Tag: Ranting

They’re Watching You


Hey. Private eyes. They’re watching you… And you asked for it. No, this doesn’t have anything to do with conspiracy theories, Big Brother, Joseph Stalin and the Communists or the novel 1984 by the brilliant George Orwell. It has everything to do with a website you’re consciously signed up for and advertised your life on…

Everyone seems to wish to become a larger than life reality TV star on Facebook. No one seems to care that their private lives are on display, like a circus for all to see. Are you trying to create your own gossip website about yourself, people? Seriously. It looks like it by all of the crazy statuses you’re posting about yourself.

“O.M.G. I am sooo mad @ him he is making me soo mad i hate himm”

“i am tired of everyone being jerks! u all kno who u r!” (This oddball may also even post the names of people upsetting them.)

“i love this girl soo much she is my world” Blah blah, include a lot more romantic details and such…

And let’s point the big, fat white elephant out in the room here. All of the stupid pictures of yourself drinking and looking like a fool are not flattering. Who do you think you are? Kim Kardashian? P Diddy? Do you think you are glamorous or cool by doing this? (They’re not people to emulate, by the way.)

Service - Charlotte '08 National Youth Fine Arts

We seem to have an attention hog generation, whose addiction is promoting their entire lives to the world. It’s as if they are on their own stage, not even caring who knows every detail about their lives. Generations before us seemed to understand that creating your own rumors was a dumb idea… We humans thrive on gossip and seeing the demise of others when we often feel terrible about our own lives. That’s not an idealistic concept to assume such things but it is the truth.


(Great Grandma Sandra and my Grandpa)

A few weeks ago, my Sicilian Grandpa gave me some advice about being private – for your own good. His mother, Sandra, who emigrated from Sicily to America when she was in her 20s, told him that: “You shouldn’t tell everyone about everything that is happening in your life.” He continued with what else she told him, saying, “They may act like they care when they ask you what you’re doing, but as soon as they’ll listen to you, they’ll turn around and use what you told them against you. You can’t trust everyone.”

And believe me, a full blooded Sicilian would know the meaning of trust… And betrayal. Don’t believe me?


Two words: The Godfather. Sometimes I wonder if Don Corleone was an influence on my Grandpa. Anyway, I digress… Really, people don’t change. Even if my grandma gave that advice to my grandpa 60 years ago (Before Facebook, computers and even LCD alarm clocks), it still stands today. People don’t change much.

It’s not to say you should go live in a cave and not share anything about your life with anyone… I have a Facebook account also, to keep in touch with family and friends easily and make new friends. But you have to be careful about what you share. Some say you shouldn’t have anything to hide about your life, which is true, but your most intimate thoughts should not be broadcasted on the internet for the world to see. (It’s called a journal, people).

I mean even when I was 9 years old, journals were being sold that had LOCKS on them. Now instead of locking away their most sincere ponderings of the heart in a lock and key journal, kids are now broadcoasting every whiff of the mind on the internet!

Nobody thinks that Facebook is almost like Big Brother – or private eyes. When you’re on Facebook, you should act like theres spies on the lose trying to convict you of everything. I mean, I prefer to call them Facebook creepers. They are private eyes, and they’re watching you.. Hmm. They see your every move… Watching your every move….. Hmm, I feel a song coming on!! (Surprising.)

Thank you, Hall and Oates, for practically writing the Facebook theme song in the 80s. You may have trumped Nostradomus on this one!

But, okay, the point being, any time you’re about to publicly insult your ex, or complain about how bad your mom and dad are for not letting you go see some gruesome movie – or you’re just plain ticked and feel like ranting on about anyone you please, or posting those foolish pictures of you being drunk and/or insane looking.. Remember … Private eyes, they’re watchin’ you!

Yarn and Pseudo-Intellectualists

Hey, so lately, I’ve been getting back into crocheting. It’s been one of those on-again off-again things most of my life, like a bad relationship plot line in a soap opera. The reason I love to do it is because I can keep my hands busy and actually create something while watching TV, so I don’t feel like my life is completely wasting away. I’m surprised I don’t have arthritis or carpel tunnel syndrome already, between playing piano, typing and crocheting all the time. Let’s hope they have a cure for arthritis by the time I hit 60, I may turn out to be the worse case out there!

Anyway… My Grandma Peggy (Margaret) learned how to crochet nearly 50 years ago, and my mom learned from her quite a few years back, too. I followed in their footsteps and learned how to crochet around the age of 10. I wanted to try it when I was 5 but mom thought, “Hooks, 5 year old child, no.” (Thanks mom for not letting me lose an eyeball.)

As I looked up the history of crochet, I realized it may be another one of those things that could be in my blood. Crochet is french for Hook… And the French frequented the practice of crocheting in the late 1800s as a way to make money. Oui oui, vous aimez les Fran├žais! That could be another reason as to why I have such an affinity to it at such a young age…? Who knows, but I obviously like to hypothesize.

It’s funny, most 19 year olds are not spending their Friday nights making sweaters for their mugs… And even still as I don’t live vicariously, I’ll end up with arthritis and health problems regardless. (Irony.) But hey, I like to keep people surprised and be a true freethinker. It’s not freethinking to go and be your typical young adult who only thinks about MTV and whatever dumb television shows are out now, and ramble on about a subject that sounds relatively intelligent, such as the rights of animals when all you are really doing is rehashing everything PETA has already said, or really over thinking something that is plainly in black and white. Like, “What is truth? Is truth the absence of lies? Or is it mostly truth with some lie?” Blah blah blah… No, that’s not being intelligent or thinking logically, that’s pseudo-intellectualism and it really has nothing to do with being intelligent, people…

Woah, sorry. Bunny trail. So instead of writing mindless blog entries about nothing that matters (Hmm), I crochet. This is what I’ve been working on lately:

It’s a “Mug Cozy”. (I call it mug sweater.) Lately (Or always), it’s been considered quite tacky to wear crocheted sweaters but cups don’t think anything of it, so I figured, why not make a few for them? They don’t complain when you stick boiling hot water in them… So they won’t mind if you stick a disgustingly tacky sweater on them either.

But come on, you know that thing it’s wearing is CUTE!


And quite frankly I’m a little OCD, so the other day I decided to crochet a coaster for my coffee to sit on so it doesn’t hurt the finish on my Viscount piano. I mean, yes, forget the fact I could be a clumsy baffoon and knock the coffee off of the ledge and onto my keys and ruin the electronics in it… I’m more worried about the warmth of the cup on the mahogany finish. Caffeine IS an addiction that alters your mind, obviously.

So that’s what is up in my life lately. I bet you didn’t know someone could write a blog entry this long based on crocheting, could you? Obviously a Sicilian could make a speech out of anything, mia amici… Anything at all. I didn’t make it into the top 5% (70 out of about 15,000) in the speech division at a national arts competition for nothing. I sure can talk. About anything.