Metablogging: Maybe we are all egomaniacs...

and if we were, or, if I were, I would not be sitting here at 6 am worried about my being an egomaniac and what all this blogging and twittering and facebooking says about me as an individual.

Is it not enough to live an anonymous life? Or, Why is it not enough to live an anonymous life?

I asked myself guiltily.

What does this say about me? Does this mean I am so ill content in my own personal, real, life that I need to create a separate persona for myself in the cyber space? What kind of wuss am I that I cannot do something about my "real" life?

Doesn't "We Are All Egomaniacs" have a nice ring to it? Nice name for an alt. rock band?

Here is what the venerable (or at least expensive) Forrester Research has to say about Microblogs, i.e. Twitter and its like:

"The current darlings of media attention, microblogs appeal to both the egocentrism and the voyeurism of Web 2.0 aficionados."

From Oliver Young's research article on Enterprise Web 2.0 (published in November 2008)

Mr. Young is a fine researcher with a good head on his shoulder, let me preface by saying this. The irony of his comment on microblogging is that, and I suspect that he himself has sensed the irony, he is on Twitter (with 337 followers and not all of them are friends or FOAF).

Today is the day: Inaugration of President Obama, yet, I am not feeling the fever. What's wrong with me?

I am a liberal alright and a staunch Obama supporter. In fact, I am proud of the fact that I "called it" in 2004 before Obama gave that fateful speech at the Democratic Convention that launched him into the national spotlight. (And what's more, he wrote it himself!) I called it even before that: I saw him on TV being interviewed for something, and I told my husband, this guy could run for the president one day and I would vote for him. After the 2004 Dem Convention speech, I was utterly convinced that he has what it takes to be the POTUS and I anxiously waited for someone, someone that mattered to make this official.


I still tell my husband, "I called it before anybody else did!" from time to time, and it annoys him to no end since, of course, it cannot be true that I was the very first one to see this coming...

I was guessing 2012, but it came 4 years earlier to my excitement. At the same time, I was worried that the timing was off, and the country might not be ready for someone so young, and this might ruin his chance forever. (Not ready NOT because he's black but because he is young, relatively "inexperience" - I already predicted that the country would be ready for an African American man to lead them before a woman... but that's for an entire different post later)

During the election, I constantly had panic attacks that we were going to lose again, and be under the GOP thumb for another 4 years. I joked, "kidding on the square", with my husband that we should consider moving to Canada, as we did 4 years ago when Bush won again. On November 4, 2008, I was so happy that my worry was unfounded. He won. WE won!

I admire Obama very much and would like nothing more than the opportunity of speaking to him in person, or even just shaking his hand, like the rest of the nation, judging by the blogs, Facebook updates, Twitter followings, even the news media that lavish praise after praise upon him. He has made so many speeches that brought tears to my eyes. He is able to get in touch with many on a very personal level. I have posted tribute to him myself as well.

I admire Michelle Obama as well, on so many different levels, esp. her being an intelligent person, and a working mother to boot. Like her husband, many have responded to her on a very personal level as well. They are truly an inspiration to the "regular" Americans since as far as I can tell, they have absolutely no ties to any big political names, not the nephew or niece of so-and-so. And for African American women, her being the First Lady has begun to carry so many symbolic meanings, and many of them have been materialized in the new book Go Tell Michelle.

Oh, I have felt the fever alright. During the election.

But I woke up early this morning, at 2:46 am to be exact, feeling a panic attack, because I am not feeling the excitement that the news media has shown us, the screaming fans and all. Don't get me wrong, I am happy. But it feels like, all of a sudden, at a party where everybody is screaming and laughing and drunk with youthful abandon, and well, partying, I am standing in the midst of all this, sober.

I can understand the significance of this event for many people, a significance much much deeper than the face value of a Presidential Inauguration - He IS the first African American to be elected the President of the United States. I cannot begin to imagine the significance of this event on the psyche of African Americans. This is truly a watershed moment that can potentially change the lives of so many, not just in the US, but around the world. The policies he will make, the changes he will carry out (or at least try his darnedest), the wrongs that he will correct (starting with banning waterboarding outright!), the people that he, as the first Black U.S. President, and Michelle, as the first Black First Lady, will inspire, again, not just in this country but all around the world.

But I am not feeling the screaming fan blind adoration bestowed on him as if he were a rock star or a movie star chosen as Sexist Man Alive. Maybe that's my problem. This man has a wife, and two young daughters. And he is going to be OUR President for the next four years. To be honest, I am not cool with screaming female fans treating him like some sort of sex symbol. (Call me a prude... I am never one to fall for a celebrity so maybe that's why I am such a party pooper at this moment). Calling him Obama-daddy trivialized the election of an intelligent capable man who just wants to do the right thing and inspire others to do the same. Selling thongs with his image on it and words "Sleep with Obama" is disrespectful to his wife, not to mention anything else.

Yes, I do have a sense of humor. I found the Obama Girl funny, during the election. But now we have reached our goal and elected the man, hmmm, don't you think it is time to let it go? Last time I checked, this here is the United States, not France....

There lies my problem: I am not seeing him as a celebrity, commanding my unquestioned adoration.

This man is human. He is not Superman.

It is 4:30 am, on the day of the historical Presidential Inauguration of Barack Obama who I voted for and wanted for president since before 2004, I am completely sober, much to my liberal chagrin, in the midst of youthful obsession that turns anyone into a Hollywood-style "celebrity".

My cure? Psyching myself up by shopping for the commemorative items on the official PIC2009 website. Get them before they are gone! If I am not feeling the party, at least I can fake it!

The trend continues: the hat stays. And I am inspired!

And it is not just a hat, nor is it a cowboy hat. It is a FEDORA.

My 5 yo got a wool fedora for his upcoming 6th birthday. He has been wearing that hat ever since. People would comment on how cute he is, esp. when he tips his hat slightly, and say, "How'd you do, Ma'am?"

This disturbs my 10-year-old who at this young age, unfortunately, has known first hand how ruthless schoolyard (or rather, bus stop) teasing can be. He has also learned that you really do not want to stand out, "blending in" is the smartest thing to do. (At 10?? What happened to my ham?? And I thought conformity is looked down in the USA! Seriously, the American culture and mentality sometimes is a mythical paradox to me...) So he tried to tell his younger brother that people might think he's different and would make fun of him for it.

Here comes my diatribe of the day:

Ok, let me ask again: When does being different become a negative in this great country of ours?

(Ok, never mind. This is a rhetoric question... more or less).

But what happened to creativity and imagination? So it is ok if it happens in the movies, on paper, on the stage, in the office (i.e. "Think outside the box"), but not encouraged in the suburbs?

Standard response from my youngest? "I don't care!" and "I think I look very handsome in this!"

Bravo to him for being so gutsy! Mama is very proud for his courage to be different.

But at the same time, I cannot help but wonder how long this unbridled unabashedness will last. They all grow up so fast, and part of growing up seems to mean losing part of yourself as you get older... Should I feel guilty also for letting him be himself? For indulging him even since I was the one who bought the fedora, naturally. And I am sure my kids could sense since a young age how abhorrent I am of "mediocrity".

I actually told my kids that the greatest wisdom I hope to ever teach them is "Be thyself."

I must be nuts...

Mom redeemed herself from being the Worst Mom of the Year...

... by dumpster diving for child's missing homework!

Thank goodness they are not perfect...

Questions I ask myself every day (No.1)

Just because I am aware of my inadequacy as a mother, I am able to make fun of myself and I give myself the title "Bad Mommy of the Year", does it absolve me for doing a bad job bringing up my children?

If I call myself out as a criminal, does it make my crime less appalling?

By calling myself a Bad Mommy, does it make me superior to women who are unaware of what a bad job they are doing or frankly don't care?

By calling myself names, does it necessarily mean that I care? Or is my need to call myself names a desperate attempt to prove to myself and the others that I actually do care even though it may seem that I don't?

And I want to make it clear: when I call myself "Bad Mommy" or "Worst Mother of the Year" it is definitely not a "Backdoor Brag" like the "Worst Mother of the Year" in this essay. (This mom certainly reads like a dream mom to me, and I am sure that she knows it and is proud of it even: "I am such a great mother with strong convictions that I do not succumb to my children's whining and blackmailing!") I really really mean it and I live with regret and fear every day...

Overheard at my house (Episode 1)

Scene: after mommy serves them breakfast (oatmeal) with loud bang on the table and great indignation and runs upstairs to take her 1-minute shower before they have to rush to their first activity on a Sunday morning...

5-year-old boy: I wish mommy is less mean. Do you wish mommy is less mean, Older Brother?

10-year-old boy: Ya.

5-year-old boy: I wish daddy is nicer too and does not yell so much. Do you wish mommy and daddy are nicer?

10-year-old boy: Ya...

(Two brothers have a rare moment of peace and camaraderie)

(Bad Mom upstairs has to brace herself to prevent an emotional outburst and hits Sleeping Dad with the pillow)

(Two brothers break out in an argument over some trivial matter)

Bad Mom: (Forgetting temporarily her vow to be a less mean and nicer mother and screaming at the top of her lung) STOP IT THE TWO OF YOU AND HURRY UP BEFORE I COME DOWNSTAIRS!!!!!!!