The Virginia Woolf of the Digital Age


Facebook was a lot of fun until my husband joined. Then I felt like I was instantly under scrutiny. Who’s that friend? I can’t believe you liked that? Or worse, the unnecessary added comments to my friends. Yes, I married “Mr. Dish it out, but can’t take it”. Sorry friends!

Dear hubs, I don’t care how the Yankees are doing and and No, for the love of gawd, I do not want to play any games.

It used to be a place where (as I like to consider at least 😉 my witty, snarky, insightful comments could escape the recesses of my brain and find a home “on the page”. A way to connect to long-lost friends and to keep in contact with folks like myself, people who’s kids lives have overtaken all those moments that we used to squander. (Ooh, if I could get back just a sniff of all the time I had to myself in my 20’s!) A portal where inside jokes were not up for conversation.

Anywho0, now Facebook is just another area of my life that is altered, restricted, shared or as I see it, co-opted by the hubs.

Frankly, I don’t want to share. I want a blog space of my own. I want to write freely about how I see the world, what I find funny, curious, disturbing, arcane. I want to throw my thoughts out into the universe in the hopes that they might bring a little chuckle, joy or sense of “Hmm… I never thought of it that way” to someone’s day. You know, do no harm. If you like it, awesome. If you don’t, ignore. No biggie!

I share a bed with the hubs (all 6’1″ 300 lbs of him), I share a commute with my daughter, I share an office space with my co-workers, I share the bathroom with my cat and my 3 year old. I have given up on watching TV and using my computer while anyone in my house is awake. I think a blog is not asking so much.

Besides, I have not lost all hope. Perhaps a little space to think will allow me to release, rethink, forgive and move forward. I am neither looking for a river or rocks.


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