Facebook fulfilment

I am a malcontent but seriously, everyone on Facebook seems so happy and cheerful and active.
'I'm skydiving now right this minute! Watch me--streaming live feed!',
'This is a picture of my new pet piranha!'
'Look at my 3000 carat engagement ring.'

More and more and more. It is a never ending labyrinth of information exchange that leaves me feeling confused and lazy. And tired.

Are people doing more these days? Or are we just telling more about what we do these days.
I have had friends visit from out of town who sit at my dining table and instead of talking to me they are busy posting the fact that they are at my dining table to their other friends on Facebook.

Now I realize I am old fashioned but has this phenomenon not become a bit extreme. Extreme sports, extreme makeovers, extreme dieting. And now extreme friending?

Ok so I am not your usual Facebook type person. I have few friends. Even fewer close ones. I used to think I was a misanthrope but I am not really. I love talking to people. There are some friends I have who I wish would want to see me or talk to me as much as I do with them but alas I have had to accept that 'they are just not that into me as much as I'd like.'

I mull over whether I have wasted time and not cultivated enough close friends the kind you can just go visit without calling, for a coffee or a chat. Or maybe times aren't conducive to that. Or maybe since I live in America, its just not done here. In India that sort of calling on someone can be a huge pain in the neck. I will be the first to admit it. But still one wonders how it would be to have a friend like that-the kind Elizabeth Berg writes about. The kind whose kids grow up together and get married.

But enough about the real stuff.

Ah then there's Twitter. I opened a twitter account because my book's coming out soon.

Oh yes, how is this for a low key  announcement. My blog is misnamed now, thank you very much. My second novel will be coming out soon released by a fledgling publishing company. And my husband doesn't own it, neither does my brother. It is entirely unconnected to me by blood or friendship. That makes me legit at last!

Where was I? Oh yes Twitter. I opened a twitter account because I was told I should and I was told (at this seminar) to tweet regularly and create a following who will then perchance buy my book.

Tweet. About what exactly? I have opinions. I mean not horribly strong ones anymore. With two strong willed kids, I'm always bowing to a stronger will than my own. Can one not too strong willed tweet about anything with conviction? Who knows. I'm also too lazy to find out.

That's the other thing. This Facebook makes me feel like I am such a slacker. My 300 odd FB friends have visited countries in eastern Africa while I sit lounging about in my pajamas wondering what to snack on next. They are eating at the trendiest restaurants while I struggle to get a new dish to turn out right. They are doing so much. ALL the time. Getting the promotions, getting the fab jobs, traveling to the Arctic, having kids taking part themselves in six sporting events, sometimes all at once.

So is Facebook like a resume then?

Everyone is perfect on their resume. I mean everyone's resume has leadership skills, multitasking skills, people skills. Everyone has led projects worth a trillion $$. If everyone is leading who is following? Who is watching when everyone is skydiving and scaling mount Everest.

Who is left behind wondering why they are standing outside the coolest club, fully aware that even if they were inside they wouldn't know what to do?

Oh wait a minute. I know.

Its me.

Helpless

On Friday around 3, my husband gave me the news about the school shooting at Connecticut.

A few minutes later I left to pick up our son from Elementary school. The feeling foremost in my mind was one of helplessness and seething anger.

Many times I wanted to write about how I felt but every time I started, the words seemed shallow and artificial. The feelings expressed in flat adjectives, inadequate.

Driving down Main street, I realized that not far from our local Dairy Queen is a little cottage with an unpretentious sign outside. Firearms for sale, it says. A cute little cottage. A horrific cottage.

How easy for someone to stop there after lunch, buy a weapon, swing by K Mart for some ammunition and then oh well, look its 3:15, school gets out right about now. Maybe I could just....

Or lets make this even easier, mum owns a ton of guns, I could just borrow a few today. I'm sure she won't mind.

Little do we realize or perhaps at times such as these, we do realize how much power a random individual can have over our lives and if they put their evil minds to it, they can shatter lives as easy as smashing glasses against the wall. How easy it is to do harm.

Everyday we must end with a sigh of relief if nothing bad has happened is how I felt that day.

Our sons' teachers wrote to us parents asking us to hug our kids just a bit tighter that day. I didn't because if I had I would have broken down. I acted as normally as I usually do--my strict mean, brisk self. At least I tried to.

I had to because all that has been coming to mind since that afternoon is what the parents and survivors must be feeling. Pain so immeasurable. Pain of the kind I have no strength to bear. And every time I started to cry.

Every time we hand over our most precious ones to others to care for we take so many chances. We walk a tightrope everyday even with normal parenting. Worrying about whether your child may never return from school is something we haven't or at least I haven't lived through.

Ask a mother in Baghdad and there is the other side of the story. I got a glimpse of how that mother in those countries and places must feel. Every single day.

Death is something we are taught to expect, Untimely death not so much but we find ways to explain them--acts of God, war. Somehow we find solace.

But death in this manner--for no reason except that someone decided one fine day to take out his frustrations on innocent children is pure evil. And so easy to inflict that it leaves us trembling in our bones.

People are talking about the right to bear arms in a society that has much changed since it made sense to carry weapons everywhere. People are offering solutions asking teachers to carry weapons to defend themselves should such incidents occur.

If I lived alone in an isolated house in the mountains, perhaps, maybe I might keep a rifle handy for the odd bear. But assault weapons? Can you picture your daughter's kindergarten teacher keeping an assault weapon under her desk just in case?

Where do we go from here? How can this civilized society call itself that when such things go on happening.

Terrorism, suicide bombings, religious killings we get outraged about. But it can be defined. It is an aberration, against all Gods and religions. Yes. And must be stopped. Yes.

But this? What do we even call this? 

A Japanese life lesson

I saw a documentary called "Jiro Dreams of Sushi."

Jiro-san is a 3 star Michelin rated sushi chef. His restaurant Sukiyabashi has ten seats and people reserve even up to a year in advance. One month is the minimum recommended.

The sushi even on film looks wonderful. The 3 Michelin stars are for his consistent brilliance within great simplicity. They serve sushi and nothing but. No appetizers, no drinks. The tab is usually about $300 per person. And every person who has eaten there says it is worth it.

But what is equally amazing about the film is how the 85 year old Jiro lives his life and has always lived it. A stickler for routine, he takes the same train to work everyday, gets off at the same place if he can. He works almost every single day of the year. Only funerals are considered emergencies. He lives, eats and breathes sushi. No...great sushi.

Fending for himself from the age of 10, Jiso philosophizes--"Pick a trade, make sure you fall in love with it, and slowly master it, working on it everyday. Success is inevitable. Better yourself at what you do by aiming higher everyday."

The film then shows how he has done exactly that with sushi. Nothing but the best ingredients from the best suppliers who in turn source the best. Apprentices who have to learn how to squeeze a hot towel for the customers for months before they can even get a chance to touch the fish. It's a tough job few stay in for long. And when they do they stay for at least a decade before going off on their own.

The dedication and passion for their work and their food is palpable, inspiring.

I have always been a Japan-o-phile. Who isn't?

Their minimalism, their food, their discipline, their bordering on unrealistic work ethic. This film is a soft look at that very philosophy which has made Japan a great nation. Such a small country that has suffered so much in past years but filled with people like Jiro-san, they bounce back every time stronger and stronger.

All this has filled me with such awe...not to mention a whole lot of hunger for some fabulous sushi....