Pet theory: social media became much more intense and notification-y during the years 2006 to 2016, years when liberals were used to being frustrated or angered but rarely terrified by the news. After all, we were in control of the House, the Senate, the White House or all three. Things got better and worse but rarely took a huge jump for the worse.

So being bombarded with a lot of information about the state of the world was easier to bear for a majority of those who initially liked and adopted it.

Now the habit of bombarding ourselves with maximum input has been locked in... and in the Trump era, all this extra data — meaning all these extra camera angles and echoes of the same thing — has become a curse. "Total situational awareness" of a frightening situation is not good for you.

You need sufficient awareness to assess the problem and decide what you can do about it. More than that is an express train ride to burnout or worse.

Of course I'm posting this to One Post Wonder, which shows I was thinking about this a while ago, but it was a whole lot more theoretical then.

Vince brought home a set of Marx Brothers movies, and subsequently, the books Harpo Speaks and Groucho And Me. 

As a result, a particular speech pattern has burnt itself into my brain. 

Last night while Vince and I were making dinner, I applied the formula of the first 4 Marx Brothers movies (they're all pretty much the same plot), applied it to the HBO version of Westworld, and came up with a pretty solid treatment for season 2 of Westworld, or, if I could condense it down into 45 minutes, a passable Fringe script. 

I'm not going to spend a ton of time and money on producing Marxworld. You're welcome. Maybe a podcast. I don't know. 

IN MY MIND, IT WAS BRILLIANT. Exposed to oxygen, I'm not so sure. It was one of my Ehrlich Bachman moments. 

HEY GUESS WHAT. I bought a wristwatch for the first time in this century. The photo was awful so I added a filter. 

My commute to the new job is going to suck, so I need to be able to check the time without pulling my phone out of my purse or keeping it in my pocket. Securely stow all your personal belongings, it's going to be a bumpy ride. 

Vince and I got to sit in the back yard and enjoy the fresh air this evening. It was great. Until the ATV Brigade started using the alley behind our house for practice. 

Ok. Goodnight. 

Thrym and Sassy, bold and brassy. 

Re-learning the zigzag stitch. From right to left, you can see my progress. That gum you like is gonna come back in style, Agent Cooper. 

My neighbor Madeline is the shizznit.

i came home today to find she'd gifted me a bottle of Rowhouse Spirits Nordic Aquavit, and a new Moleskine journal. It has watercolor paper. She said, "write more Jarnsaxa."

I tried half a shot of the Aquavit. It tastes like winter and revenge. And cardamom. 

Vince and I are watching The Marx Brothers' Cocoanuts. It's interesting how the dialogue is timed out for audience reaction. 

Went to the gym with Michelle (from work, not Shelle) . I might ache tomorrow. For right now, I feel like a baller. 

So often i have bought paper journals, inspired to write the words of my heart for future reflection and memorial eternal. I have a milk crate of these journals now, along with a personal moratorium on buying any such books for intended purpose. Most have one of two conditions of note:

• One viviacious entry full of bubbling enthusiasm
• No entries, blank as the day born, awaiting the proper moment to crack open the floodgates of time

It is not all in vain, however, as the inspiration came to me from the days of college creative writing, where we had to keep a small spiral book with us to write something every day. How was that so much easier then than now?

• How do you inspire yourself to write?
• What do you deem as "write-worthy?"
• To whom are you addressing in your compositions?
• How much win is this chalk drawing?

n.b. I haven't posted on 1PW for a while, I love all the enhancements I've missed, and I think I must have had my posts all private will mark them all public (all two that is #rofl)

I have eyes again, and I can breathe through both nostrils. It's amazing. 

EDITED TO ADD: A friend asked a question and I answered. Here's the long version. 

So, I was hanging out in a dorm room in high school, when I was a freshman and still a day student (at Hogwarts. You know) with a couple of other girls. One was new and from Korea. The other was a friend I'd known for a few years. 

The Korean girl filled up her electric kettle and broke out a few packets of Korean ramen noodles. She said they'd been sent in a care package from family in New York. This would have been 1984 or so, so getting food from New York was exotic enough, in the Philadelphia suburbs, let alone Korea. 

I have no idea what was in these ramen noodle packets. The wrappers were printed in Korean. Could have been anything. She mixed up some cups of ramen and we sat down to enjoy this delicious tasty snack. 

Had I poured gasoline down my throat and scraped a match across my tongue, I could not have been hotter. The noodles were spicy enough to scare Guy Fieri. Additionally, I could feel my skin crawling into redness as hives burned up my neck and into my scalp and face. 

These two girls were chowing down like they were eating Cheerios. The Korean girl, obviously, was used to this stuff. My other friend is Latina, and said a couple of times how great it is to eat something that's actually spicy for once.  Meanwhile, here I am with a couple of girls who are actually cool, who have this wider cultural experience,  and I was too embarrassed to admit that my white-girl Quaker Oats tastebuds and metabolism couldn't handle Korean ramen. I couldn't even ask for a glass of water, without looking like an idiot, and her electric kettle was dry. She didn't have a kitchen, and I think her kettle's water may have come from a jug. 

And, of course, stopping eating would have been even more rude. I kept eating, so I could be in cool boarding student culturally broad girl land. 

I don't remember how I got out of this. Maybe I went to the bathroom and stuck my face under the faucet. 

I haven't heard from the Korean girl in nearly 30 years, but my Latina friend still talks about how delicious those noodles were and how she wishes she could find them again. 

So, I'm a burner. I'm not a rabid burner, but I've been to burning man 4 times, go to regional events, plan to go to more of both in the future.

The Hilton is opening a swank downtown property in Norfolk Virginia called "The Main". It's preopening weekend this weekend, where tickets are $1600 a pair.  Apparently the governor will be there. There are bands booked, some Broadway singer will entertain, multitude of musical groups, visual art from some of the area's best galleries and museums.

Somehow, the Norfolk Hermitage Museum & Gardens decided they wanted to bring burning man art to the event.

Last time I went to burning man (2014), I was part of a large art project out of Washington DC (Pyramid of Possibilities). One of the guys on the project was Wolf. He was so inspired that the following year he went balls to the wall and led the creation of several art pieces for that thing in the desert. It was a carnival theme that year; Wolf and team created pieces for what he termed Hall of Mirrors Arcade. Included in that was a giant Pachinko machine. 

Wolf shipped the giant Pachinko to burning man, then back to DC. And then, a few months back, he decided to move to the west coast. He was on the verge of tossing the Pachinko - "As I will be moving very soon, ALL assets of this art project must be disposed of, and by mid-December. If a new home is not found by then, it will simply be TOSSED IN A DUMPSTER. I'm not kidding" -  so I connected him with someone who would take if off his hands. Her name is Tracy, thought she sometimes goes by Squirr Lee and she's also a burner.

So the Hermitage has decided to bring burning man art to this swank Norfolk event, reached out and connected with Tracy. Who agreed to bring the giant pachinko to this swank event. And then Tracy asked for help at the event - tos setup/breakdown/man the "exhibit"- so I'm going, as is another burner named John. (plus a non-burner or two)

So yay, I get to represent burningman to people who think $1600 for a weekend isn't crazy. People who hob-nob with Governors (and not like Delaware governors - cause that's no biggie. I mean governors from a sizable state.). Burningman that goes on about radical self reliance and decommodification and participation.  I get to stand in front of (atop?) a giant dusty Pachinko and play carnival barker.  And emissary I guess, being one of 3 burners in the mix.

I feel so much like the shark has been jumped. 

I wonder if they will supply a bullhorn. And/or champagne.

I wonder if I should wear my "Got Balls" t-shirt. 

What's the criteria for hipsterdom? 

Vince and I went to our favorite pho place for dinner tonight. Toward the end of our meal, a young couple came in with their toddler daughter. They told the waiter they'd never had pho before. The woman said she hoped it had noodles. They were sitting behind me, so I couldn't see them. Later Vince referred to them as "that hipster couple." I scoffed and said we were way more hipster than they are. 

He said, "I don't know, the guy had a beard, funky glasses and an old man sweater, and she had tattoo sleeves." 

I said, "You're a musician, I'm a playwright, we have a podcast, and our dog is named after someone who tried to kill a sitting President. We're way more hipster." 

But now I wonder, what construes being a hipster after age 40? 

PS., I don't really think we're hipsters. 

Hi all!

We've been up at my folks' place since Sunday. We were eating dinner and I got a text from my dad that he had to call an ambulance to bring him to the hospital because he blew out his knee and couldn't put even a toe's worth of weight on his right leg.  I called him and he was TERRIFIED, and absolutely convinced this was "the fall," meaning the injury an old person has in their late 70s that begins the rapid decline to death.  I kept trying to tell him not to order the headstone quite yet, but he was really, really upset. By the time he got out of the ER and back home it was 11:30PM, so we all agreed Matt and I would get up to NJ on Monday (the 13th).

So, apart from snowcamming (which is now over), I have been almost entirely offline since we've been up here. I haven't read OPW or LJ; I've done maybe 10 mins max on Instagram and Twitter.  I'm sorry I haven't been more responsive.

So yep, we're still up at my folks' place taking care of them since my dad blew his knee out on Sunday.  Strangely, Mom seems to be doing MUCH better. I'm thinking with my Dad down for the count, Mom realizes she needs to step it up a bit, and she has! She isn't nearly as forgetful.  Maybe the extra responsibility is good for her.

Since we've been here, we let my folks handle their own breakfast as a test to see how their mobility is for the day... but then we wind up handling lunch and dinner plus all chores (laundry, cleaning Mom's bedroom commode, cleaning/prepping her CPAP, meal prep and serving/cleanup, shopping, snow removal, med checks, laundry, washing the kitchen floor, cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms, etc.)

Yesterday (Thursday) I took my dad to the orthopedist to figure out what's broken on him and what the prognosis/path forward is.  Diagnosis: Torn meniscus, but luckily it's not an entirely fucked meniscus. It should heal with some PT and TLC in a few weeks... he's already markedly better yesterday than he was on Monday when we arrived, but he absolutely still needs a walker, which means he can't carry anything.  My mom can't carry anything either... so the small "care-related tasks" like dumping and cleaning my mom's bedside commode is impossible for either of them to do... let alone carrying food to the table. So as much as we want to get home and get our lives back, we need some kind of plan to have these small tasks handled. I cannot rely on my brother or sister-in-law, which is sometimes frustrating but understandable. My parents' neighbors have offered to help out, but cleaning a chunky pee-filled commode isn't something you ask a neighbor to do... that's a family job. (Sorry for that visual.)

Matt has been so good anxiety-wise lately... the CBD + Xanax combo has been working miracles. However, yesterday was a Very Bad Day and a reminder that he is not "cured," and a reminder he mustn't get cocky and not take his meds.  Caring for my mom, caring for my dad, and caring for plus worrying about Matt yesterday made me wonder how people with kids care for several people every day of their lives with no break whatsoever. I was wiped out. 

My parents have been very kind and appreciative this visit, and they keep telling me how truly grateful they are that we're up here and able/willing to help.  I'm very happy to have been up here, too.  In the evenings once we're done with dinner and all of our tasks are done, my dad and I (and sometimes Matt)  wind down by binge-watching Nurse Jackie.  I've been enjoying it. When I asked him why he chose that show as opposed to the other million things on Netflix, cable, Amazon, etc., he said, "I like Edie Falco, and I wanted to watch something without explosions for a change."  My dad? Watching something without fast cars or explosions? WEIRD. :-D

Selfishly, I'm also happy to have ridden out the storm up here with my folks because Delaware got a ton of ice and apparently Arden and north Wilmington lost power for a good long while... parts of which didn't get power back until yesterday (Thursday) with crews from North Carolina helping out the local power company workers. I know our house lost power at some point (even if just for a moment) because I tried remoting into my home computer yesterday and couldn't, which tells me it turned off unceremoniously. (My computer stays off if the power gets cut.)  So I have no way to know if we'll come home to a freezer full of warm, stinky food or what. (Though Joe Trainor just stopped by our house a few minutes ago to return a soprano sax we rented for the sold-out Billy Joel show we did on Saturday night down at the beach, and he was able to use the garage door OK, so the power's onbviously on now.)

Today is Friday, and I'm not sure when we're going back to DE. We really wanted to go to a concert on Saturday (tomorrow) night, and Matt has a final rehearsal on Sunday afternoon for an Able Arts skit they've asked him to be a part of for their show next week.  We may just go home for the weekend and come right back up here.

It's actually been pretty OK being up here. I feel very appreciated and useful. 

Anyway, I promise to be more present online when I can. I'm sorry that I can't be a better or more responsive friend now... right now I need to keep focusing on being a good daughter and a good partner. 

Love you all.

I taught from Monday through Thursday (today) at Wharton Business School (at Penn) this week. It felt good to get back in the saddle.  It's Penn's spring break this week, so we were able to snag one of the really nice classrooms in the basement of Vance Hall, which is on the corner of 38th and Spruce.  There is no cell signal in that there basement, so if you need to send/receive a text you have to go into the stairwell that leads outside so you can pick up just enough signal to send/receive a few characters.  Plus, I'm not on their WiFi/network, so I really am cut off from the world from 7:50am - 4:30pm. (I should add that by the time I get home from teaching all day, I am 100000% out of spoons, so I don't even get online, really. I'll check my work email via my phone, and that's all I got. LJ/OPW/Twitter/Instagram? Nosiree.)

Anyway, the last time I taught at Wharton, I had Delaware Express Shuttle drive me to and from Penn every day... but at $130 EACH WAY (yes, really... $260/day x 4 days, that's over $1000 just to get to and from work each day.  Granted, it also involves the least amount of hassle, and since Wharton is paying a pretty penny for this training, I didn't really feel all that bad about spending that money (crazy as it sounds).  

So, this time around I decided to take SEPTA for the first time in my 18 years of living in Delaware.  So I had Delaware Express drive me TO Penn in the morning, and in the afternoons I would walk to the University City station and ride SEPTA to Claymont for $6.50.  Much better than $130.

Yesterday (Wednesday) the train schedule was such that by the time I ended class, I'd have to wait over an hour before my train would leave, and I wouldn't be home until 5:45pm. We had a Billy Joel tribute band rehearsal last night, and I desperately wanted to take a nap between teaching and rehearsal, but I knew I wouldn't be able to fit a nap in if I took the train.

Anyway, after class yesterday I grabbed my backpack and walked down Spruce St. towards the University City train station, and I'm weighing the pros and cons of taking the train as planned for $6.50 (even though the train didn't leave Philly for a good 75 minutes. I also considered calling an Uber to see if they would just drive me home thanks to the miracle of credit cards... and then I decided, "Screw it. I'll take a cab, then. I wanna get home, I wanna lose this heavy backpack, I wanna take a nap... but most importantly, I wanna see my guy."  As my eyeballs scanned Spruce Street for a cab without passengers, a car beeps next to me... and it's a green Mini Cooper with Matt behind the wheel!  Apparently he had texted me 7238 times asking if I'd like a ride home (messages I never received due to the location of my classroom); and when he didn't receive a response, he decided "Screw it.  I'm gonna go get her."   What makes it nuttier is that Matt doesn't 'normally' drive up South Street / Spruce Street to get to Wharton (the whole ONE other time he's been to Wharton), and instead he'd normally take some weird back streets... but something made him take Spruce, and we like to psychically believe it's because he somehow "knew" that I would be walking down that road at that time.  So I jumped in his car.  We kept saying, "Oh my god! This is so crazy! What are the chances I'd be walking on this street at the same time you decided to drive up it?"  Boom!

As if that wasn't amazing enough, today I finished up my class and a few students wanted to hang out and chat, so I did... all while covertly keeping an eye on the clock because I didn't want to miss my noon train... which I did.  No worries though... after I said goodbye to the students, I gathered my stuff and walked out of the building, and onto Spruce Street... and suddenly Bobbi Block is standing in front of me, fresh off the plane from New Zealand, and we are staring at each other, totally baffled and excited and giggling to be seeing each other so randomly and unexpectedly (not to mention out of context).  We kept saying "Oh my god! This is crazy! What are the chances of us walking this way right now?"

I love when cool stuff like that happens.