So, despite a metro area population of somewhere around 1.5 million, Milwaukee is really a very little town.
VERY LITTLE.
Case in point.
Facebook.
Yesterday, there was a flurry of activity on Facebook. Since the number of my friends on said interface would not populate a football team, much less a third world country, this is a rare occurrence. But yesterday, there was a lot of activity. My BlackBerry was blowing up, as they say. Probably without that "g" on the end.
Blowin' up?
Still not right.
Moving on.
There was a lot of activity. Posting, commenting, planning, all that stuff that people who hate the phone (like me) really love this social networking shit for.
And then, I get this comment notification.
Now, if you've ever tried to use the full functionality of Facebook on a mobile device, you know that it doesn't always translate. Sometimes links don't take you to the right place, and you're left wondering what exactly someone else is commenting on, because it just doesn't quite make sense. This was one of those moments. I scratched my head for awhile before getting to a full-fledged computing device.
But that's not the point.
The point is that a friend of a friend saw a comment I had made on the wall of our mutual friend, and followed up with something to the effect of "We work together, I think, even though we only ever speak on the phone." (I'm paraphrasing like mad. The exact comment would reveal personal information I'm just not ready to share with you people yet.)
But that's still not the point! Everyone knows that coworkers will eventually find you on Facebook, and then you have to decide what to do- accept the requests and set their group permissions so that they can't actually see any part of your profile, or just ignore them.
The point is, that this chick is dating this kid I went to middle school with who subsequently became really good friends with one of my coworkers at the job before this one.
Yeah.
It's like six degrees of Kevin Bacon up in here.
And since Mark Metcalf lives in Milwaukee and I've met him, all of these people can actually be connected to Kevin Bacon in six degrees or less.
Not the point. But funny nonetheless.
It just floors me that there is so much interconnectedness in this city I live in. Every once in awhile when something ridiculously over-the-top like this happens, I have to just sit back and marvel at the human condition. We are such social beings, despite our violent tendencies and our power struggles and our egos. We're social, under it all.
Also, it makes me go ick when I think about the fact the bulk of the people I have slept with in my life are Milwaukeeans. I could probably do a six-degrees thing and get myself to having had intimate contact with about half the 1.5 million inhabitants of this town.
Ew. If the Manfriend and I don't work out, I think I may have to only date people who live 100 miles or more away.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Paralysis.
My younger cousin (I was incredibly tempted to refer to her as my "little" cousin, but she towers over me by at least six inches these days) recently graduated from design school. She has a summer internship in London that lasts three weeks; she leaves on Thursday.
I spoke to her on Sunday, during my drive back up from Indianapolis. She offered to play sleuth for me, to try and ferret out the baby daddy's status (live vs. dead) and possibly even his whereabouts.
I find myself paralyzed with indecision.
On the one hand, there's "God yes, do whatever you can, find out what the hell happened, absolve me of this burden."
On the other hand, there's "This is not your responsibility and you should be focusing on your own shit while you're there."
On the one hand, there's "Who the fuck was he and why did he do this to me?"
On the other hand, there's "Do I really want to let someone else in on the depth of my shame and the completeness of my goddamn stupidity?"
On the one hand, there's "A child deserves to know everything she can about both of her parents, even absent ones."
On the other hand, there's "What is knowing anything going to do for her? He obviously doesn't care to be involved with her at all."
I find myself, in other words, completely paralyzed with the worst kind of indecision. This is not indecision by apathy or ambivalence; no, this is indecision by seeing too far in conflicting directions. I both want to know, and don't want to know. I both want to share this with someone, and don't want anyone else to really know any of the details. I both want to share with my daughter something about her father and don't want his narcissism touching her in any way whatsoever.
In the end, this is one of those situations where indecision is itself a decision. If I don't tell her anything, she can't play sleuth, and nothing will be discovered. I realize this.
I suspect the overriding factor in my decision to remain indecisive is a combination of ego and altruism. I don't want her to know how stupid I was, and I also don't want her to have anything less than a glowing experience on this opportunity. Her trip should be for her, not for me.
So another year will go by, and maybe on down the road I'll see my way to how to find out. Right now, I don't even know where to tell someone else to start looking.
I spoke to her on Sunday, during my drive back up from Indianapolis. She offered to play sleuth for me, to try and ferret out the baby daddy's status (live vs. dead) and possibly even his whereabouts.
I find myself paralyzed with indecision.
On the one hand, there's "God yes, do whatever you can, find out what the hell happened, absolve me of this burden."
On the other hand, there's "This is not your responsibility and you should be focusing on your own shit while you're there."
On the one hand, there's "Who the fuck was he and why did he do this to me?"
On the other hand, there's "Do I really want to let someone else in on the depth of my shame and the completeness of my goddamn stupidity?"
On the one hand, there's "A child deserves to know everything she can about both of her parents, even absent ones."
On the other hand, there's "What is knowing anything going to do for her? He obviously doesn't care to be involved with her at all."
I find myself, in other words, completely paralyzed with the worst kind of indecision. This is not indecision by apathy or ambivalence; no, this is indecision by seeing too far in conflicting directions. I both want to know, and don't want to know. I both want to share this with someone, and don't want anyone else to really know any of the details. I both want to share with my daughter something about her father and don't want his narcissism touching her in any way whatsoever.
In the end, this is one of those situations where indecision is itself a decision. If I don't tell her anything, she can't play sleuth, and nothing will be discovered. I realize this.
I suspect the overriding factor in my decision to remain indecisive is a combination of ego and altruism. I don't want her to know how stupid I was, and I also don't want her to have anything less than a glowing experience on this opportunity. Her trip should be for her, not for me.
So another year will go by, and maybe on down the road I'll see my way to how to find out. Right now, I don't even know where to tell someone else to start looking.
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