You Know That When the Instructor Plays "Highway to Hell" During the Hardest Part of the Spin Class It's a Bad Omen--or, does Facebook really make us more witty?

I know for a fact that the internet has changed the way that we communicate; all you have to do is look at everyone staring at their phones all the time, updating their statuses on Facebook, Twitter, etc.; pinning stuff on Pinterest, watching Grumpy Cat videos, and making their lives complete by finding out exactly what sort of stupidity people who are famous for no apparent reason are up to now.  What I am interested in, though, is whether or not it's changed the way we think.  Has the internet--and Facebook in particular--changed the way our brains function?  I would argue that it has.  

I've been trying to decide what my feelings are about social media, and I've decided that I have a very fundamental beef with with most of it.  It's so exhibitionist!  OK, I am a very lucky person.  I am living in a beautiful place, my son is in the sort of school that I wish all children could attend, I don't have to work my butt off to survive, and I have the time and energy to do many things that I like to do, rather than only what I HAVE to do.  And have I mentioned that (I believe) that my son is the most beautiful child in the world?  He's also the funniest, the smartest, and I might be the best mom ever.  OK, so that last bit about me is probably not true, but I do believe the rest of it.  Now, does anyone who happens to see my Facebook page REALLY want to know all that?  And do they want to know that in many different forms?

I guess what I am saying is that I question what we are doing when we post online.  On the one hand, when I am traveling or doing something else that might be interesting to other people, then I think that social media is a great platform.  There is the off chance that someone might want to see my pictures of places that everyone is not lucky enough to be able to get to, so maybe I am making someone happy in that way.  Once in a while I'll see funny things and think that maybe other people might think they are funny too, so I'll share.  But most of the time I wonder whether people really don't have something else they could be doing rather than reading my ruminations.

Remember when you were a stressed-out teenager and you were worrying about what you would say when you ran into the guy--or the girl--you liked in the hall? Do you remember trying out different comments in your head and imagining the reaction?  I hope so, because I would hate to think that I am the only one who did that.  I think that most people tend to stop doing that regularly once they are out of their teens.  I haven't done it in quite a while, though, until this morning.

Or maybe I have done it but have not been conscious of it?  I'm not sure, really, but I do remember huffing and puffing away on the stationary bike--hoping it was about time to quit (without my glasses on I couldn't see the clock)--this morning when the instructor got off her bike, went over to the stereo, and started AC/DC's "Highway to Hell."  I immediately thought of the title of this post, envisioning posting it somewhere.  Here, I thought, is the revival of my blog, leading to other people's thoughts and comments, and everyone realizing that I am not doing nothing; in fact, I am working!  I'm just not getting paid for it (she says, in very small letters).

So then, have Facebook and other social networking sites changed the way we think of ourselves, and, by extension, the way we present ourselves to others?  I realize that I am a bit late to this party, but one of the things I have been musing about in my private journal for a while now is the this question of why we post the things we do on social networking sites.  On the one hand, of course we want other people--people who may be far away but who are nonetheless important to us, for example--to know how we are and what we are doing, but on the other hand, aren't we carefully crafting our self-images?  Don't we post pictures of our latest projects, cute kid videos, our dogs asleep, etc. at least partly to see what the reaction from other people will be?  Don't we want some sort of validation, whether it's for our hard work, our no-doubt superior parenting skills, beautifully groomed and intelligent pets, or simply for the fact that we've made it through another day?

Yes, I believe is the answer.  So then the question becomes, so what?  Why should we care?  What is the significance of this realization?  I, like many others, would argue that the significance of this epiphany is that we are becoming more selfish, more narcissistic.  I don't like to admit that about myself, especially because I do try to be unselfish.  I also hate admitting that I am not sure what to do about it, especially because I've had so much fun writing this and can't wait to post it!

It's Football Season in the US--and you know what that means!

Actually, you don't.  You don't because you are not in my bedroom on Monday and Tuesday mornings.  And that's OK.  In any case, what (American) football season means here in Lagos is that as soon as he wakes up on Monday and Tuesday mornings, Max (aged 8) checks the football scores on my iPod.  Max wanted "NFL Mobile" on there, so there it is.  I am still not used to NFL scores popping up every so often!  The quickest way to wake Max up in the morning is to tell him that Frank is going to check the scores without him.  First, they have to check the Packers and the Saints, then they see who else has played and who has a bye, and then they get into the real meat of the morning.  The usual discussion ensues:  what each team's prospects for the rest of the season might be, how they will/have fared against their future (or past) opponents, and what would happen if some sort of unanticipated random match up were to occur.  All this is punctuated by videos of the weekend's highlights and, if I ask, they will tell me whether or not I actually care what happened (if they are happy I'm happy; otherwise I really don't care):  I am perfectly happy that my opinions on these matters be dictated by the men in my life.

This routine got me thinking, though, about why so many women don't care much about football, which made me remember that I once taught an essay in a writing class called "Spandex Nation." It was written by someone whose name I can't remember (maybe Hilda Gonfor[?]--I am quite sure it was Hilda Someone because I thought at the time that Hilda is a very uncommon name.  If anyone knows, please let me know!  Now of course I have no idea what her essay has to do with American football, but it sparked this tribute from me at the time:

Homage to “Spandex Nation”

It’s time to take the issue of men and football out of the realm of cocktail conversation among women and hold it up to the light.  For years now, women have been frustrated in their attempts to understand American football.  Note, please, that I am not saying that women can’t understand it; I am a woman myself and I flatter myself that I am not stupid.  However, I don’t understand why, after years of boredom and frustration I finally understand only two important football concepts:  first, I understand what the four downs are and why they are important, and second, I understand that when a team switches from offense to defense, an entirely new set of players takes the field.  This fact, incidentally, is part of the reason that football teams (I am not including their staffs and hangers-on here) are so colossally large.

Now, let’s compare my experience with that of my husband, father, brother, and various ex-boyfriends.  My brother was watching football (knowledgeably) with my father when he was 5 years old.  My husband was born in Germany but moved to Wisconsin when he was four, so he understood the intricacies of the Packers’ playbook as soon as he learned English.  I've never really discussed the rules of football with my dad (an orthopedic surgeon), but I do remember it seemed like every time someone got injured he could diagnose how serious it was from the couch.  It's very disconcerting to hear, "Looks like he's out for the season" on what looked to me a pretty routine play.

When I was in my 20s I dated a guy who had only been in this country for four years.  He was one of the most opinionated and knowledgeable fans out there.  I asked him once how long it had taken him to understand the game and he told me that he understood the rules after watching only one or two games.    It seemed perfectly intuitive to him.  My son, who is now 8, has been telling me (accurately, apparently) whether or not I have an opinion on a particular game for years now.

The only possible answer has to be chromosomal.  When someone is born with a Y chromosome, the ability to intuitively understand American football is attached to one of the genes on it.  Since the human genome has not yet been mapped in its entirety, we don’t know which gene that is, but it does appear to mean that, due to our lack of this gene, women who want to understand football often must put in hours of painstaking and time-consuming work.   So the next time you watch a football game and think of the women reporting from the field as simple tokens to fill a quota, remember that they have probably put more time into training for their jobs than the players on the field, and they’ve certainly put in more time than their male counterparts.  Let’s have some respect for these highly qualified individuals because they have to want it more or they wouldn’t bother.