5 Valuable Things Facebook Has Taught Me

After many years and countless wads of cash spent on therapy, workshops, seminars, conferences, discussion groups, round tables, symposiums, self-help books, other-person-help books (you know, “How To Make Your Man/Children/Boss/Neighbor blah blah blah”), crying, marathon talks on the phone with my friends, and good old-fashioned numbing out the pain with a tube of cookie dough, I’ve not been able to transform into the person I feel I ought to be by now. Namely, Supergirl.

And then one day I realized that all I needed to learn was right here at my fingertips. Facebook! This social media platform is a microcosm of the real world, and once I master the lessons of FB, I can bring my new tools with me to my job, my relationships, even my coffeeshop interactions. And the best part is, I don’t even have to get dressed to take this life course! Stay with me, cuz it’s brilliant.

Facebook teaches me:

1. To be visible. Oh sure, you may think that hiding behind a computer in the dark basement of my mom’s house doesn’t make me visible, but you’d be wrong. I post pictures of myself in varying degrees of humiliation, other people tag me in their photos (Drunk Selena at a party; Coked out Selena in the middle of an intersection; High Selena at the supermarket, etc.), and when I call in sick to work and then take a road trip to Ojai, FB is the first to out me on its Map app (“Selena was at Robert Patterson’s house in Ojai today!”). This is a valuable tool to bring with me out into the real world: don’t be afraid of being visible. No matter what. 
2. To ask for what I want. For example, I am having a birthday party for my new iPhone 5 on September 12 and I want everyone to attend and bring prezzies (I’ve registered at Apple.com, by the way). I’ve also created a FB Page (not to be confused with a plebian FB Profile) and every time I send out an update on my new baby’s features, I get to ask you to "Like" me. Yesterday I practiced asking for what I wanted at Starbucks: “Good morning, I’d like a grande half-caff extra hot no foam unsweetened with whip caramel-lite mocha cappuccino. Hit LIKE if you think this drink order rocks!” The stink-eye I received from the kid taking my order did not deter me in the least. Because I’d practiced this tool on Facebook first.
3. To not take anything personally or anyone seriously. This means when people leave derisive comments on my post about a celebration for an inanimate object that I purchased for the same amount of money with which I could buy a month’s worth of groceries, I get to laugh it off. Ha ha ha. And then when I reply to their comment with a three-page rant, I get to end with ‘LOL!’ so that they don’t take me seriously. Note: there are several spots still available in my passive-aggressive workshop next week.     
4. To ignore incessant chatter. To be successful in the real world, you must learn to tune out what you don’t want to hear, and focus on what you need to hear. Oddly, I don’t hear much of anything these days. I’ve gotten so good at this it’s like I’m living in deep space. Facebook is the perfect learning tool for this. If you have 500 “Friends” (notice the use of quotations to indicate a word used with irony or reservation), chances are 80% of what comes in on your news feed can be classified as “incessant chatter”; be especially aware of any post that begins MUST READ! or IMPORTANT! or BAD LUCK TO YOU FOREVER IF YOU DON’T SHARE! Skimming and speed reading are helpful skills.
5. What everyone is having for lunch. Wait, is that a tuna sandwich?? Stop the presses!! 

Ok, that last bullet point definitely merits a derisive comment from all you tuna sandwich lovers on my Facebook page, but that’s ok, because I asked for it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to iron my cape, lace up my red boots, and go tackle the world, one post at a time!

My Mind is a 2 Year-Old

I finally figured out why my mind won’t settle down, prefers to play, asks “but why?” incessantly, bursts into tears at the slightest provocation, thinks the world revolves around it, and isn’t 100% potty trained yet.

It’s because my mind is a 2 year-old!

How on earth can I be expected to settle down and finish writing the last 50 pages of my novel when there’s a rambunctious 2 year-old running around?! How can I possibly exercise on a daily basis when this kid in my head is screaming that she wants to go out and play? And how do I pretend to be a mature adult having a difficult conversation with someone when my internal toddler is putting her hands over her ears and singing, “La la la la la la!”?

I’ve spent years—eons—attempting to tame this wild animal and make her work for me, not against me. I’ve gotten angry at her, spoiled her, attempted to ignore her, indulged her by letting her eat ice cream for dinner, and even tried leaving her on the steps of a church with a note taped to her “please love her as I cannot”.

And then one day it struck me. After the pastor ripped the note off my head and had me escorted off the church grounds, I realized the age-old axiom: we’re all insane, and the ones in the mental institutions just got caught. Sorry, wrong axiom. The one I realized in this moment was: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

You wouldn’t try to treat a 2 year-old as though it were a 30, 40, or 50 year-old, would you? You can’t reason with a toddler, it’s never going to be able to get up and go to work on its own, its default setting is play!play!play!, and it won’t be able to tell itself to take a nap when cranky.

So now that I am aware of this basic principle, I can work with my inner tot. For example, when I sit down to complete an article with a short deadline and my mind is jumping up and down, screaming for me to take her to a movie, I can give her a time-out for an hour while I work. I use small words and allegories from Sesame Street so that she’s sure to understand. And I remind her that just because I’m disciplining her, doesn’t mean that I don’t still love her.

Of course, this works best when alone. It’s unnerving for others to observe what appears to be a grown woman chastising a kid that no one else can see….