I Swallowed A Lightning Bug

Citizens:

If there is one thing I'm really good at it's crying. I'm a Level 4 expert - and in a perpetual state of dehydration.

At Level 1 the tears flow freely at the usual events: giving birth, attending weddings, funerals, graduations, and really good or bad movies; and when your 18-year-old beagle dies.

Level 2 involves crying at hellos and goodbyes, Olympic medal ceremonies; when other people cry even when you're not sure why, when you're delirious and have a fever of 102, you're really pissed off, and of course, crying while simultaneously laughing in a fetal position (we've all done it).

The more complex Level 3 consists of crying before and after you back your car into a fixed object, wishing you could help someone who is really screwed up when you know you can't, upon hearing your mom's voice when you've had a bad day (yes, even when you're 40), and when your husband buys a mid-life crisis motorcycle. Note: My plan for revenge is to save my tears in a Tupperware container until enough to make a cocktail - and then serve them to Steve McQueen in a martini glass - straight up.

Level 4 goes beyond the norm and consists of crying after 9/11 at the joy of seeing a rat - yes, a filthy rodent - scurrying in the bushes outside your office (an affirmation that life goes on), and crying in 2nd grade while explaining to your teacher that the reason was because you're going to die from accidentally swallowing a lighting bug (firefly) you had trapped in a coke bottle the night before when the real reason was your parents were getting a divorce.

I've cried in every place imaginable - airports, sidewalks, Chinese restaurants, the mall (have you seen the shoe department at Nordstrom?), flower gardens, parking lots, The Louvre, on a swing set, and yes, even at work. Anyone who says there's no crying in Insurance Claims - they lie. Bathroom stalls obviously have more than one purpose and toilet paper is good for trapping the tears, snot and spit that form like a spiderweb over your face - the unfortunate physical side effects of an honest to goodness cry. The one highlight is your eyes appear greener when the swelling goes away.

Before you go off thinking I'm unstable, please know the crying at work thing happens only 1.5 times per year - totally in line with the national average for women crying in the workplace. It's sad but I'm fairly normal.

As an expert, I also have the ability to make grown men cry. I wish I could say it's my voluptuous figure that kills them; it just happens during regular conversation. Just this week I made two men cry.

The first was an encounter with an ex-coworker.

CitizenB: Gosh, I remember when you adopted the stray dog who took up residence in our parking lot - the unofficial office mascot. How is he?

Co-worker: Tearing up. Gulp. He died.

CitizenB: Oh, no. I'm sorry.

Co-worker: Yes, he had an undetected tumor and it erupted causing massive internal bleeding. He couldn't be saved. Now I'm left with my other two dogs and I really don't like them that much.

CitizenB: Yikes. It was nice seeing you.

The second encounter was with a Philadelphia attorney in mediation. I'll spare you the details but yes, I managed to evoke emotion and a tear in the eye of a hardened and burned out insurance defense attorney.

And now to the latest episode of CitizenB weeping:

Last night was a perfect storm for tears. What can I say, it was a typical Friday night.

First, it was the book I've been reading forever A Fraction of the Whole. Here's the excerpt (page 531) that made me cry:

"Dad, I forgive you."
"What for?"
"For everything."
"What everything? What did I ever do to you?"
Who is this irritating man? "It doesn't matter."
"OK."
"Dad, I love you."
"I love you too."
There. We said it. Good.

Or not so good - strangely unsatisfying. We'd just said "I love you." Father and son, at the deathbed of the former, saying we love each other. Why didn't that feel good? This is why: because I knew something that nobody knew or would ever know-what a strange and wonderful man he was. And that's what I really wanted to say.

Tears are spurting and I'm backhanding them out and away so I can see to read and continue to torture myself. After more dying, son throws father's body overboard from the people-smuggling vessel (you have to read the book) and into the sea where he bobs up and down a little like "a carrot thrown whole into a boiling stew." Sniff. Sniff.

Second, it was the book (again). I'm exhausted. And nauseous. But it's finally over. I'm finished. The book is closed but the story is still shooting from the pages - much like hairs sprouting from my husband's nose. Okay, so I can see up his nose as he sleeps next to me. It's a distraction. The book is actually vibrating from so many freaking words (247,962 - my estimate- using the same method as counting jelly beans in a jar to win a door prize) so I threw it across the bed and dried my tears.

Next I decided to watch "Friday Night Lights" on the DVR. I should have known better since I cried during last week's episode when former QB1/current paraplegic Jason Street's girlfriend buckled under the pressure of young motherhood, bundled their baby, packed up the U-Haul and moved to New Jersey to live with her parents leaving Street in his wheelchair behind in the street.

This week Street and current tailback Tim Riggins (the Jordan Catalano of Dillon Football) take a trip to New York City where Street manages to gain a job at a sports agency and an opportunity to be with his son.

Here's the scene when they make it to New Jersey:

Riggins stands by the cab while Street wheels up the walk and stops at the steps to the front door. This is as far as he can go. Fortunately, the girlfriend and baby come out and he doesn't have to yell "Stella!" Street holds his son and through tears gives the most heartbreaking plea ever on a network television drama. There's no way the girlfriend can say no and she doesn't. Cue to Riggins with tears in his eyes - his best friend finally has a shot at real happiness. He'll miss him, heck, the whole state of Texas will miss him.

Okay, I'm wiping returning tears into my ears and squelching weird primal noises coming from within all in an effort not to wake up the sleeping nose. Even Level 4 experts try to hide their tears.

Between the book, TV show, and real life, the father and son drama forced open the flood gates. What a rush.


CitizenB

Text Messaging - The Old Fashioned Way

Dear Citizens:

I'm very lucky to have 15 terrific nieces and nephews. They're growing up quickly or in some cases already adults. We do our best to stay in touch. This sometimes requires technology beyond my abilities.

A couple of days ago I received a text message from my beautiful, big-hearted, and soulful 18-year-old niece Melissa. She lives outside Atlanta and texted an "I Love You" surrounded by a heart. Aw.

Short and sweet with a fun graphic - totally within current texting rules and etiquette. (Of course, I don't know how to replicate it for demonstration purposes.) However, she has a wacky e-mail address with a bunch of underscores and "yo's" and I can never make it work. We've talked about this in the past.

I responded or attempted to respond (see below) and after our exchange, I realized I'm a terrible text messenger or whatever the term is. I don't like code words and trying to hit tiny characters. The real issue is I choose not to abbreviate and cannot under any circumstance be brief. It's not in my nature (and why my Indian Ya Ya name is "Babbling Brook.") Go ahead. You try to text something meaningful in less than 160 characters! Plus the only "graphics" I know are periods and question marks.

Anyway, I've decided to revise my text response to Melissa to meet current text language standards (for persons under 40).

Old Text: "You, too sweetheart. I still get delivery failure when I e-mail you. When you have a chance e-mail me at citizenb and I'll save your address. Sorry I'm a corky aunt."

(Then I noticed my iPhone SMS took it upon itself to change my intended word "dorky" to "corky." )

"Make that corky." (It did it again!)

"D O R K Y" (I finally outsmarted it.)

Melissa: "Lol i love you and yep i will email you when I get home =)"

Revised Text: "U2 sweet<3. I stil gt mail-Dubya wen I emsg u. Wen UV a chnc emsg me @citizenb n Il save yr ADD. Sry I'm a corkus aunt."

"Mk tht corkus"

"D O R K U S" (definition below)

Now you know why I will never be employed as a Native American code talker. This career is obviously not my colored parachute and will be marked off my list along with underwater pipe-fitter and millionaire match-maker.

Anyway, I guess text messaging is here to stay at least until a new mobile technology takes over. At some point we will never need to speak to or touch another living being again. We can marry our handheld devices and be artificially inseminated with turkey basters. There will be no need for deodorant or breath mints.

Until then we must be aware of the reported dangers of text messaging: texting while driving, textwalking, broken thumb syndrome, drunk texting (TUI), text addiction and withdrawal, and underage sexting. What about losing IQ points, forgetting (or never learning) formal English, not to mention turning 12-year-olds into promiscuous bullies and brats?

Blame Japan where it all started - or Canada.

As an iPhone user and loving CitizenAunt of many, yes, I'll continue to text - the old fashioned & d o r k u s way. And now with interoffice instant messaging a daily requirement, I'll have to work on that skill.

Question? Is it okay to agree on a subject with a co-worker by responding "Cool Beans! + :@)"?

Too enthusiastic? Thought so.

CitizenB

Definition of Dorkus: "Someone who is dorky but just doesn't care that he/she is a dork, thus making them very cool in the eyes of other dorkii."

Zen-less Widgets and Other Tech Stuff

Citizens:

I must say this blogging thing has opened many doors - tech wise. Already hyperactive, I've now gone interactive and possibly radioactive from too much face time with the world wide web. I've peeked behind the tech door and now you're looking (virtually) at a person who has a gmail account (iamcitizenb@gmail.com) and an iGoogle home page with a highly functional layout.

My personalized page displays the usual suspects of date & time, calendar, local news, weather (including an impressive Doppler radar), local links, movies, and TV guide. I added a few national news and political sites, business and market watch, and on the opposite end of the spectrum items like EW.com and People. We all know how important it is to keep up with the latest celebrity assaults, top 100 teen idols (there are more than 10?), and hits and misses on the red carpet.

I also added a Fat Loss Tip of the Day (don't eat croutons), Flower of the Day (Freesia, meaning trust & innocence), NY Times crossword, and other random stuff.

I've managed to become slightly more technical all while discouraging Marshall The Cat and his constant attempts to interfere. Once he paw-typed "zzzzzz" in place of my preset "user name" when he happened to step on my laptop at a very critical log-in moment. Fortunately, I didn't have to make the dreaded call to the Help Desk... "Yes, hello...ugh...my cat erased my user name. Okay, let me remove him from the key board."

Now to the topic of widgets; specifically Meditation Chimes. I liked the idea of something interactive (and calming) and decided to add it as a feature to iGoogle and my blog site. I truly enjoy the ding, dong, bong of the chimes. It's relaxing especially with eyes closed. The problem with closed eyes is that I end up missing the mallet and clicking on the Doppler radar on iGoogle or "The Citizen Archives" on the blog.

Remember the satisfaction of banging on a xylophone as a kid? This will not happen with the widget Meditation Chimes. The fundamental flaw with Meditation Chimes is that you can only bong one chime at a time. There is no jazzing it up by hitting multiple chimes and there is absolutely no grand maestro finale with a dramatic sweep of the mallet across the length of chimes.

While I'm happy with my newly found tech savvy, I'm reminded that the wildest widgets in the world can't replace the experience of the real thing...and I'm more likely to find my Zen chomping croutons.

Ding, dong, bong,

CitizenB

If You Can't Beat'em, Join'em

Dear Citizens,

Last night the Republicans rolled out their best version of Obama, Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal. Young, ethnic and highly educated. That's where the comparison ends. In his address, Obama spoke to us as adults. Jindal seemed to be speaking to a group of third-graders. I admit it was difficult to take him seriously because he reminded me of an Indian-American version of Kenneth - The Page on "30 Rock." If I remember correctly, there was an episode where Kenneth reminisced about his Daddy taking him to the store. (Okay, I made that up.)

I'm sure Jindal has lots of potential as a Republican politician but last night he didn't say much. What could he say? He was a little sideways in stating the stimulus bill was "irresponsible" considering he accepted $3.7B of the $3.8B offered to LA. (I suppose only $100M was irresponsible.) He also didn't mention the billions the evil government paid to rebuild after Katrina.

IMO, we are the government and we gotta do what we gotta do. Yes, the current state of affairs and resulting stimulus plan is painful and unfair in many respects; especially for fiscally responsible American citizens. As one of those citizens, I don't like it... but I'm willing to look at the big picture and what's at stake for all of us.

Okay, so we must act quickly in this crisis and there's a lot of ground to cover. I'm all for getting the heart beating again ("clear!") while simultaneously making things happen like health care reform. Because we, the government, are historically slow to act, I'm hesitant to say let's be careful about acting all at once. We don't want a mind-boggling amount of money to be squandered. There must be change at the core or money won't fix anything. Obama recognizes this.

Lastly, the atmosphere in the house chamber was so incredibly different from the last - well, forever. Where has our leadership been for all these years?

Obama gave a brave and highly ambitious speech. And, yes, we need his kind of leadership.

CitizenB

Haiku Sunday

on the smooth stone step
a yellow bird waits, alone
not to become prey