“If I’d had any sense, you know,” he says aloud, a lifetime of other thoughts folding and unfolding inside his head, “I’d never have gotten caught up in that mess.” He says mess as though the word itself were dirty, and his voice rattles in his throat with the rasping tremor of age, as his bones rattle in his hands with the same shake.
Standing Up, Say Something
The previous entry is about the site “The Mouthy Housewives” wherein a small collective of women both reinforce and subvert the strange notion of “Perfection” embodied by fictional women such as Donna Reed or Mrs. Ward Cleaver. They’re a combination of 50’s housewife, the anti-Martha Stewart, Desperate Housewives of Wherever, and a kind of undead Emily Post. The site is meant to be taken with a grain of salt (it’s even got a disclaimer, how nice!) — the advice is neither psychologically-sound, nor always on point — but at times it veers well away from ‘helpful’ and right smack into ‘as damaging as a cricket-bat to the forebrain.
Case in point: this particular advice post.
I spoke up, and then I was worried I might’ve made an idiot of myself. I’m no longer afraid of that — I think I said what I meant to say, and I said it well. I also think I won’t change their minds, which is a little sad. I don’t think I have anything more to say on this, but it doesn’t mean it’s all hashed-out. It doesn’t mean the discussion’s over. It’s only really just beginning. Frankly, if you’ve got something to say, you should stand up and say something, yourself.
I mean, really — why let me have all the fun?
Open mouth, insert foot?
Sometimes, when Someone Is Wrong on the internet, you feel a need to speak up, and clearly, fully, and with big, long, wordy babblings. I’m not sure you should ever respond to this need with anything other than a glass of water and a few episodes of Dr. Who. Otherwise, you might be compelled to not only respond, but respond with authority, righteousness, and vigor. Repeatedly.
Crap.
I should never be allowed to comment in a public forum. Inevitably, I will push too hard, and ultimately feel like a complete idiot. And then, there are my words! Immortalized on the intarwebs, for all to remember that my GOD that woman is self-important and dramatic!
That woman being me, I mean.
See, someone on FB linked to a post, and from there, I read half the guy’s website, because I was intrigued, but then there was link surfing, and then POW there I was, on a site where someone was writing an advice column. A question came up, involving relationships and behavior, and I felt that the person giving advice did not just a poor job, but a wretchedly offensive one, and I gave advice of my own, and chastised the columnist, you know, just to round out my poor choices.
And then, when they responded? Did I close my mouth? No!
Because, you see, I was right.
God help us all, I was right.
DAMNIT.
I opened my big mouth even WIDER and now… Now, no doubt, someone, somewhere, is reading that, and in their lovely little mind is fomenting a delicious, acidic, scorching case of Someone Is Wrong On The Internet And I Must Tell Them. And they caught it from me. 🙁
The issue still being that I think, in this case… I’m right. It’s just that I’m not sure it was in my best interest to be so passionate, so vehement, and I certainly could’ve been less arrogant about it.
Crap. Crap crap CRAP. Crow tastes like CRAP.
Ugh. When, lovely reader, do you stand up for something that is important? Always? When it suits? When you can be dramatic? When you think you stand the chance of being best heard? When you’re pissed off? When you’re right? When do you open your mouth, and when do you decide to not bother, even though you feel as though ‘not bothering’ is only making the situation more tenable for something horrible?
Do you chastise bullies? Do you tell other parents not to yell at their children in the store? Do you shake a disapproving finger at jaywalkers? Do you scorn those who spit on the sidewalk? Do you vote for equal rights legislation? Picket? March? Boycott? If you saw a man beating his wife, would you stop and try to help? What if you only heard it through the wall? How do you know when to act?
What’s an acceptable action? When is it acceptable? What is it all right to get worked up over?
I fear I have no scope — sometimes it seems all things, from the cereal going stale to mass murder in Cambodia, can rile me up and make me feel like I Have Something To Say and I’m not sure I have EVER said anything that made anything different or better.
Usually I just end up feeling a bit stupid, and hoping that no one noticed me.
Thoughts? I’d love to hear your take on this.
Scattered
Whenever I end up reading a poignant article someone else has written that generates many, many comments because it was well-thought-out, well-written, and well-publicized, I often end up thinking about writing some kind of incredible post of my own that’s going to not only garner attention, but actually change the world because it’s obviously that well-written, that witty, that un-ignorable. But instead of starting to write, I go over it in my head, over and over it, looking for all the flaws I can find, and pre-editing them before they’re even written, coming up with arguments against them so I can make sure I don’t fall into some humiliatingly simple trap of false logic which will enable all the /b/4chan and SomethingAwful trolls and other Social Media griefers to turn me into a laughing stock, purely because of my own ridiculous ignorance.
Trust me, it wouldn’t be that hard.
Of course, once I start opening up the counter-arguments, none of which have come to light because I haven’t written anything yet, I then slip a little further into my head, thinking up the specific imaginary comments I would get based on reactions to my incredible, striking, thought-provoking piece. From there, I am suddenly thinking up all my perfectly witty responses to the agreeable comments, and the scathingly superior responses to those subhuman rejects who would dare disagree. Then, after everything from Boingboing to Reddit to Cheezburger to Facebook had linked and loled and trolled and memed and the obvious guest appearances on 20/20 and Good Morning America and a token nod from Anonymous, I would emerge from an international flame war as The First Blogger to Win an Argument, Ever.
Of course, this would obviously be worthy of a Nobel prize, and I am given a trophy made of solid diamonds and platinum, and my MacBook is bronzed, and the resulting book tour and movie rights land me a place in history as The Most Clever Person With All the Lulz, and then about ten minutes later, I’m smiling to myself because in my head, it was such an accomplishment but I’m so wonderfully modest that I’ve moved on from the fame and paparazzi and am now content to work on perfecting my souffle technique, and I don’t even answer reporters’ questions about it anymore, all “I have my reasons, thank you,” mysterious and dark eyeshadow that I finally managed to learn how to wear without looking like I was punched in the eyes by wandering charcoal golems, and then I remember that I was supposed to walk the dog and dust-mop the floor and I close my Macbook and get up and by the time I go put on my left sneaker, I’ve forgotten the thread of what I was going to write, and by the time I put on my right sneaker, I’ve forgotten why I got up out of the chair, and the post that would have saved the world never gets written.
This is the reason behind one of three things: A need for a dog-walker, a need for a housecleaner, or a need to up my ADD medication — I’m just not sure which. Until I figure it out, you may find me wandering in circles, giggling quietly to myself, wearing only one sneaker.
Thunderstruck
Or maybe just delightedly fangirling.
Warren Ellis promoted my book on his site.
I got a whole post, all to myself.
Commence high-pitched ‘EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!’ noise, starting… NOW
Posted in Fiction, Flash
Tagged book, flash fiction, internet, networking, personal, publishing, writing
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