I once heard this bit of advice when I was interested in becoming a rich and famous writer.
Write what you know.
Unfortunately, I didn’t follow that advice at the time, and it may be at least one reason why I became neither rich nor famous as an author. I’ve probably gotten better at following that advice. Most of my blog posts have been about things that I know. Psychiatric nursing. Getting drunk. Doing stupid stuff… However, I doubt I’ll ever become rich or famous no matter how many Rules of Writing I follow.
The most important thing, according to the people in the know, was to just keep writing. Just in cases you were wondering…
I’ve had a lots of time to ponder the wisdom of those words, but I think you actually have to be a good writer in order to achieve fame and fortune.
I doubt I’ll ever attempt to write another novel. I’m content with an occasional post in my blog. And is there such a thing as a rich and famous blogger? I suppose it’s possible, but only because I believe almost anything is possible.
I have a lots of time to ponder life; its many facets and mysteries. I get a lots of different points of view from my friends on social media.
One of the things I started pondering recently came from a post on Facebook from one of my friends:
Is it just me, or are people getting stupider?
Technology is a wonderful thing, but with so much knowledge and information available at our fingertips, maybe we are getting stupider. Well, not my generation. The ones that followed us.
I’m pretty sure every generation thinks they’re the only cool generation. The preceding generation is over the hill. The following generation doesn’t have a clue. And there may be some truth to that.
And then again, maybe my generation is responsible for producing a couple of generations of moronheads. They may not know shit, but they are technological wizards when it comes to finding what they want/need to know.
There’s an app for that.
That bit of advertising genius was aimed at Generations X, Y and Z. Not at me or my generation. We’re still trying to figure out if the Snapchamp is cute or creepy.
* * * *
I used to belong to a lots of groups on Facebook, but I’ve bailed on almost all of them. I found myself getting annoyed by the things the stupid people in the groups posted. It’s one of transitions you go through when you retire.
I used to belong to a Classic Movie group. I like classic movies. I thought there might be some valuable insights posted by other classic movie fans. I was wrong. This was one of the insightful posts from that group:
What’s your favorite Doris Day movie? I like Pillow Talk
There were literally thousands of posts like unto that, just change the name of the actor, and the movie.
But this post still has me scratching what’s left of the hair on my head:
I love Robert Redford. I love all of his movies! My favorite is Paul Newman!!
That was pretty much my reaction, too. I’m no longer a member of that group.
* * * *
The Winter Olympics started a few days ago. I love the Olympics, too. So I became a member of the Official Winter Olympics Facebook page last Friday. And then I waited for the Opening Ceremony on come on at 8:00 PM.
While I waited, I read posts from my fellow lovers of the Olympics. There were a lots of posts like unto this:
Hello from Seattle! Go Team USA! Where are you and who do you want to win?
And I was okay with that. I mean, it’s the Olympics. Of course you’re going to root for your country. Who doesn’t? I responded that I was in Mexico, rooting for the Mexican Bobsled/Curling/ Ski Team.
Someone from Nigeria posted that she was proud of the Nigerian Bobsled team, the first African bobsled team in history. And a guy from the US responded, I think Jamaica was first.
And I responded, Yes, the African nation of Jamaica!
I could feel the Sands of Stupididity starting to flow into the hourglass, and then it happened, at 4:00 PM. Someone posted this:
I can’t find the Olympics on my TV! Am I missing something?
My first response was this: Yes! Your fucking brain! But I toned it down and said this instead: Yes, the Olympics.
And then I bailed on that group, too.
If there’s a message in this post, it’s this:
Never underestimate the power of stupidity
* * * *
I spend a lots of time on Facebook. I’m retired. Time is a resource that I have in abundance. I keep up with all of my virtual friends; their triumphs, their heartaches.
A couple of them just got married. A couple more of them are pregnant. One of them might be going to prison for some things she did several years ago when she was strung out on drugs.
When I read her post, the first thing I thought was, There but for the grace of God…
I’ve become much more selective about the people I send Friend Requests to. I haven’t had anyone ask me if I want to see naked pictures of them or sex chat in months. But I have been getting requests for something else.
Money. Or an iTunes card, whatever that is. I’ve only given serious thought to sending money to someone once, but I actually knew her, and she’s a sweet girl. I’ve never seriously considered sending money to someone I’ve never met.
And there’s one other thing some of my virtual friends are looking for:
Yeah, I don’t get it either. I’m not sure I could ever admit I met my wife on Facebook. I know online dating sites have become very popular, but I’m not sure I would ever use one.
And the thing I don’t get the most is Why me? I mean, there’s nothing on my Facebook profile that indicates that I would be interested in dating anyone. Maybe I should have a few people look at it, just to make sure…
This is an amalgamation of several conversations I’ve had over the last six months or so. I doubt any of them have been this long or detailed.
Random Girl: Hi where are you from
Me: That information is on my profile page. If you don’t mind my asking, why did you send me a friend request?
Random Girl: Im looking for a serious relationship with a serious man.
Me: Sorry. I can’t help you. I’m not a serious man. You can ask around. I’m probably the least serious man on the planet.
Random Girl: lol your funny
Me: It’s you’re, not your…
Random Girl: what ever I want to meet you
Me: Are you on drugs?
Random Girl: no when can we meet
Me: Let me ask my wife. She doesn’t think that’s a good idea.
Random Girl: your married
Me: It’s you’re, not your… Yes, I’m very married. My wife is a supermodel. You would’ve known that if you had read my profile page.
Random Girl: thats okay. I still want to meet you send me a picture
Me: No. There’s a picture of me on my profile page
Random Girl: okay your really handsome
Me: It’s you’re, not your. That’s not my real picture. I look hideous. I was blown up by a bomb during the war.
Random Girl: you were in the war which one
Me: All of them since the American Civil War. I was almost killed at the Battle of Gettysburg.
Random Girl: okay I still want to meet you
Me: No, you don’t. The Battle of Gettysburg was fought in 1863. Besides, I live in Mexico. You’d hate it here.
Random Girl: Ive never been to mexico do you live on the beach
Me: No, I don’t live on the beach. I live in the mountains. It’s boring here, you’d hate it here after twenty minutes. Besides, I’m probably old enough to be your father.
Random Girl: how old are you
Me: I’m 62. How old are you?
Random Girl: Im 28 age isn’t important
Me: Jesus! I’m old enough to be your grandfather! The only people who say that are stupid young people!
Random Girl: lol I don’t like boys my age I want a mature man who will treat me nice like you
Me: You don’t even know me! I could be a serial killer!
Random Girl: lol what do you do in mexico
Me: I just told you, I’m a serial killer. Why else would I be in Mexico?
Random Girl: I dont think youd hurt me
Me: That’s what the last three girls like you said. I’m running out of room in my backyard
Random Girl: for what
Me: To bury bodies
Random Girl: okay when can I come see you
Me: You can’t. I’m married. And if I don’t kill you, my wife will.
Random Girl: why would you’re wife want to kill me
Me: It’s your, not you’re. She’s a serial killer, too. That’s why we make such a cute couple.
Random Girl: but I want to take care of you
Me: I weigh five hundred pounds. I haven’t had a bath in a week. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.
Random Girl: its okay
Me: Oh, that’s different. I just shit my pants. How long will it take you to get here?
So far no one has hung in there after that line, no matter how much they said they wanted to meet me.