Posts Tagged ‘psychology’

Stop Networking Me!

July 2, 2009

Sometimes I want to be anonymous.
I don’t want to be found on LinkedIn, Facebook, MySpace, or
Twitter.
I don’t want that guy I never liked in high school
Sending me a friend request.
I don’t want that woman I worked with when I was 23,
Who probably remembers the times I screwed up in work,
And that I got fired;
I definitely don’t want her as part of my
Network.
There’s a reason I moved on with my life,
And didn’t stay in touch with some of these people.
I thought I was done with them
Forever,
But now they’re looking me up on social networks.
Friending me.
How can I turn them down?
What should I say?
“Sorry, I never really liked you
In high school, because
You gave me that embarrassing nickname that I hated.”
Or, “Sorry, you must have forgotten that I had a
Shouting match with you in the office
Twenty years ago,
And I always suspected you got me
Fired.
So, no thanks, I don’t want to be your friend now.”
I’d rather present a different face to the world,
And list my many accomplishments, triumphs, and
Awards (even if I’m a little hazy about some of them).
I’m looking for a different network;
I’m looking for a different me.
I’d rather not chat about old times,
Because it’s old times I’m trying to forget.
Didn’t you see my profile picture?
I’m more distinguished now,
Somehow more, oh, professional.
That person you want to connect to
Is in a different network.
The stuck-in-a-time-warp network.
I’m not part of that anymore.
I hope.

Advertisements

When Will The Robots Arrive?

June 9, 2009

When will the robots arrive?
We’ve all been waiting so long for the robots to arrive.
They’re so efficient, so precise, there are no temper tantrums with a robot.
No, “I’ve got a headache”.
No, “The way you eat your cereal makes me crazy”.
No, “I’ve always hated your friends”.
Imagine, someone living in the same house as you, but
they never tell you they’ve heard your stories before.
They look at you with those wide robot eyes and there’s absolutely no shred of
disappointment in them,
or sadness,
or contempt.
They seem interested in everything about you.
You are the most fascinating person in the universe.
You are subject to moods, of course, but the robot factors that in.
The robot pays no attention to your moods.
The robot understands that you are an emotional human, and it is to be expected that
you will say and do completely illogical things.
The robot understands the algorithm for that.
The one that says humans will every once in awhile go crazy.
Some of us will want to be robots, be part of that clean, precise universe
where there is no randomness,
no yawning emptiness,
no fear, no tears, no grief.
It is such a lovely way to live, isn’t it?
Some of us will long for that, in our ham-handed human way.
The robots will understand that, and will take into account that we’re being human
and stupid, of course.
They will understand that we can never be like them,
even if we don’t understand.
They will clean up after us, pull the sheets tight when they make our beds, straighten the room after we’ve broken some plates in a frenzy of lust, or rage.
They will be there always, ever ready to make things right again.
And neat, very neat.
We might imagine them shaking their heads,
perhaps with a certain tilt of the head
as if to say, “look at these ridiculous humans,
how did they ever get to this point;
how did they ever build empires, probe the heavens, unlock the secrets of the universe?
How did they ever build us?”
But then again, that would be irony.
And irony is impossible for robots.
Which is another reason why we’ll love them.
They’ll be the most wonderful machines,
And our lives will never be the same.
Some of us will grow fond of the robots,
Adopting them as members of our family,
Giving them nicknames, like “Binky” and “Toots”.
Putting bunny ears on them,
Or aprons.
The robots won’t care.
They’ll just keep doing their jobs,
immune to the drama,
while each of us leads our
comic
and poignant.
magical
and messy,
fabulous
human life.

I’m Indebted To You

May 1, 2009

Here’s another phone call with another fabulous offer
of a credit card, a low-interest mortgage,
a sumptuous vacation home,
or perhaps a brand-spanking-new car.
Sometimes it’s a well-known celebrity
Who’s taken the time to record a message
just for me,
about how absolutely critical it is for me to vote against
this or that.
I am flattered to receive so many calls.
I feel so important, that so many people want to
offer me so many valuable things,
or get my opinion on some essential issue
by answering a few simple and brief questions.
I try to be polite and listen to them all
without interrupting.
It’s such a lovely life they’re proffering, and of course,
who wouldn’t want to live in a gorgeous home and wear designer clothing and
drive a sexy car and
have scads and scads of money?
And talk on the phone with Sean Penn or Madonna?
But, there’s just one small thing. . .
I tried out that lifestyle already, you see;
and I’m hung over,
broke
and deflated;
so I won’t be needing any more
shiny new
fairy tales
today.

A Man Of Many Interests

April 23, 2009


By John McDonnell

I’m a dabbler at heart, you see,
and there’s plenty more to me
than meets the eye.
But then you know I
never said I was a simple chap.
You can’t put me in that trap.
Subtle, that’s me, and complicated.
Not loud, a bit understated.
Preferring not to be a star,
or the loudest voice at the bar,
I’m happiest in the back,
not in front of the pack.
I get distracted easily, my mind wanders;
there’s always some other question to ponder.
My reality abounds in
complexity.
I know I should settle down and focus;
establish a locus
for my interests.
But every time I try
something bright catches my eye,
and I wander off, wasting time
on some new project without rhyme
or reason.
There’s so much to learn, I’ve always felt,
so much living to do as well.
Each day should be an adventure,
otherwise you’re just an indentured
servant, hemmed in by your
small horizons.
Tomorrow’s another day and
no way I’m going to get distracted
from my goal. I’ll attack the
day with vigor, discipline and
rigor;
at least until a bigger
shinier something comes along and
catches my I.