point/counterpoint.

Back when I was teaching, Mondays were some sort of dark, omnipotent force that loomed over all my weekend joys. I knew that whatever pleasures I was enjoying outside of school would soon be overshadowed by my return to work on Monday morning. Since I've been staying home, though, Monday is almost as nice as Friday except it isn't Friday. Today was a Monday. A Monday that is still almost a Friday. Am I sounding befuddled yet? With no more ado, I bring you "Point/Counterpoint."

• The power was out this morning causing E to oversleep and cut it close to work.
• I was unaffected, dug deeper into the covers to finish my sleep, and had a fleeting thought of sympathy for him as he scurried off to work.

• The boy child awoke much earlier - screaming, nonetheless - than he should have because he had to pee (and at almost-five, still won't get out of bed until someone gets him out - which in itself could be a point/counterpoint...I digress.).
• He did not pee in the bed and I did not have to wash urine soaked sheets.

• I had to go to the grocery store with two sleep deprived, grumpy kids.
• It did not rain despite forecasts predicting that it would.

• The boy fell off the end of the buggy and injured his foot causing it to bleed.
• It wasn't my foot, and he no longer insists on riding the end of the cart.

• It's Monday.
• I could be teaching ninety hormonal, insolent, angry teenagers while waiting for the weekend.

The icing on the cake? They both still nap and are doing so now; small miracles and all. Happy Monday, y'all.

[For those of you - and there are a few of you that I know of - who've been following Matt Logelin's blog, he'll be on O.prah today if you want to check it out. It seems I always find out about these things after they're over, so here's your heads-up.]

the rabbit hole

Up to this point, I feel like I've done a fairly decent job of keeping all my internet personalities (shush it!) in tidy, little obscure corners. The blog is separate from the discussion boards, which is all I had to contend with until I - cue ominous music - joined Facebook. I know. Famous last words, right? Anyway, lots of you are FB friends, and I talk to you in real life, too. This is all good. It's the folks I know in real life that concern me. The old blog has cleaned up a lot since the good old days: a little less language a lot more restraint with family laundry. Regardless of this, I know that I can write what I want and how I want. The discussion board/online community is another beast entirely; I'm about as transparent as possible (as it applies to the board). There's really no reason not to be in that case. And Facebook. Damn you, Facebook. You've thrown an ugly little wrench into my well-laid plans.

It started with finding a few old high school people. Good, good. Then a few college friends, followed by some online friends from both here and the board. Still okay, but I noticed that a lot more people from the past were showing up.

The little sidebar thing on the Facebook page? The one that makes those Oracle-like predictions on who you should friend? Well, I saw a face and name from high school that I'd rather have forgotten about entirely should I be so lucky. He, himself, isn't quite the problem. His best friend, in high school anyway, is - well, was. Then it happened, just like I knew it would. I opened my email to see a friend request from Jeff. Why, yes, that is his real name. And it sat in my queue for days. Days.

His best friend, after some digging, is also on Facebook and, naturally, one of his friends. This friend? Absolutely scared the holy, living, breathing life right out of me for several, agonizing months my junior year in high school and "gifted" me an experience I will likely never forget. To make another long story short, it involved ONE single, solitary date followed by months of obsessive phone calls, stalking, rage, threats, etc. I officially started dating at 16, and this guy was maybe the fifth person I'd actually gone out with. What followed was a stream of phone calls threatening to burn my house down, to kill me, seeing this fool outside our house at midnight doing God knows what. To say I was terrified would be a vast understatement. To this day, the mention of this "friend's" name takes me right back to that place thirteen years ago.

Today, he's married, gained a good fifty pounds (good, because his wiry-ness added to his psychotic curb appeal), and travels the world. Hallelujah! So, certainly, he has better things to do than to resume torturing me. Right?

Have you had the misfortune of attracting any unsavory individuals from your past? I have my security settings set about as high as possible, yet I'm still unnervingly unsettled by all of this. This alone could cause me to pull the plug on this social site, because the last place I want to be, at this point in my life, is seventeen again and scared.