jennsylvania

Caveats, Conversation, And Conservatism

I lost seven Twitter followers on Friday when I posted these tweets:

If you send me an email with the subject line "I Read Your Shit and Now You're Going to Read Mine," rest assured, I will not. #delete

If you email me to say "What up, my bitch? Get yo' ass posting, you slacker!" and I don't know you, rest assured, I will not. #delete

If you use sad-face emoticons to complain about how I don't respond to all of your tweets and we've not met, rest assured, I will block.

Rest assured, I am also not Google, not Trip Advisor, not an ATM, not a literary agent, not a therapist, and not your mother. #delete

Finally, I will not meet "my number one fan" for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or drinks because I've seen the movie Misery. #anniewilkes

So if we're all cool with the rules now, I'm going to get back to the one thing I will do, which is try to write a book you guys will like.

For the seven people who unfollowed me during this morning's rant, please know that I'll miss the updates on what you had for lunch.

Did I crack myself up with these tweets?  Yes.  A lot. 

Did they express a certain level of frustration with a handful of people?  Yes.  A lot. 

Am I sorry I posted them?  Not even a little bit.

Would it have been more appropriate for me to use more than 140 characters to make a point?  Possibly, although I refer you back to the first point about making myself - and hopefully others - laugh.

The background is I've been getting some increasingly weird/intrusive mail lately.  I reference a little of this in an interview that was just posted with a conservative website.  I'm about to link to the interview, but before I do, I want to make it doubly clear that I discuss my conservative leanings and if this in any way bothers you, I suggest you don't click here.

Maybe these emails are simply a function of my work becoming more and more mainstream and that's a good thing.  I should really make a point of expressing more thankfulness and less 'crankfulness,' but, hi, have you read me?  Not exactly my M.O. 

Also, I find the more books I sell, the more people criticize.  Comes with the territory, I guess.  What gets me is when folks are all "You're fat!"  "You're condescending!"  "You're egomaniacal!"  "You're a narcissist!" 

Wait, what? 

I am? 

Oh, if only I'd had the self-awareness to put those terms on a book cover...  

Anyway, the mail.  I'm frustrated by the lack of respect/sense of entitlement I'm seeing more and more often.  There's a whole generation of Special Snowflakes out there who've been raised on soccer and social media and cellular communication.  If you want to talk about narcissism, I refer you to the kids who've yet to accomplish anything, but have been acting as their own ad hoc publicists for years, broadcasting messages about themselves since the minute they got their first internet connection. 

These are the ones whose letters make me a little crazy.  I would never in a million years tell a stranger, "I read your shit and now you're going to read mine," let alone someone I admire or from whom I wanted to solicit advice.  Maybe this is a bad example and she was just trying to be funny, but I'll never know because I couldn't get past the obnoxious subject line.

Take the "What up, my bitch" point.  Again, this is from a real email.  Perhaps I'm being overly sensitive about some random person trying to tell me how to do what they perceive as my job, but I ask you this - would you ever say something along those lines to someone else at work, say, a waitress?  "Get yo' ass serving me more iced tea!"  Would you ever say "What up, bitch?" to a traffic cop?  (I mean, if you weren't drunk or Tucker Max.)  It's beyond the pale.  I'm not looking for anything overly solicitous, but if the basic rules of civility were followed, I'd appreciate it. 

A few requests I've gotten lately have been mind-blowing.  One person wanted me (at my own expense) to fly across country and spend the weekend in a hotel.  Not for charity or anything, but just so I could party with her book club.  The thing is, she lives an hour away from the airport, so really, it would be best if I just rented a car, too, because picking me up would be inconvenient. 

Another complete stranger sent me her schedule of when and where she'd be in Chicago and demanded I pick from a couple of times she had available for me to come down and meet with her. 

The best one was where someone wanted a loan AND help getting published - which was key because, otherwise, how would he pay me back?

Unbefreakinglievable.

So, that's the story behind those tongue-in-cheek tweets. 

Maybe some of the Twitter followers I lost never really liked my writing in the first place and they were looking for an excuse to stomp off in a huff.  And I hope publicly complaining about how awful I am as a person and an author gave them the kind fulfilment they so desperately seek.  In which case, you're welcome, champ. 

Maybe I hurt a few Special Snowflakes' feeeeeeelings, in which case, good.  Grow a thicker skin or the world is going to eat you alive once you leave your parents' house. 

And if this is all just a logical cost of doing business, then I thank the rest of you for allowing me to be in this business.  Hearing from the 99% of you who are cool makes it all worthwhile. 

Now I'm going to go back to working my ass off on the new book in the hopes that it will make you happy.

 

Happy Three Day Weekend

Last night, before bed but after the Ambien kicked in, I thought about what Presidents Day might be like for Barack Obama.  Is it like a birthday?  Will he get presents?  And I wonder if all his friends are blowing up his BlackBerry today being all, "Happy YOUR Day!"  (If I had his number I'd totally call.) 

I hope someone had the forethought to bake him something; this seems like the kind of day that would merit a lovely cake.

If I were him, I'd probably spend the day somewhere crowded like Times Square or the Las Vegas strip, and I'd drape myself in an American flag and a stovepipe hat and I'd swill a footlong margarita, demanding all passersby, "Kiss me!  It's MY day!"

Then again, that's probably why I'm not President.

 

I'll Address This Topic Again in Four Years

Today's the first day I've had my computer up and running, connected to the internet, and properly assembled in my new office, so... hi!  Did you miss me? 

At some point during the last week when putting this room all together you'd think I'd have noticed the windows in my office are like God shining a flashlight down on the earth, but I did not.  Now in order to actually sit here at my desk and not be blinded, I have cardboard boxes shoved in the windows to block the direct rays.  I'm sure my neighbors are super-pleased and I've thus again proved you can take me out of the ghetto, but...

Anyway, what to cover first?  I've gotten too many emails to ignore the elephant in the living room so I'm breaking my own rules and talking about the election. 

In short, my team did not win. 

And in theory, I'm partially at fault because I didn't work for the campaign like I normally do.  Worse yet (although it wouldn't have mattered because I not only live in a Blue State, but also the president-elect's HOMETOWN) I didn't even get to vote.  Our move was supposed to be complete around 2:00 PM last Tuesday at which point Fletch and I were to head to the polls.  Our movers didn't get done until almost 8:00 PM.  As we were tied up at both houses the whole time, we never got a chance to leave.  Argh.

So, here's where you might think I cry and moan and rend my garments. 

Not going to happen. 

My guy lost.  I accept that.  (And watching his concession speech, I wonder if he even really wanted it in the first place.) 

Although I'm not on board with many of the coming administration's views, I'm not going to spend the next four to eight years of my life despising Obama.  I'm not going to place "presidential countdown" tickers on the side of my blog.  I'm not going to cover my car with hateful bumper stickers. 

I don't want to waste that kind of energy. 

I'm not going to disrespect the office Obama's about to hold, regardless that it's well within my rights to do so.  I'm going to do my best to support him because I believe he's a good man with honorable intentions, even if I think he's way off on stuff like taxes and the Second Amendment. 

President-elect Obama and I are not on the same page politically, but this summer we were on the same page of the NYT bestselling list.  I guarantee he and I have common ground; I just need to find it.  I plan to read his memoirs because I think it's important to connect with him.  He seems like an awfully likable guy and I'm determined to find a way to do so.    

This election reminds me of a powerful speech I heard years ago.  A quick Google search reveals nothing about who said it (maybe Bush on the campaign trail?), but the gist of it was, "They had their chance to lead; they failed."  Kind of ironic that it now applies to the side who said it first, but it's true.  My team failed.  We didn't deserve another win.   

On his show, Dennis Miller talked about taking a car service somewhere the day after the election.  His driver was telling him how he cried when he saw the results.  Miller said that even though he spent the last year rallying against an Obama presidency, he could recognize the value of having someone lead who inspires that much hope.  I can't disagree.

I'll be rooting for Obama's policies to exact the positive changes for which everyone hopes.  Now his team has the chance to lead and, for the good of this country, I want them to be successful. 

Fortunately after the past eight years, the bar hasn't been set too high.

On the other hand, I keep quietly repeating something my friend Lisa wrote in my birthday card last week... "We'd never have had a Reagan without a Carter."

So I figure whatever happens, I eventually win.

(Am closing comments the minute anyone attacks anyone else.  Be respectful to each other, please.) 

I Don't Write about Politics

But I write a lot about not writing about politics.

Yo, check it.

(How funny is it that you can see my Ollie North book and Reagan bio in the background?)

A Cup of Civility

Before you even ask, no, the new book isn't done yet. 

Sigh.

It had been due September 1st but I got my due date pushed back until the end of the month because the tour was more extensive than originally anticipated and then we had work done in our house.  Work that was supposed to take somewhere between three days and a week.  That ended up taking eight. 

Eighth weeks.

Of construction.

In my house.

While I was trying to write a book.

For which I'm not compensated 'til complete.

Even though the contractor was super nice and his work is beautiful, eight weeks is more than enough time to lose patience with anyone.  I guarantee if John-John Kennedy himself came back from the grave to install your split travertine shower tiles, after a couple of weeks you'd be all crossed arms and a tapping foot, asking, "So, when do you anticipate finally being out of here?"

Anyway, I hope to complete the manuscript in the next few weeks, so posting's going to be even more light than usual, with a 50% chance of dog pictures when I do post.  However, in the next day or so I'll put up some reading/viewing suggestions in case you have a Jennsylvania-sized gap you'd like filled.

Also?  When I'm finally done with the book, you might expect me to weigh in on the election. 

Yeah, that's not going to happen. 

You guys know what team I'm on.  I don't need to tell you in fifteen paragraphs of ten-point font.  I'm not going to take this space to spout political ideology because that's not the point of this website.  And it's offensive if you came here to read funny Fletch-in-the-kitchen stories and instead, find me prattling on about privatizing Social Security or drilling in ANWR.  I have too much respect for you to force my own conservative dogma down your throats

And no matter what I'd try to say or the facts and figures I could dredge up, the simple truth is everyone has different views because all of us come from different circumstances.  Our individual histories influence each of our unique perspectives.  For example, my friend Shayla and I have very different feelings on labor unions.  Her earliest memories are of living in a small town in Iowa where her friends' families went bankrupt when the local factory decided to shut down rather than allow a union to operate.  As for me, mine are of not seeing my dad for months at a time because he was out breaking strikes and trying to get rid of unions.  Could our perspectives shift as we got older?  Sure.  But more often than not, we're going to view some issues through our original filters. 

And you know what?  We can still have a three hour lunch together, laughing the whole time, and none of the above changes that. 

In my writing I strive to find common ground with my readers.  I address topics on which we can come together.  I'd much rather discover what puts us in the same accord than that which draws us apart.  Maybe we're not on the same page about guns or taxes, but I bet we can agree on less important stuff, like cupcakes and wine and 80's music and Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl.  (OK, that last one might just be me.) 

Whatever team you're on, I bet if you check, you'll find that your dog's feet do smell like Fritos.  I bet you love your husband.  I bet you have a great group of girlfriends.  I bet you've all cursed your neighbors when they leave their garbage cans in your driveway.  I bet you've had at least one disastrous haircut in your life.  I bet you own a certain pair of shoes that you'd have cut a bitch to possess. 

I bet if you think about it, you'll find we all have a million samenesses and just a few differences. 

But those differences don't have to prevent us from enjoying each other's company provided we have a modicum of respect for each other.

Not long ago I went to a friend of a friend's house to watch Project Runway.  There was a group of us there and we were having a fabulous time until I was outed for having voted for the Bush administration.  Even though I'd been laughing and talking with everyone for a few hours - they LIKED me - the mood in the room changed instantly.  Suddenly, I was the enemy without ever having opened my mouth about politics.  After my outing, one of the people there literally stopped talking to me for the rest of the night.  Seriously, he would not even acknowledge my presence.  And that was bullshit.

I'm deeply weary of what I'm seeing on the Internet right now, too.  I'm tired of reading blogs by members of BOTH parties saying that if you don't agree with me, if you don't see the world exactly as I do, then you're either stupid, uninformed, or just quoting sound-bites.  I'm repulsed by the notion that if your ideas don't mirror mine, then you are WRONG WRONG WRONG and now I shall sic my comments section on you so they can reiterate how wrong you are because you couldn't possibly have drawn conclusions based on your own research, on your own experiences, on your own historical filter.

Again?  That's bullshit.  We should be grilling our leaders, not grilling each other.

When did we stop having rational discourse?  And why is there suddenly such a lack of common courtesy out there?  I understand everyone's passionate about what they believe, hence so many fiery posts.  But I don't think we're accomplishing anything with all polarizing, screamingly dogmatic blog posts.  How can anyone be expected to listen or get a better perspective on other people's filters when there's so much yelling going on?   

Regardless, this website is my living room on the Internet.  You all are my guests.  So I'm not bringing politics on this site during election season because I WILL NOT allow anyone to make you feel unwelcome or uncomfortable here in my home.

And if you need to use the bathroom, it's upstairs and to the right.

Declare Yourself

Happy 19th Amendment Day!

Do me a favor - celebrate your rights by registering to vote!  (Only if you haven't already.  Which you more than likely have.  But, you know, you can double-check just in case you moved or something.)

Then you won't feel guilty when you enjoy this fine bit of Man Show parody.