I try not to comment on politics too much in our discussions. This is primarily because when I do so, I tend to tick people off. This, in and of itself, doesn't bother me much. But when there really isn't room for debate (you and I can't engage in much of a back and forth), then it's just not worth commenting.
...with a few exceptions, this being one. I'm sure you have heard the "scandal" of the New York Representative who got into some hot water because he sent compromising photos of himself to random strangers via Twitter. He is a politician, is married, has a baby on the way, and sent the photos to people he had never met in his life. Um, ok. At first, I couldn't see the problem. I admit I am a bit more lax when it comes to morality than most, but the photos weren't nudes and he wasn't doing anything that compromised our country, so why is it my problem? But the more I learned about how he really didn't know the women to whom he sent the photos, the more concerned I became that the guy is, more than anything, completely stupid. But in discussing this with a friend, we noted that maybe he's just like many, many people around the world. He just doesn't get that the Internet is public.
As we have discussed before, I am completely paranoid. Although you all get to hear every thought that crosses my brain (and trust me, there aren't many), there is a level of anonymity. Apart, of course, from the fact that I know many of you personally. But I am a freak. I ask my friends not to post photos on Facebook and, as you know, comments that divulge personal info don't get published.
On the flip-side, though, is the fact that EVERYTHING we say and do on the Internet is public or potentially public. Trust me--in my line of work I have obtained emails between people who NEVER thought the outside world would see their comments. And suddenly it is an issue that the off-color joke you just sent might mean you have racist tendencies. But more than that, I have dealt with people who post on blogs or other public sites that "those damn lawyers" will "never catch me." Um, yeah, we will, and when you say stuff like that publicly we will easily do so. You get the picture. People just don't get that what they are saying is as though they had posted it in the New York Times, times a million.
So back to Representative W. What the heck? Seriously, how do you, as a public official, not know that this stuff is going to get out there? Or do you secretly want the world to know that you are (to use Jon Stewart's words) "ripped" and "huge"? Regardless, it can't be worth it. I don't give a crap about politicians' mistresses or drug habits or airport bathroom escapades. I do, however, care when our elected officials are dumb. And I just can't comprehend what could possibly make this man think that this stuff won't get out there. Weird, sexual photos. Perfect strangers. Internet. What am I missing here?
And so, my friends, please feel free to post whatever photos of yourself you feel like on this site. But understand that I will sell them to the hightest bidder. And if you are a politician, please have your apology speech ready. Because while I personally don't care whether you are ripped and huge, there are apparently many, many who do. And I intend to profit from it.
Welcome
In the movie Lost in Translation there is a scene in which Bill Murray's character explains that, upon having your first child, "your life as you know it is gone...never to return." The movie has been one of my favorites for years. I just wish that I had known he meant my life.
In early 2010, I gave birth to the world's most perfect child. (Is there a parent who doesn't think his/her child is the world's most perfect?) In addition to being beautiful, he is brilliant and sweet and funny and hands-down the best thing that will ever happen to me. This kid is my entire world. I had somehow suspected through most of my life that he would be, which is why I fought very hard to have him. But about the post-childbirth apocalypse, I had absolutely no clue.
To say things have changed would be misleading. EVERYTHING has changed. Most of it has been good--some not so great--but everything is without a doubt different. And now the world changes once again. My little family and I find ourselves journeying from the big city to beautiful, calm Montana. Will the change be for the better? As with anything, the answer is sometimes "yes," sometimes "no," and always sought with massive quantities of hope. Come with me as I navigate the roads from fast-paced, big-city lawyer to Montana Momhood. Is there a line that can be walked? We'll see. But I can guarantee, at a minimum, it will be an adventurous road trip....
In early 2010, I gave birth to the world's most perfect child. (Is there a parent who doesn't think his/her child is the world's most perfect?) In addition to being beautiful, he is brilliant and sweet and funny and hands-down the best thing that will ever happen to me. This kid is my entire world. I had somehow suspected through most of my life that he would be, which is why I fought very hard to have him. But about the post-childbirth apocalypse, I had absolutely no clue.
To say things have changed would be misleading. EVERYTHING has changed. Most of it has been good--some not so great--but everything is without a doubt different. And now the world changes once again. My little family and I find ourselves journeying from the big city to beautiful, calm Montana. Will the change be for the better? As with anything, the answer is sometimes "yes," sometimes "no," and always sought with massive quantities of hope. Come with me as I navigate the roads from fast-paced, big-city lawyer to Montana Momhood. Is there a line that can be walked? We'll see. But I can guarantee, at a minimum, it will be an adventurous road trip....
Friday, June 10, 2011
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