A Short Story

Several months ago there was a Facebook post going around where you were supposed to make up a completely fictional story of how you met a friend.  My friend's and I had a ton of fun with our fake stories and they were almost an exercise in "five minute" writing (the kind where you're given a subject and five minutes to write as much as you can about it.)

Without further adieu, for your reading enjoyment:

How I Met Marc

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away there was a small planet called Sporgia. On the equator, near the Pelvienne Inlet lay the Kingdom of Rougburnne.

The princess of Rougburnne, the horrific Janet, was a tyrant of the worst kind. Her humble servants slaved all day to fill her every whim while the good people of Rougburnne, were forced by cruel taskmasters to mine germantium.

One day, a tall roguish man calling himself Marc stumbled into Rougburnne. When it was discovered he came from a mysterious planet called Earth, Princess Janet sought to lure him into a coalition. Together, Earth and Sporgia would pool their resources against the nearby planet, Splunk.

Splunk, was a peaceful planet and had been withstanding attacks from Rougburrne for years. Overtime, the great and mighty Sarah, ruler of Splunk, decided she was sick and tired of Janet's behavior. From the opposite side of the planet, Sarah had been swiftly removing the germantium from the planets core. The supply of germantium was now so low that Princess Janet would surely notice within a few short weeks.

About the time Marc stumbled into the scene, Sarah had begun secretly helping the citizens of Rougburnne off the planet, as she intended to destroy it.

Now the real reason Marc was on planet Sporgia was because he had gotten off track. He was an astronaut tasked with interstellar preservation. Yes folks, he was an galactic sanitation engineer. He had ended up on Sporgia by mistake when he warped to the wrong coordinates. His natural curiosity then got the best of him and of course, he explored the planet and did what he did best, got into a pickle.

Marc was in the royal breakfast chamber with Princess Janet being served green eggs and ham when her trusted advisor rushed in and informed her of the mutiny and the planet’s impending destruction. Being totally into self-preservation, Marc grabbed the hand of the pretty servant and rushed with her to his space ship. Together they blasted off the planet just as it caved in on itself becoming a black hole.

And that's how I ended up on earth with Marc.

Damsel in Distress (Vulnerability, part 1)

I'm feeling a bit snarky. Even a person with the most simple needs, is complicated. I admit that. I often don’t even understand myself. There are subjects in which I contradict myself. I believe this is one of them.


Early in my youth, my childhood was very normal for the time period. My mom was stay at home mom while my father worked. She made all of our meals from scratch, hung our clothes out to dry to save money on electricity, helped us with our homework, read books to us at night, baked cookies, and grew a garden. Later in life, my father was injured and my mother took "what she knew" and became a housekeeper to support our family. After he recovered, they both continued to work together in the business my mom established.


Through this I learned perseverance, responsibility and independence. I remember a critical point when I was about seven when I realized that tears were a weakness and using them would not change things or get me what I wanted. I've hated to cry ever since. Emotions left you vulnerable. It was much safer to suppress them and not have to rely on anyone.


I had always wanted to keep up with the boys, but I began down a road of striving to be as good as them if not better.  I prided myself on my ability to throw the football as well as they could, to chase down a pop fly, to glory in my scabs and bruises and how I got them.


I think there are a lot of women out there like me.  We don't need a man. We possibly know more about our cars than you do, can change our own oil and a flat tire. We can balance our check book.  We'll work multiple jobs if that's what needs to be done to make ends meet. We don't mind traveling alone. We're perfectly capable of setting up a tent, starting a fire and aren't scared of things that go bump in the night. We can mow the lawn, wield an ax, fix a broken pipe, handle killing small rodents and even take out the trash.  I'm proud of being a strong woman. I wouldn't want to be co-dependent. However…


No one told me going down this road was going to completely backfire on me.


No one told me that men flock to the damsel in distress vibe like sharks react to blood.


Just because I don't  need a man, doesn't mean I don't need a Man. I'm not talking about sexually, because there are solutions for that…lots of them. Those of us that are strong and independent need emotional support. Even if we have trouble admitting it. 


We're dying inside.


Worse, we'll justify with ourselves that we're fine.  We're always fine.


I read that when people drown they don't actually flail around screaming and calling for help like they portray in the movies. It's actually when they're quiet and still that they're probably drowning. How To Identify Drowning (Fascinating article; check it out if you spend much time around water.)


I guess, bottom line what I'm saying is, before you go play hero to rescue that whiny bitch needy damsel flailing around looking for attention calling for help with her Facebook posts or tweets, better make sure your own people aren't drowning.

Guys..I'd really like YOUR feedback on this. 

Wait a Minute Mister Postman...

According to a recent Wikipedia article there are over two hundred active social networking sites. Sometimes I picture humanity as a giant school of fish darting from one social network to another. Getting your friends and family to sign up for a new platform is easy. Getting them to use it is quite another. Finding a single common one? Nearly impossible.

With so many forms of communication, how do you talk to people? Actual phone calls? Emails? Text messages? Instant messages? Twitter? Facebook posts? Facebook messages? Blog posts?

Do you repeat the same message across platforms? Or do people who follow you on twitter get a different persona than those who friend you on Facebook?

Do you have an open personality where your work, personal and family life all blend? Or do you keep your work friends separate from your family? I don’t know about you but I don’t want my work friends to have the same information about me as my aunts, uncles and cousins. I don’t want my parents seeing the drunken picture from last week’s BBQ when I thought it would be a good idea to put my bra on the outside of my clothes.

On average, how far from your body is your smart phone at any given moment? For me, on average, two feet. Maybe less. At night, it’s on my bedside table charging. It also doubles as my alarm clock. In addition, we offer emergency tech support and have a phone tree system that I’m a part of.  When I’m working it sits under my monitor. When I’m driving it’s in a little cubby in the dash. When I shower, I use it to listen to music. Getting a clear picture? My phone is pretty much a constant companion which means I’m always connected to email, Facebook, twitter and text messages.

I don’t know if they’re to the same extreme, but most my friends are similar. So it begs the question, in my opinion, what’s an acceptable time frame for responding to said communications? Minutes? Hours? Days? Does it vary depending on the form? Text messages should be responded to within a certain number of hours? Emails a few days? Facebook posts, maybe never? What makes sense to you?  Does the ease of accessibility make you more inclined to respond quickly or less? Does the type of relationship change your expectation? Do you expect your best friend to respond to your text messages within minutes? Your parents in days? Does friending your parents on Facebook get you out of developing a more personal relationship with them? Does it substitute for an actual relationship or help build your “real” life one?

When we get communication from someone that takes a little more effort, do we give it the appreciation it deserves?  A well thought out email or even more rarely, a hand written letter, should be treated as the special gift that it is. Someone took the time to sit down and type you their thoughts and feelings or to share some news. Perhaps they physically took pen to paper, added an actual stamp and maybe even licked the envelope!

My parents aren’t techie people. They still sign their text messages, “love mom.” I can’t tell you how awesome it makes me feel when I open my mailbox and find bill, bill, bill, letter from Mom.  When my friend was last deployed to Afghanistan I sent several care packages. I'll always treasure the handwritten thank you letters I received.

I hope this inspires you to pick up a Hallmark card or write a letter and make someone’s day a little brighter.

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