all my hate mail/bills directed to a PO box that I check periodically.
I had just left said establishment and was sitting in my car perusing the latest edicts from AARP…10 Best Places to Retire (if you have money, of course) when a loud boom followed by a forceful slamming of my venerable ’99 Cherokee assaulted my body.
The perpetrator of this action was a delivery van backing into my unmoving vehicle (I did say I was parked didn’t I) at a rather high speed for said parking lot.
I saw the lady parked next to me running from her car with a look of fear on her face
And because of the times we live in, I assumed it was some type of attack being rained down on said PO…maybe a worker gone postal…outside the building.
Or perhaps, it was some type of random assault in which I was the starring victim.
But imagination aside, it turned out to be an errant driver-in-a-hurry whose actions turned me into an ‘accident victim.’
This accident rendered me useless for months. I spent long hours lying on heating pads, consuming mildly addicting pain meds and muscle relaxants, begging friends to drive me everywhere including endless visits to physical agony (oops) therapy sessions.
And it culminated in a deja vue experience with former paralegal moi standing in a courtroom pleading my case to an understanding, sympathetic, Boomer age judge.
The legal wrangling alone is worth a Blog, but I was warned by my legal mouthpiece to refrain from discussing my case while it was pending.
And it is now just a mere 1 1/2 years later that this ‘case’ has been resolved and I am able to find my Voice again.
Did she just say that she hasn’t written a Blog in almos’ 18 months cause she had a court case?
Gurl, please, we know you had Writer’s Block.
Or she was working in that flower/ herb/or whatever she growing Jardin.
Well, reader, I wish I could say I was “richer and wiser” because of the experience.
What I can say is that my 60 something year old neck/ back will never be the same again and I think I have PTSD about the Post Office.
So much, in fact,that I just signed up online to pay my yearly PO box fee.
Now, if I could figure out how to get them to mail me the contents of my always bulging box.
Hmm, that might be a way to save the venerable snail mail business.
Well, it’s approaching daylight, And No, my insomnia has not disappeared.
I hope that you will allow me to visit your inbox sometimes when my creative juices are flowing.
As always, I look forward to your comments.
What is a writer without a reader?
But guys, be kind, like Badu said…I’m an artist and sensitive about my sh*t!.
Is what He calls it
When He takes you to bed
After you have taken himTo Court.
Like an elaborate chess game
The 20 year relationship
two moves forward
One move back.
In the background Gladys moans
Neither one of us Wants to be the First to say Goodbye.
And yes Shakespeare
Parting is such Sweet Sorrow
But breakupWe must.
If I am to survive
If I am to breathe
If I am ever to find
My Romantic Again
And Be clothed
In my Right MindAgain.
Cast carelessly aside
in My marital bed
on my satin pillow.
Secret phone calls.
Thousands of texts.
All belie My Innocence
And the lies
All starting to sound like the truth.
You know I will always love you hon. You ain’t got nothing to worry about with ME.We gon’ always be TOGETHER.
Singing Garth love songs
To me at karaoke
Where you thinkingAbout Her
and Not Me?
What makes a man
Turn and walk away
After you’ve given him
Sacrificed your very soul
Just to be with him.
Gurl, what you see in That man?He ain’t even yo type.Definitely ain’t on yo Level.
Mama said there would be days like this
days like this…
Put yourself in Jesus Hands
Insomnia is now my bedmate.
Sleepless nights that never end.
And no this ain’t no fairytale.
No Stranger on a white Horse
galloping to save me.
Save yourself, gurl
Away from Him
Away from Hurt
Away from Disbelief
Away from Disappointment
Away from Shame
Hmph hmph hmph
26 years ago
Over half My Life
IWish I Could
BEFORE WE MET
And SKIP My REGRET…
Its Summertime and those of you who have followed my writing for the past 6 years know that I tend to avoid serious topics during the Hot fun in the Summer time months.
I mean, there are 9 months that I can devote to our
bumbling political arena
our apathetic approach to
Humankind and Mother Earth
our failing Education system
our Horrible prison system,
elder and child abuse
the plight of the homeless
Veterans we never thanked for their Service
The uncurable Cancer (unless you are a celebrity or ten percenter)
Health care nightmares.
Do I need to go on?
Damn, she’s making ME depressed.
Enough, Dear Reader.
Today’s topic, Students (in my best Teacher Voice) is something we all have(or have had)
Our Crowning Glory
Booming Business for 3rd world countries
As a Black woman, I have struggled with my hair for as long as I and my Mother can remember.
Blessed with that long thick good stuff ( maternal granny was part Native American…hey heard They are getting reparations And Casinos…better send that swab off)
My early years were spent dreading the daily letsfixyourhairforschoolritual.
It seemed like hours of torture. Transforming my thick, straight but a little kinky (Dad’s folk were pure Africans) tresses into 2 pigtails (braids).
And every two weeks, like clockwork, I was subjected to Hair washing Day. Usually preceded by a dose of castor oil and liquid Vitamin D. Mom kept us cold free.
Gurl, get that shampoo, a towel, the big tooth comb and that jar of grease, and get yourself in the kitchen.
Words cannot convey what followed.
She meticuously lathered, scrubbed, rubbed, squeezed, massaged (sometimes gently scratched my scalp) my disobedient locks into submission.
Once dripping wet and still comb-able, She would grab, tug, pull, part,and grease my unruly hair.
Water ran in large rivulets down my forehead, back of neck…hmm is that what water boarding is like.
Ouch, you hurting me.. was my frequent response.
Gurl, you know how thick your hair is. And you ain’t tenderheaded. So be quiet and go get the Straightening Comb.
Every girl of color reading this, probably felt a quickening in her heart with the mention of the SC.
And I am not talking about the modern, cute electric temperature controlled Hot comb..
This SC was a black handled , iron toothed, white smoke generating, grease residue, smelly, angryredifleft on the stove burner to long, Monster.
Hold that ear. Sit up. Sit still. Stop crying. Ain’t nobody hurting you. You want to have curls on Sunday don’t you.
Bend your head.Gotta get to that kitchen now. (aka the nappy nap)
Silent tears coursed down my dark brown cheeks.
It is Saturday afternoon. I have missed all the Good Cartoons, a fierce neighborhood jump rope competition, flying through the air time on my beloved Schwinn, and endured my brother’s unmerciful taunts.
And aged several years.
But, finally it is over and the cracked hand mirror reveals, long, jet black, gleaming straight tendrils..just like Shirley Temple…
Toni Morrison and The Bluest Eye knew exactly what she was talking about.
At age 20, I flew the coop and landed in Sunny Los Angeles. My first stop, a Barber.
Cut it all off. Down to the baby hair, Thank you.
Comments welcome! Thanks for Reading/Sharing!
Heather Headley knew what she was talking about…
Me time, not some Him , not some You, but some ME Time...
We all need it
A break from the Routine
Work, Cook, Clean, Kids, School, Bills, Repeat.
A space occupied by
ME, Myself and I .
A bottle of wine,
pint of Chunky Monkey
Family size Lays,
And the remote.
Or self absorbed
Just taking a break
To get my Sh** together
Babe, are you listening?
She cranks the stereo up
“All things being equal
I always put you first
You know that I’ve been down for you
Through better and through worse”
Hon, its the Playoffs…
I’m trying to watch the Game
“All things being equal
Boy, I’ve been more than cool
So it seems only natural
To expect the same of you.”
…And the fellows are coming over
Did you make the chili and hot wings like I asked you?
“Now, I’m not trying to start nothing
I like things drama free
But there won’t be nothing to stop
If you keep sweatin’ me”
Why you always wait ’till boys night to start nagging Me?
Me time, Babe
I Need some
Deep pore Facial
Hot Stone Massage
Check into a Marriott
Luther and Kem
Red light in the Basement
Silk pajamas one size too big
Phone on Do not Disturb
New batteries in my toy
“I need some Me Time
Comments Welcome. Thanks for Taking the Journey!
Technology has become an ally
In the war against
Ask any Woman (or man)
Who has suffered
At the hands of
An unfaithful spouse
Boyfriend, Significant Other.
No denying that
But how to know for sure
The one who vowed to
Love honor and
Is not keeping his/her Word
Check his/her Device
It does not lie
And keeps a History
That when read
Best selling novel.
The inventor of these little
Probably had never
Seen Cheaters or Maury Povich.
Never heard Nancy Wilson’s Guess
Who I Saw Today…
Guess who I saw today my dear
Guess who I saw today
Guess who I saw today
I Saw Youuuuuuu
(the Anthem for all who had been
These mediums tried to bring attention
To this breaker-up-of-happy homes.
But Hello have you met
the iphone, Galaxy, Android.
Its first telltale hint is
The call that can’t be taken
The call made from the secrecy of the bathroom
(duh, Sound travels you idiot)
The call that must be taken
The call that elicits a sudden
change of voice
And Behold the Android produces
Who knew those telltale Selfies
Sexy texts…I’m in Your bed..waiting for you.
Calendar reminders…meet Her at the Hilton..
Could become ammunition for
The Divorce Attorney?
Cheaters never win
It’s against the laws
Frowned on by the Monogamy
And the Creator doesn’t think
Much about it either.
So ladies/gentlemen don’t fret
And have more sleepless nights
Thoughts of homicide
Tuck that Device under your arm
The next time He or She is
(No doubt dreaming about that THOT/loser)
Pour yourself a glass of favorite Wine
And prepare to be
*(that ho over there)