Obnoxious words in the Ineternet Lexicon

My friend Dave (actually he's my husband's friend but he's so funny I claim his as mine too) recently posted this:

Question: What is the most obnoxious term to enter our lexicon in recent years?
Answer: The Selfie!
Seriously, can you think of one that is more obnoxious?

 

His friends listed a few (the last one is his wife being funny).

-Thundersnow

 

-What about totes; short for totally...since that is apparently too hard to say/type out

 

- i'm going to have to vote for "presh". shudder.

 

-cray-cray

 

- the phrase...."I know, right"...ugh

 

- yolo, and I've even seen it used as a verb. Shudder

 

- Hey, I know - there's this adorbs lil park on the way home from work. Why don't we stop & we could go totes cray cray getting some presh selfies, cuz ya know, yolo, right? oh, nevermind, supposed to thundersnow later. (I now want to shoot myself typing all that)\

Well. I can think of the obnoxious ones. I have lots to say about this. And MORE! There are more abbreviations in "webspeak" than there are in the military, and those aren't even as obnoxious as these actual words invented by who knows what mass of so-called intelligent being? I'm probably going to blame the teenage crowd, but really that should probably be blaming the writers of Nickelodeon and Disney shows, or some phantom entity even more evil and dark than those mentioned. Where do these things come from? Another time. Another time.

When I was in high school, internet really didn't have its own language. People started saying "lol" and "prolly", and of course those were annoying. But maybe someone actually started doing the lol thing because they really did laugh out loud. I do that on occasion and a REALLY funny email or comment.
However, some yahoo had to go and take it to another level. ROTFL. REally? I have literally, actually, rolled on the floor laughing, I think twice in my life. Once was when I was tweleve, so... let's just think about that. 
Would it be so hard to just say, "That's funny!" or "You make me laugh"? Or just enjoy your own laughter?

Then there's "Yolo" which, the online urban dictionary defines as:
Abbreviation for: you only live once The dumbass's excuse for something stupid that they did Also one of the most annoying abbreviations ever....
I concur.  

Really, though, those stupid abbreviations are just the tip of the ice berg. Let's go on. Has anyone noticed these phrases popping up WAY TOO OFTEN on facebook?
"So true"
"Worth passing on"
"I know, right!"
Think about it before you say it. Seriously. Was that picture with the victorian era woman complaining about her refrigerator running, or that picture of the American flag and some pithy statmeent about being a true patriot, or that (shudder) picture of a cat saying something grumpy  REALLY worth passing on? I'm just wondering, and I'm also wondering how very true those things you say "so true" actually are? Or you just think it's funny and you want to send it on but you feel like you have to say something? So true.

Then, there are these horrible abbreviations where we take off the last sylable of the word. What good does that do? Like this?
Presh - Eeww.
Cray Cray - What have you got against the letter z!
Delish - even tastier than the ious? I think not.
Totes - Totally is way too hard to spell. Way.
I've got one word for all of this. Obnox. (And my clever brain made that one up all on my own!)

And then there are the old school ones that have been just as annoying all along (now longer). Peeps. Did anyone ever actually call their peers or friends "People"? Besides Michelle on Full House, or maybe Jesus. Or some foreign dictator/monarch. And now, it's "friends" on facebook and followers on twitter. Maybe I should start calling them my "freeps" and see how that flies.

Well. Such is the world we live in. And it is entertaining when you think about it. We're all collectively losing our vocabulary, and our intelligence with every minute we spend on the webs. Reminds me of this:

Memorial Day

My sister sent me this cartoon:

Which inspired this poem (about my grandpa, of course). Not one of my best. It's hard to put those things in words which are really only shadows of thoughts.

One Man, One Soldier

He walks with courage

Though now with a cane, but once it was a gun

Now his steps are slow, but once he marched into war

Never seeing the man he would become

Maybe not understanding all he fought for.

He shuffles slowly down the hall

But once he ran full force onto the beaches of France

Screaming out over the mortars and cannon blasts.

Now that voice that carried commands

has become harder to hear. His eyes, once bright and soulful

now wear wisdom, wrinkled and woeful.

Now his steps are slower and he’s always being passed

by all the generations behind him

moving too fast

All those people who will never understand

the honor he deserves,

the indelible mark his actions made on the pages of time

in the stories they have never heard.

His tall frame now withers, hunching from age

And though that tired body has worked itself sore

The marks made that day have remained

The memories of war

The purple heart on a shelf in his closet

The friends who he lost there on the shore

The family he came home to

                He remembers what he fought for

He used to fight hard and long, but now he’s tired

And he already found his hill to die on

The man who stormed the beaches

Who limps with shrapnel in his side

Now walks with careful steps, leaning on his grandchildren

                who have always known his sacrifice

                Who listen to his tales of war and find

That ordinary men become heroes

 and courage shows itself in many ways

--sometimes in war stories and flashes of light

Sometimes in farming and strife

Sometimes in the faithful way you live your life.

This man, the soldier could teach them all that.

When they look into his eyes and listen

To one man’s journey in history, to one man’s scars

Teaching about bravery

Making his children who they are.

Fires and Fights and the Northern Lights

We're planning our vacation in July, and it's got me remembering all of the amazing times I've been with my cousins in life, and how there's some magical hold about those neglected homelands in the prairies where my dad and his family grew up. I don't know if it's the grandparents, or just the landscape, or some perfect combination of memories and hope and love. ANd there's absolutely no way to put it into words. I've been wishing for a long time that I could write a song, but there's just no good way to describe it all.

 Summer Sweetness

We climbed the wind-swept hills

Pushing aside the wild wheat and sunflowers

And we’d come home covered in cockleburs and dirt

Full of sweat and smiles, with tales of glory from the fields

And those abandoned sheds we’d explore

We ran across the prairie like wild animals

Chasing away the grasshoppers with our steps

Between the flour mill, the grain bins and tractors

Snooping in the barn, throwing rocks at old windows

Singing songs about our glory days

Of rusty trucks and barbed wire fences

Of gravel and guns and games that we played

Amidst those farming remnants, we discovered

Pieces of our parents’ childhood

The fence posts broken down, the root cellar and clothesline, the millstones and

old machines on the hill, monuments of business called farming

once crucial tools

Now weary from their years of wear

The saddle, the wagon wheels that first brought them west

The plow, the dried-up pump, the buildings falling down

What secrets untold will die with them, blown away in the prairie wind?

What stories did we miss out on

While we played, too busy to listen, running too fast to slow down

And yet here the stories stay, waiting for another day

Written down in postcards and letters, in photographs and stories

Told through the eyes of these children of the dust, who repeat and wait and remember

They listen to the humming tractors

Or catch the scent of alfalfa on a dry day riding with the windows down

And maybe a wishful feeling washes over them

Like it does over me

Remembering those sweet days of hayloft forts and gopher hunts

The barbeques and fireworks and quiet nights by the fire,

Sleeping under the stars, watching the meteor showers

The walks down the long driveway

The mystical sunsets ablaze in the sky

And laughing together late into the night

The fires and fights, and the northern lights

The vision of it all—badlands, buttes, barbed wire, and all that they represent

This rugged, wilderness wrestling against progress, ancient meeting an old sort of new

The dust, the rust, the trucks,

Those tilted fence posts holding the heartland together

Summers and winters,

the wind and the wheat

Two Gardening Books

We met Joey O at the chiropractor's office, and he seemed like a really great guy. He was cheerful and outgoing and full of life, and apparently (I later learned) is an acrobatic golfer/motivational speaker. Explained the golf club he had with him. He talked with my kids and then he gave them a book of his called "The Dream Seed". Joey's book is about a little boy named Joey whose mother told him he could do anything he wanted to if he believed in himself. He planted a little "dream seed" that grew and grew into his life ambitions, and eventually led him to live out the life he'd always wanted. The book us full of statements like "Use your intelligence intelligently" and "be honest with yourself and with others and your Dream SEed will grow" and "Listen to your inner voice. Then do the actions it tells you." These inspirational nuggets are pretty much the point of the book, as I can see it. The basic "if you believe in yourself you'll do great things." It's endorsed by former presidents Bush and Ford, and Bob Hope.
That same day, we also received a parting gift from JJ's Bible study teacher called "My Heart, God's Garden". The book from the Bible study teacher was printed off on her computer with little clipart pictures of kids in the garden. It tells about how knowing God makes our heart able to grow good things that he wants for us. It teaches about prayer and growing closer to God. Every page has two or three Bible verses on it. It's low-budget and well-intended. And what I know about Miss Jeanie is that she gives my JJ a hug every week when we see her and tells her that she loves her and God loves her.
I keep looking at these two books, both written with children in mind, both with the inspiration of helping children acheive their best in life. Both hoping to set them off toward greatness from their early age. And I find there's some prfound statement made when I compare them. The Dream Seed is all about YOU and what YOU can do. You grow your own seed by your positive thoughts and good actions.
God's Garden is about what God does in you. It shows how knowing God can guide you through life. And it reminds you about His word's impact on those tiny seeds in your heart.
One of these books is not going to stay in my home. While it's nice, and made with the best intentions, and there is truth in it, I worry about the message of trusting yourself to achieve your greatest desires. I worry that my kids would some how believe that they are responsible for the outcome of their dreams, and that if they work hard enough, they'll achieve them. It sounds so good and so right, but it rings hallow when those dreams don't happen. Then it puts the burden on you. YOU weren't sparkly enough, ambitious enough, hopeful enough. YOU didn't do it "right".
Not that they can't have dreams, or do everything they can to accomplish their desires, or work hard, or believe in what they're doing. Those aren't bad things. It's just that they aren't the only thing.
I rather would have them "delight in the Lord" to receive "the desires of their heart" (PSalm 37:4). To know that He is the one who writes our dreams, and when we submit to Him and follow Him, then whatever happens, whether it's the way we want or not, we know His plans are not thwarted and He has our best intentions at heart. (Romans 8:28, Job 42:40) While Joey O is saying "I always believe in Me! Even during a challenge, I always believe in my Dream Seed! I know the truth about me! I am successful and happy every day". Miss Jeanie's book says, "These seeds of faith, He will grow. His promises, He will keep. Though I am little, all this I know. For the Bible tells me so."
I'm not saying that dreams of being an acrobatic golfer, or a singer or dancer or whatever are bad. I'm not saying people shouldn't do all they can to get to where they want to be in life. But I do think it's dangerous to put too much trust in those plans, and in yourself. When disappointment happens, you don't have much to lean back on except "try, try again". I'm not sure how well I could articulate the difference between humanistic goal-reaching and faith-driven pursuits. All I know is, "the heart is deceitful, above all things (Jeremiah 17:9)", but the "on paths of righteousness there is life" (Proverbs 12:28).

The Lesson of Mary Poppins

I've always loved Disney's Mary Poppins. It was one of the first movies I actually watched when I was a kid. I remember my dad brought it home from the movie rental store one night along with Robin Hood. We had friends over, so we were having a night of fun. I was disappointed that it was a real people movie, but quickly changed my mind. Jane and Micheal had my attention right away. And then the mystical, magical wondrous Mary Poppins appears and changes everyone's life. I used to think it was because of her crazy antics, of who she was, but actually, she just changed them by teaching them to notice.
Last year I introduced my kids to the nanny extraordinaire movie. Watched it with my brother-in-law who hadn't seen it before, either. It was really entertaining. There are many parts that are hilarious to watch as an adult. Like how Mary Poppins makes a really funny face when she drinks her rum punch "medicine".
But what I realized watching this movie again, and listening to the sound track bonuses, is that this movie is about noticing the insginificant.
It's about a family with parents who are so asborbed in their own social standing and careers that they don't notice their children. They're too busy to see a little boy and girl who just want some time and attention. That's why the culminating moment, when the kids want to give money to feed the birds, is so poignant . The beggar woman sits on the cathedral steps every day,noticing the birds who want to be fed. She is overlooked by the general population. But Mary Poppins notices them. And she notices the kids and their needs. And all together, she teaches a set of self-centered parents that their children--that the world around them--is noteworthy, that there are things you should be noticing. The insignificant things that don't seem to matter, really DO matter.Like the people who clean their chimneys, and the lonely shut-in man who loves to laugh, and the people who draw pictures on the street. And birds.
I want to teach my kids to notice, too. So much of our lives and the culture around us teaches us to worry about ourselves and our needs and how to please themselves. We forget to notice the little things, like cold kids walking home in the rain, like flowers blooming and butterflies, and the poor people who need our help. The least of these. We'll always take time to feed the birds and fly kites, because it's those little things that build into a larger thing, the second greatest commandment about loving our neighbors and putting others first.

Help

I tried to push my stroller and get my two younger kids out the door that was trying to shut against me. You saw it and held the door for me. Thank you.
I just wanted to make it through the store and back to the car while the baby screamed loudly. You smiled sympathetically instead of judgmentally. Thank you.
I felt overwhelmed at the grocery store on the rainy day, trying to figure out how to get three kids into the car with the least amount of wetness involved. You offered to carry my bags. Thank you.
I hadn't had a break from home in two weeks because the baby needs me all the time and I felt guilty whenever I left. I'd already had to say no to three other social events. You told me it was OK to bring the baby along on this one. And you held her for me while she cried. Thank you.
You saved your advice for your own daughter instead of telling me that I was doing something wrong. Thanks.
You told me that my kids were behaving well, even though they'd just lost my coupon book and had been arguing with each other for days on end.
You noticed me with that overwhelmed look in my eyes, and you didn't just walk away, but you stayed and had an intelligent adult conversation with me.
You did what you could to help, reminding me that some day, I'll be in your shoes and wish for those days back.
Your smile reminded me that these babies are treasures.
You encouraged me when I felt tired and drained. You pulled my hand while I was sinking in despair.
Thank you, kind strangers.

Book Review

Today is "Finish the Book Day" in our house. WE finished 1A math book, read aloud Stewart Little, and I'm nearly done with The Hobbit. I also finished a library book from one of my favorite authors, Richard Peck. You may know him from the Newberry Award-winning book "A Day No Pigs Would Die". THe book I read today was called "The Teacher's Funeral", and like usual, Richard Peck delivered a great yarn.

He does a good job using local dialects and capturing the rural turn-of-the-century Indiana life in a charming way. I really enjoyed the story, told from the perspective of a 15-year-old farm kid set on escaping another year of school. It's a good read, as are all of Richard Peck's books that I've read. The other titles of his I've read this year are:
On the Wings of Heroes (my personal favorite)
A Year Down Yonder
A Long Way from Chicago

If you want some light-hearted, easy reading to pass your time, check it out.

Doubt

We sat across from each other with a backgammon game between us (who even knows how to play that!), hot tea in our hand, on old plush couches with coffee shop music filling the empty spots in our conversation. We were in The Living Room, a college student friendly cafe that had Christian bands preforming on weekends, and lots of tasty food and coffee to enjoy. But tonight I just felt a lump in my throat, and i didn't want to eat or drink.
I hadn't ever really told anyone about the dark plaguing doubt that had overtaken my heart that semester. It had been creeping in for a while, in different things, as I sat through Bible classes and scoured verses and listened to sermons and sang songs in chapel. I believed in God. I knew my faith was true, and yet, the more I read the Bible, the more questions arose, and the more I wondered if maybe there was a chance I'd made a mistake.
It was honest questioning, but I was afraid to ask the questions. I thought that the whole Christian community I'd surrounded myself with would shun me. I was engaged then and I was afraid my fiance would want to break up. I wanted everyone to believe that I was intelligent and spiritual and I was afraid to give words to those things in my heart that were pounding against in the darkness of night.
Doubt.
What I didn't realize then, as an insecure 19-year-old, was that doubt is part of faith. Without doubt, there can't be faith. If you never had to question your beliefs, they wouldn't really be worth believing in. But no one tells you that before you leave for college. No one warns you that you can get so absorbed in Christian college atmospheres that you can lose sight of your own faith.
Thank the Lord for my friend Nathan. He was a senior that year, so when I asked him if we could talk, he took me out to the Living Room and I spilled what had been hiding in my heart. He knew me well. We'd had a lot of talks that year, and he and I thought the same about so many things. When I told him what I was thinking, about the doubt and the questions, he told me it was OK. And he told me that he didn't know other people felt the same way he did. I was so relieved then. Not only because I gave voice to the fears and doubts and called them what they were, but then I knew I had a like minded person who suffered in the same way I did.
I'm not really sure what happened after that. I started writing my questions down like Nathan adised, and looking everywhere I could for answers. I knew a lot of philosphy back then, and I had a lot more time to read. And God always drew me back to the foundation I had in Him. Somewhere in the rest of that semester, I found Him again. He'd been hidden from me. Not the theology and written words and teachings and all of the things that men say about Him. But Him. Jesus, my friend, who knows me and loves me and cares for me. And the questions become afterthoughts when I remember His promises, the way He's led me.
They're still there. I think they always will be. It's the way my mind works, asking questions and wondering about origins and things. But no matter where I go in my wanderings, I just can't completely walk away. Because "he remains faithful when we are faithless", and I know, like CS Lewis said, He is Himself the answer.


Harder to Believe Than Not To - Steve Taylor

Nothing is colder than the winds of change/ when a chill numbs the dreamer til a shadow remains/ among the ruins lies your tortured soul/ was it lost there or did you just surrender control? You shiver with doubts that were left unattended. so you tossed away the cloak that you should have mended / you know by now why the chosen are few/ it's harder to believe than not to. Harder to believe than not to.
Some stay paralyzed until they succumb/ others do what they feel/ but their senses are numb/ and some get trampled by the pious throng/ still they limp along
And are you steady enough/ to move to the front/ is it nods of approval or the truth that you want/ and if they call it a crutch then you walk with pride/ your accusers have always been afraid to go outside
They shiver with doubts that were left unattended/ so they toss away the cloak that they should have mended/ you know by now why the chosen are few/ it's harder to believe than not to
Harder to believe than not to.

Dear Society (A frustrated rant form a mom who's having a bad day)

I'm kind of tired of you making it so difficult to have babies. While some of you make it into this big deal to try and market all of the things we "need" that actually just clutter up the house and make things more complicated, others of you try to tell us that having babies isn't "enough", that we should be working too or keeping house better or cooking amazing meals, etc. And then there are those of you who think it is SUCH a big deal that you can't really see anything as important as having babies and you're just as bad.
Here's the thing. I don't like being a mom all that much. Sure, there are parts I love, but do you know how many other things I'd rather do on most days? So, really, you're making my life more miserable with all of your expectations of me.
Also, while you have these opinions, there's also this belief that a mom should be able to leave her baby behind sometimes. I'm sorry. If I have a baby who needs me, I can't just leave her. Good for the people who can. I can't, and you shouldn't expect me to. Yes, I realize that I need to make sacrifices and sometimes I just have to decide not to do some things because bringing a baby won't benefit anyone else there. But you forget. Sometimes having a baby present does benefit people. And most of the time, who does it hurt? The baby is my responsibility. I'm not expecting the world to drop everything to accommodate her. I'm doing the best I can to accommodate you, really, and I'd appreciate some flexibility on your end of it all.
Moms have a hard job and it only makes it harder when you shove your expectations onto them. It's not like they make their babies fussy. It's not like they want them to cry when you're trying to enjoy conversation with people. Moms do the best they know how to do, but moms don't like being excluded from society just because they have a baby with them. Maybe you forgot what it was like when you had a baby. Or maybe you never had one. Or, in either case, maybe this mom's baby just isn't like yours. You don't know her situation. You don't know if she's on the brink of a breakdown and just needed to get out of the house for a little bit and see people or get some milk and there's no other option but to take the crying baby along. You don't know if she hasn't slept in three weeks and her brain isn't working that well. You don't know if she cried all afternoon because someone made a remark about her baby or gave unsolicited opinions. You just don't know. But, whatever the mommy's situation is, she would appreciate support and sympathy a lot more than judgmental looks and unreachable standards and alienation.
Thank you for listening.
 Signed, an exhausted mommy

PS Thanks to the people who "get" this. I know you are out there and I hope you're the majority.

Scarlet

Hers was a tragic life, a tragic story full of sad songs and broken desires, and people letting her down. She was abused, used and thrown away more often than any person ever should be. Yet she dreamed, and she dreamed full and bright. She took chances and she ran free, following whims that led her down dark streets and into studios in LA. We used to talk online, chat about philosophy and life and the people we'd known. And I loved her art.
We were so different, opposite in so many things. And yet she understood some part of me that I could never really explain to anyone else, and maybe I did for her too. Maybe she got tired of the things that made us different, or maybe she just moved on. I wish that she were still here, reading this. There was this beauty in her heart that appealed to me, amidst her brokenness and weariness and questionable lifestyle, this poetry that pulled out pieces of purity and bliss, and also a little bit of the ugly things no one likes to talk about. And it made her who she was, that honesty.
She knew darkness like few people do, yet she staggered toward the light so often, reaching her hands out in front of her, squinting straight ahead at the little glimmers that came and went, wishing from her depths that she could grasp it, yet always being evaded. She understood so many things, knew what was best, but still found comfort in a darkness, in the twilight between day and night.
Art poured out from within her, from those broken places that remembered abuse and misuse, from the whole places that saw heaven up ahead, from the heart where fires burn in love and hatred. She could be in movies, she could stand on the stage unafraid, all the while wondering if she was good enough for any of it. And if any of it was good enough for her.
So now she sings and plays piano, and I hope she never goes back to the life before that, where she wandered and questioned and fought. I hope she still fights, though, in searching for the truth and for shimmering things lost in the murk of lies, fights for herself against those who can't appreciate what she does and who she is. I hope she wanders back into my life, because I miss her and think of her often. Most of all, I hope we walk together in heaven and find the pure art, the way it was meant to be all along.