The Brain Dump that Facebook Missed

I'm taking a break from Facebook right now for several reasons: The noise of all those voices and notifications. (As of now, I've got 71 waiting for me when I get back next Monday.) The politics and fractious sharing of religious opinions. The pull to look again and again to see if anyone has written anything new. And oh yeah, the life envy. I admit to shoving down a bit of life envy from time to time. (The week before my birthday a friend posted about how sweet her littles were being whispering and planning surprises to delight her for her birthday. I got bubkis. A little twinge of covetousness.)

But more than that I found myself turning again and again to my online community of friends whenever I needed support, not to my family, not to God,  but to Facebook. It was all well and good in moderation, but I'm not that great at moderation. I realized the face I wanted to see was God's face, metaphorically, of course. So I decided to stop immersing myself in my virtual community, seek out real-life interaction with people I love, and try out some of those "Sunday school answers" in real life. (Q: How do you feel the Spirit? SSA: By fasting, praying, attending your meetings and the temple, service, etc.) So here are a few of my insights a week in.

1. I miss it. I miss the noise and the arguments and the announcements. My nephew and his wife just announced a pregnancy, and my SIL had a huge proud mommy moment. My husband says it's "weird" when I tell him to tell them I said congratulations. My daughters agree with him, so I'm tapping my foot, trying to keep my weirdo commitment to not facebook for two weeks. 

2, I have a backlog of thoughts I want to share with the wide, wide world. I want to write, Hence the blog post.

3. I have logged way more hours on my spiritual and intellectual pursuits than I normally do. I've been cleaning up other people's messes in Family Search. (Honestly, doesn't anyone else notice the thirty kids, and six Janes and six Joes and six of everything? Then I have to go research and see which Jane, Joe et al are the real ones and merge a bunch of people which messes with their kids . . . but I digress.) I've also done a lot more reading out loud to Caroline.

4. I am no more physically able to do other kinds of things, like cleaning, exercising, moving things, gardening than I was prior to this fb-fast. So I have a fair amount of sitting around thinking, "Hm, I can't really move: what should I do now?" Luckily, I live in my very own library, filled with my very favorite kind of books. Also, I have six million Kindle books. (OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit on the Kindle.) And a laptop. (Did I mention how hard it's been to NOT go to Facebook?)

5. I kind of hate Facebook, because Facebook destroyed casual blogging. Our easy likes, and short quips and one-stop shopping (all of our friends in one spot) was easy enough, but our status updates have been ridiculously easy. A sentence here, a paragraph there. I wrote when I blogged, and I made new friends through blogging. I miss it. But I love Facebook for all the reasons I hate it. I'm fickle like that. 

6, There have been new Doctor Who episodes and I've been staying away from Twitter and Facebook, so after I watch the new episode, my husband asks, "How was it?" And I respond, "SO GOOD!" and that's the end of it. No speculation about Missy's clever idea or chuckling over the clever lines or fist-shaking over Davros' evil plans or cheering over the Doctor choosing mercy and still winning the day. Nope. Nada. Silencio. However, point 3 sort of makes it worth it. I can squee with my online friends later. 

7. People know that I've written on my blog primarily though me posting a link on Facebook, so very few people will see this. Which is fine, I guess. It's the point, I guess. To talk to real people, not virtual ones. The problem is that some of my very favorite people in the world are ones I only have on-line contact with. I won't name names, but I'm fairly certain, they know who they are. 

So, given that maybe seven or eight people will read this, I'm not feeling all that motivated to put a big ribbon of a concluding paragraph onto this mess of thoughts, but please know I DO appreciate you reading it. 

The end. (Of this post. Sheesh. Don't get all dramatic on me.)

Aw, Moffat's a Poet!

I am alone.
The world which shook at my feet and the trees, the sky have gone.
And I am alone now.
Alone.
The wind bites now,
and the world is grey and I am alone here.
Can't see me.
Doesn't see me.
Can't see me.

Doctor Who, Series 8, Episode 1 by Steven Moffat

(I'd have entitled this "The Dino's Lament" if it was mine, as the Doctor was translating for the dinosaur while he was sleeping. Maybe I'd have gone with "Regeneration," though.)

(By the by, that's the new new new new Doctor sleeping up there, played by Peter Capaldi.)

Moffat's More Death Obsessed than I Am.

If I haven't outed myself as a nerd yet, allow me to do so. I am a Doctor Who fan. A big one. I have no TARDIS mugs or sonic screwdiver pens. No posters all over my rooms. Nevertheless.

Anyhow, I'll post a huge picture for those of you who need protection from Season 5, 6, and 7 spoilers. Here you go. Now go away or your life will be spoiled. (Also—move it along, time to catch up on your Who.)

Steven Moffet is just messing with us all. As I'm sure most people who've watched New Who can tell you, Moffet is mean and more than a teensy bit morbid. People die and then live. Then die again. (Lather-rinse-repeat.) Rory-and-Amy's deaths have became a running joke. Apparently Clara is going to follow suit. So here is a post that is really just for me to keep score. I'll be adding to it. [Don't flip out if it takes me a bit. "Just for me" means I am not trying to write the authoritative death lists for Whovians. Also I am not touching the Jack Harkness deaths, too many, too grotesque.]

Rory's Deaths:
1. Amy's Choice—Mrs. Pogett
2. Amy's Choice—Blown up when the doctor blew up the TARDIS.
3. Cold Blood—Shot by the Silerian Restac (intended for the Doctor) and body absorbed by the light, erased from time.
4, The Curse of the Black Spot—A toss up between drowning, and being vaporized by the touch of a stroppy homicidal mermaid, one of the two got him.
5. The Curse of the Black Spot—Appears to drown when taken off life support.
6. The Doctor's Wife—Died of old age in the TARDIS, driven to insanity by House.
7. The Angels Take Manhattan—Died from old age at Winter Quay.
8. The Angels Take Manhattan—Jumped from roof of Winter Quay.
9. The Angels Take Manhattan—Lived to death in the past, died for real at age 82. (This time they really mean it. Ten points if you can guess the show that's from.)

Amy's Deaths:
1. Amy's Choice—Drove van into wall.
2. Amy's Choice—Doctor blew up the TARDIS.
3. Hungry Earth—Amy appears to die when she gets swallowed up by the earth.
4. Girl Who Waited—Older Amy killed by the kindness of hand-bots and simultaneously wiped from existence. 
5. The Angels Take Manhattan—Jumped from roof at Winter Quay.
6. The Angels Take Manhattan—Lived to death in the past, died for real at age 87.

Clara's Deaths:
1. Asylum of the Daleks—Blown up.
2. The Snowmen—Fell to death.
3. The Bells of St. John—Soul sucked out by a little girl spoon-head at the base of the stairs.
4. The Bells of St. John—Soul sucked out by a doctor spoon-head at the café.
5. Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS—Melted into a lava monster thingy. (I believe they are known in certain circles as "ossified creatures.")
6. The Name of the Doctor—OK, Clara officially wins most deaths of anyone in Who, old or new. How can you even count after that? 

If, by chance, you are not a Doctor Who fan, I suggest that you try it out. Get ready for cheesy special effects, some over-the-top moralizing, some melodrama, and some good clean fun. In theory, it's a children's show, but it's too scary for my littlest who is six.

As an aside, I must admit that I had a very good time double checking my list.