On Over-sharing, Both Good and Bad

I suspect that my attempt today to write a primer on the irony of over-sharing on-line will only end in me not getting zapped by a bolt of Charlton-Heston-inspired lighting thrown down by the G-d of the Old Testament due to the fact that said Yahweh is old. He’s old, He’s cranky, He’s pissed off by celebrities with their misspelled “religious” tattoos [Kabbalah is not a real religion! My Jewish ancestors in Lithuania did not suffer through endless pogroms for Madge and her vadge to become Jewish…Jews have enough issues!], and the racist sh*t trending on Twitter (you know Twitter alone pisses Him off beyond belief. Between Twitter and Mitt Romney’s incompetence, He’s got to be seriously torn as to which is better proof of the de-evolution of our species…and then you bring in the fact that Katie Lee and a sentient being named 'Hoda' are on American TV and that Old Man is all, “I can’t. I just… I can’t.”)

So, boys and girls, let me get back to this piece about why people can't discuss being unemployed on-line but feel comfortable over-sharing about their kids’ inability to be potty trained, or what they ate for the past four years, when they used to have body issues but now, now they’re totally fine and Zen goddammit and not at all racked by self-loathing because who wouldn’t choose to eat wheat bulgur or flax seeds or…shut up. Seriously. When people like this send me friend requests on Facebook, they bring my inner anorexic to the surface, and she wants to say, “Those Gluten-free faux-chicken tacos make your ass look big.” Especially when said people have nauseating quotes painted on the walls of their homes about worshipping their Earth Mother. (Yeah? Why do I suspect your horsesh*t just made our Earth Mother seriously start chain-smoking a carton of Newports, pop open a cold one, and eat a bag of pork rinds, muttering “God..dammit.”)

Anyhoo. My point being: so people can overshare everything on Facebook and social media in general, from eating their placenta (oy!) to unfortunate photos of themselves without makeup (NO!), to what they ate to what stupid things their kids said…but then these same people, when in my office, when I suggest that the main reason their job search is probably not working out, is because spending 4 hours a day on-line flirting, shopping etc., with a whopping 12 minutes spent scrolling through jobs on Monster.com, does not a realistic job search make, and maybe, just maybe they might want to alert their friends and family that they are unemployed, before they’re forced to switch over to the barter system…these same people look at me as if I had two heads. “Tell people?? Tell people…I’m unemployed? Are you crazy?” Right. Am I crazy? Because I’m the one posting unfortunate photos of me weighing myself every 3 minutes and eating sweet potato fries and bulgur burgers because I’m totally, like totally, Carlota, like so at peace with myself, la la la! You’re right. I’m the crazy one here.  (Grrrrr…)

I guess my point is: perhaps we all need to hold hands and sing Kumbaya together, since our priorities seem to be a tad f**ked up, n’est pas? Why can people talk casually about getting laid or giving birth or getting drunk or whatever…but admitting to being unemployed is a shame?  Really? What does this say about our relationships with one another? We constantly have to pretend everything’s awesome or people will run from us screaming?  We can never be honest? Listen, I have zero time anymore to pretend things are fantastic if they’re not. I need to fix sh*t so I can move forward, since I already wasted years living a life that on paper was fantastic but in reality was me being screamed at by certain TV “personalities” at 4am…par-tay!

Example: Many people who read my pieces about going to law school, and how it was a mistake 99 ways from last Wednesday,  were at first surprised I’m so honest…but then, usually—unless they’re a**holes—they say things like, “But I really appreciated that piece. It spoke to me.  Made me feel less alone.”  

If you’re unemployed, or you’re frustrated in your career, but your public social media persona is all about how cool and sexy you are…don’t blame all 500+ of your on-line friends. Don’t blame your “friends” if at 3am, you feel alone and unloved.  Most people will only see you as you present yourself. If you want help, if you truly want to connect, stop posting about what you ate (or, for Gd’s sake, eat some Key Lime Pie with a side of cocaine, so I don’t want to vomit all over your flax seeds) or what cool club you went to (also, if you’re having so much super duper fun in the club, how’d you have time to take all of those photos of you standing around? Just sayin’…), and be honest about who you are and what you need.  Then, email me @ carlotazee@gmail.com, and let’s get that career search on!

Good night, Irene!

I’m writing this in Queens—that sounds like the opening narration for some very bad, 1970s post-apocalyptic “message” film starring Charlton Heston- before Hurricane Irene makes landfall AKA before Queens is washed out…to other parts of Queens? Whatever. Neither the cats nor I am evacuating. We have cash, candles, batteries and kibble…we shall rebuild! On the other hand, if the MTA blinks and shuts down the subway system then I probably will give up, give in and hitchhike to…Oregon? Too much rain. Possibly Montana: no speed-limit and lots of aging hippies, which equals free love. So: Bloomy has his plan, I have mine.

But I recently watched a fantastic documentary, Medal Of Honor (http://www.pbs.org/medalofhonor/) which was  simultaneously inspiring and hilarious, as Medal of Honor recipients from World War Two, Korea, Vietnam,  Iraq and Afghanistan, discussed—quite casually—the almost unbelievable things they had done. Of course, none of them had done these acts hoping for a medal. They acted because they saw a need to act. And when I say “unbelievable” acts, I’m talking here about a single man shooting, and holding off, Japanese bombers, during the attack on Pearl Harbor, or an American soldier in Vietnam, whose medal was held up, because it didn’t seem possible that he could be alive following all the acts of heroism he had accomplished in a twenty-four hour period.

It’s a wonderful documentary and I can’t recommend it highly enough. But once thing I noticed is that almost all of the men, when asked how they did what they did say something like, “I have no idea…I just did!” There is the common theme of people in desperate circumstances just going out and doing what needed to be done to survive. And that, I think, is very important. I’m not going to seriously compare our present economic mess to World War Two, for example—how could I? Then, we had effective, competent, inspiring leadership…--but for people who are unemployed, or under-employed, who have been foreclosed upon, or have generally seen their way of life evaporate into something unfamiliar and deeply confusing…this is a war. This is a period of great upheaval and struggle. It’s exhausting. But if we sit around and brood about how difficult things are, and what the dismal future might hold…ugh, it’ll be much, much worse. So, don’t think: DO. Get through it. Get through it, to make something better tomorrow. Or, as a certain President once said, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”