the lmh defriending method

It seems laughable now, but when Facebook first became a "thing" I wasn't going to join.  Quick cut to the end of the first week of college, and I'd already given in and joined.  Don't judge! -- I've never claimed to be a non-conformist.  So there I was on The 'Book, looking up my high school and adding every person I'd ever talked to or had a class with in high school, and rapidly adding my new college friends.  And random people I meet at bars.  And classmates that I need to work on group projects with.  And random people I meet on trains in Chicago on St. Patrick's Day.    And friend's significant others.  And the lifeguard at the Vegas pool. I've been doing a lot of friending since August 1, 2005  (Fun fact: timeline can tell you when you joined!), but --with the exception of ex-boyfriends--not a lot of defriending.  

It never really bothered me to have absurd amounts of "friends" on Facebook, because it's occasionally fun to look up random people from high school and see how they're doing.  The thing is, I never stopped to think that people might be doing that to me.  And then recently, I got a notification that I had been "poked."  Shocked and confused  that someone was poking me in 2012, I was also a little weirded out when I saw it was from a creep-a-licious kid (now married) who I had never really spoken to, even when he was in my AP Calc class in high school.  I promptly defriended him, and got to thinking about who I should be allowing in my social network. 

I didn't come up with any hard and fast guidelines as to who should be included, but I determined that one should NOT be my friend if:

1. I hate his or her guts.
2. I can't figure out who the person is after looking through a couple of profile pictures.
3. I can't remember his or her real last name.
4. I haven't had any interaction--in person, or on the internet, however small it may be-- with the person that I can remember (I assume that my memory is good for 18-24 months).

I opened up my friend list and started to go at it, but it was a huge hassle, and I only made it halfway through the As.  And that's when I devised the perfect solution:  I defriend people on their birthdays. 

Every day, someone has a birthday, and I get a Birthday notification at the top of my homepage.  I click on it, wish my friends a happy birthday, and defriend anyone who falls into one of the 4 categories above.    It may seem harsh to pull the plug on someone's birthday, but I've been doing this for a couple months and no one's said anything yet.  I figure that even someone who checks every day to make sure their number of friends hasn't changed isn't going to do it on their birthday, when they're getting blown up with hundreds of wall posts.  And if they do happen to notice that someone went missing, it's their birthday and there are hundreds of more fun things to obsess over.  I figure that in a year's time, I'll have made it through my whole friend list, but without the hassle of doing it all in one day.  So there you have it --Easy, clean defriending without a huge time commitment.  

Want to avoid being defriended by me?  Like a status or two, message me, hang out with me, or exploit the loophole and have your birthday on Saturday or Sunday this year... I don't clean house on weekends! 

resolutions

It's that time of year when the gym is packed, Lean Cuisines are on sale, and everyone's talking resolutions--except me.  (Until now.)  You see, I don't really buy into the whole New Years resolution thing.  For starters, in the navel-gazing world of Lindsey Marie, the year starts on my birthday.  August 13.  In my crazy head, it has always made more sense to track my mile markers relative to my age, not the calendar year.  In the past when I've tried to do New Years resolutions, they just haven't stuck.  I've chosen either completely arbitrary goals (you should ask to see my journal entry every day from 2010), or completely unreasonable goals (still waiting to walk on the moon).  There's also the obvious reason not to make resolutions-- I'm perfect and there's nothing to fix.

KIDDING!  The truth is, while I'm not perfect, I really don't hate myself.  And in the words of my darling sister Kiwi regarding New Years resolutions, "I like myself.  And if I don't, I fix it.  Immediately."  I don't need to wait around for January 1 to make a list of things to work on.  I already have one, and it's in a state of constant growth and modification.  This is what I'm working on right now (in no particular order of importance):

• Be on time for things.
• Be better to my body.  Wear sunscreen, drink less, eat healthier, sweat once a day.
• Save more money.
• Get a passport.
• Write more, whether I post it on the internet or not.
• Be more even-tempered.
• Run faster.  
• Stop trying to lose the imaginary 3 pounds and accept and love myself.
• Be a better sister/daughter/friend/lover.
• Tell the truth.
• Do the things I don't want to do, especially when I'm not in the mood to do them.

Before I got uber-serious on you with this little list of mine (such a buzz kill, oops), the point where I was headed toward?  My only resolution for 2013 is to work on my list for all of the 365 days of the year.  And to anyone who has New Years Resolutions, I hope they stick.  Self-improvement for all! 








PS:  I kind of changed my blog title.  Let's just call this what it really is.  :)

if the world should end

The Mayan Apocalypse.  12-21-12.  Yikes!  The general consensus is that it's not happening, but that hasn't stopped people from stalking the mountain tops in France waiting for the UFOs to rescue them, buying candles en masse, and scheduling End of the World parties.  I'm basically a non-believer, but this awful rainstorm we're getting in the Ace Deuce right now has me ever so slightly worried, just in case that movie 2012 was right and we DO need to be piling onto the arks...which are in China.  Since I'm obviously not making it over there in time, I've got less than a day to start living to the fullest.  Here's my Last Day On Earth List:

1. Use the Mayan Apocalypse to jump back on the blogging horse.  I've been writing a lot and then get stuck pulling the trigger on the "publish" button.  "No more!" I say.  You'll be stuck with my random thoughts and drawings whether they're witty or not.
2. This might be a cliché, but people say this for a reason:  I'd call everyone who I love (and go see anyone close enough in person), and tell them I love them.  Then I'd throw away my phone.
3. Stop saying sorry.  My habit of gratuitous apologizing has reached new levels recently.  I am NOT sorry you have indigestion, as I did not cause it.  I am NOT sorry that you elbowed me at soccer.  Sorry I'm not sorry for not being sorry?
4. Go for a hard, fast run, because it's something that makes me feel alive.  (So does waterfall jumping, but there aren't any waterfalls close enough).
5. Stock up on canned goods.  I know that the kind of apocalypse people are talking about won't be the kind for which bottled water and canned beans would be useful.  But what if ... the Mayans were predicting the Zombie Apocalypse?  I need canned food, good running shoes, a backpack, a machete, and some water proof mascara (I'll be the best looking zombie survivor ever!) STAT.  At any rate, I'll actually have canned goods in the kitchen, which would be its own kind of apocalypse in a way.
6. Blast "Don't Rain On My Parade" on repeat for a good 20-30 minutes. 
7. Ignore the End of the World emails that are flooding my inbox.  No, Spirit.  I will not be booking a cheap flight.  And I hear OKCupid is encouraging its users to "Go out with a BANG," if you get my drift.  Delete delete delete!!
8. Watch Dirty Dancing.  And then turn on Crazy Stupid Love, but only watch the Ryan Gosling parts--particularly the shirtless scenes.  
9. Put on the beautiful, unworn cocktail dress hanging in my closet and await the end gracefully, peacefully, and in style. 

All that said, it doesn't seem that the world will be ending.  I'm not sure if the world is ending at midnight tonight, midnight tomorrow, or 5:11 AM tomorrow, but it's already 9:35 AM on Friday 21 in New Zealand, so I'm gonna go ahead and call a big bluff on those Mayans. 

Dear Mayans,
Stick to the brain surgeries with rocks as utensils, and leave Doomsday predictions to Harold Camping.

why you shouldn't apply the scientific method to relationships

I’m in a relationship again.  The funny thing about relationships is that they send my psycho brain zooming off in a million directions, all at once, non-stop, twenty-four-seven.  [Side bar: What if we knew all the answers to love?  We could devote all that extra brainpower to something productive.  Cancer would be cured.]  Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t always meander in good directions, because this hopelessly romantic gal is a tad cynical and guarded these days.   And my overactive brainy nerdiness that makes me endearing (to some at least) totally backfires in this instance.  Because I collect and gather evidence and analyze my relationship, like it’s an experiment or something-- the Scientific Method, 20 times a day: 

• Ask A Question:  Does my boyfriend like me?  (Easily replaced with “Is my boyfriend planning on breaking up with me?”)
• Construct a Hypothesis:  Boyfriend does not like me. 
• Conduct an Experiment:  Now, I’m not the kind of girl who usually sets up “traps” for her boyfriend.  There is no “Count how long it takes to respond to my text message” or any of that baloney.    But I might employ those methods during my experimental phases.  When I send a smiley face, is it returned?  If I call does he sound happy to hear me?
• Analyze the data:  I combine the results of my “experiments” with the vast amount of data already at my disposal -- the number of dates, numbers of text messages, lines in gchats, and numbers of phone calls received versus sent.  And I look at those numbers in terms of frequency over time, e.g.,  “3 months ago he used to text me 20 times a day, and now only 2 times a day!”
• Draw a Conclusion:  He hates me and is planning to dump me ASAP.  Or very occasionally, my fears are put to rest.  The numbers have remained steady, and I am relieved and consoled for a whole hour until the whole process starts again.
• Communicate the results (and more!):  Once I draw my pessimistic conclusion, I start to dwell on it and let it eat at me, and I become resentful, and start lashing out with passive aggressiveness.  And then, what do you know—that hypothesis becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, because how many sane guys would stay with an angry, resentful, passive aggressive girlfriend that counts text messages?  Oh wait…none.

I know.  This is insane, irrational, and totally unhealthy.  (Though I WAS comforted to find out recently from a girlfriend that I’m not the only one who does this—but I may be the only one who admits to it on the internet!).  I’m slowly coming to recognize my unhealthy behaviors, and I’m trying to grow out of them.  So going forward, I’m going to try and ditch the scientific method and operate on a basis of trust.  Trust that just because I’m not receiving a constant stream of text messages doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about me.  Trust that if he does want to break up, he will let me know.  And trust that if I am feeling uncertain about anything, that we can have an open dialogue about it.

Whoa-- Am I sounding a little grown-up? 

L

an open [breakup] letter to pinterest

Dear Pinterest,

Are you from Jamaica?  Because Jamaican me crazy!  But really --all puns aside, you're driving me crazy.

I suppose I should love you.  After all, I'm a 20-something web savvy, social networking girl who unabashedly went to college hoping for an MRS degree (obviously that didn't pan out), and loves painting her nails and eating cupcakes.  Plus, most of my friends love you.  They're inspired, invigorated, and motivated by you.  But me?  You just make crazy.  Let me explain.

Despite what some mean ex-boyfriends would say about me, I like to think of myself as a nice, normal, 23-year old girl.  I feed myself at restaurants and vending machines, and I haven't set foot in a grocery store in almost two months.  I don't have a boyfriend and I'm okay with that-- I have a ton of fun with my friends, and I sometimes wonder if I even have the time to invest in a relationship right now.  I have a closet filled with a fantastic mix of clothes from J. Crew, Banana Republic, Target and JCPenney.  I rent a room in a condo from my best girlfriend.  I like my life.  It's messy and imperfect, but it's mine, and I'm content.  Until I visit you, that is.

I try to avoid you, I really do.  But you pop up everywhere --blogs, twitter, my facebook newsfeed-- beckoning me with your trendy, perfectly painted fingernail.  And I always give in.  "Just 15 minutes before I start this project," I tell myself.  And after just 15 minutes with you?  I can't stop.  I can feel the crazy coming on, but I keep going.  Next thing I know, I have my 17th wedding planned out, 300 low-fat meals, 77 art projects, 43 fabulous outfits, and 96 ab-toning workout plans pinned.  In the course of minutes, you have turned me into some crazed, wedding-obsessed, crafty, over-ambitious Stepford Wife.


Why do you show me these things?  I don't have a boyfriend, I can't afford those adorable outfits, and my idea of creative cooking is ordering something from the kitchen that's not on the menu.  And let's be honest-- I am not Martha Stewart, and I will never make those cute, eco-friendly lightbulb flower holders.  Maybe someday I'll get to that point in my life.  Someday, I'll love cooking and have a fiancé and it will be appropriate to plan a wedding.  Maybe I'll even have tens of thousands of dollars to spend renovating my dream bathroom.  But right now?  Not so much.  You're thrusting me into this fantasy future and stealing hours and hours from my actual life, which I should be living.

So, I'm sorry, Pinterest.  But I think we've run our course.  Our time together has been special, but my heart just isn't in it anymore.   It's not you, it's me.  I want us to be friends, but I don't think that's possible right now.  Maybe I'll see you in 5 or 10 years, when I'm ready to organize my closet.

Love,
Lindsey

summer crushes and vacation boyfriends

As we all know, I spend a lot of time surfing the internet at work, obsessing over celebrity gossip and reading random blogs.  My most recent obsession is Thought Catalog.  It's full of awesome lists and essays that make me feel jealous in a "why didn't I think of this first?!" way, and usually good for some giggles.   So I was reading one such list, 19 Things You Should Do Before the Summer is Over -- most of which I have done, yay! -- when I stumbled upon this gem:

"14. Tell your crush that you like them because they’re more likely to like you back in the summer than in the fall. There’s like scientific proof."

There isn't actually scientific proof that someone will be more likely to like you in the summer (I checked), but my personal experience leads me to believe this is true.  First, because I like people more during the summer than the fall, and second, because people like me more during the summer than the fall.

Just think about it.  Summer is that magical time of year when everyone is better looking with their bronzed skin and subtle, natural highlighted hair.  All that sunshine banishes the Seasonal Affective Disorder so everyone's in a better mood all the time, and there's just so much to do:  fireworks, sailing, carnivals, evening strolls with ice cream, picnics, patio drinking, music festivals, weddings, you name it.  All of which are conveniently So Much More Fun when you have a special someone to enjoy them with.  As someone who has spent the past couple of 4th of Julys solo, I can vouch for the fact that fireworks are exponentially better when you get to snuggle on a blanket with a cute guy while you watch them.  My long, drawn-out point here?  It's natural to be more attracted to a summer crush during summer.  We're practically programmed to mate during the summer months.

Similar to the summer crush, there's the Vacation Boyfriend.  You're on vacation feeling hot from all the crash dieting, carefree because you don't have to clock in at 8am, and tan.  There's a cute guy who wants to hang out.  Another no-brainer-- sunsets, king sized beds in hotel rooms, and naps in hammocks are all meant to be shared with a cutie.  Maybe you spend the rest of the vacation flirting up a storm, smooching, going on mini-dates, and generally exploring the exotic locale.  All of this exciting romance my cause you to experience the phenomenon of Narnia Time -- you're all smitten and you feel like you've known the person for years, but in the real world it's only been a long weekend.

Despite my love for Thought Catalog and each of its authors (I know one from college!), I disagree with the 14th thing you should do before summer's over.  Summer crushes and Vacation Boyfriends are fleeting and a little shallow-- just look at Grease.  It's easy to get swept away with all of the superficial romance and overlook flaws, whether its pot smoking, deep-seated commitment issues, or the fact that they live hours away and work the night shift to boot.  I say wait until fall to tell your crush you like them. That way, you can be sure that you actually like your crush, versus succumbing to the environmental mating effects of summer.  And if they say they like you back, they're more likely to mean it, too.  Same goes for Vacation Boyfriends-- don't date them unless you still like them in the unglamorous light of the real world.

As for how to tell your crush?  Definitely don't ask me-- I prefer to drive away my love interests with my insecurities and various neurotic tendencies before it gets to that point.  But I'll save all that for another post ;)

L

writer's block and other ramblings

Darn.  The blog had it's first birthday, and I was all amped up and excited about writing and .... nothing.  I have a bunch of post-it notes covered with ideas and little sketches, and then I sit at the computer.  My mind goes completely blank.  The fingers freeze, poised above the keyboard.  I keep telling myself I'll write tomorrow, or next week.  And now five weeks have passed with nothing to show.  I even had a heckler write a comment about my lack of blogging.  Yikes.  So, as with any other problem, I turned to Google for a little research.

What I found: There is a lot of boring research regarding writer's block. There are a lot of lame-o websites with lame-o writing prompts to help "cure" your writer's block.  Even lamer?  My attempts at said writing prompts.   There are also a lot of how-to's.  Implement a writing schedule, make deadlines and keep them, work on more than one project at a time, don't be too hard on yourself, etc.  The two most recurring themes?  Try writing exercises, and examine your anxieties (the most common "cause" of writer's block). I'm not great at freestyle writing, but here goes a try at a Lindsey-like writing exercise-- a list.  My anxieties, on a scale of 1-10:

1. My cursive F is still not quite perfect, despite the many trees I have killed practicing my penmanship. 
2. Brad and Jennifer are still broken up.
3. Where did my favorite pair of underwear disappear to?  Hopefully not stolen by the neighbor in unit 10.
4. My bad taste in music.  Will I ever progress past Justin Bieber, Carly Rae, and Katy Perry? 
5. The color I will paint my bedroom for next year.  And whether I should get a new duvet cover.
6. The guy I like not liking me back.
7. Do I really want kids someday?  Recent events have me terrified of bringing kids into the world to raise and educate and release into a scary, jaded world.
8. My weight, and the struggle to balance my fat-phobia with my love for butter and burritos.
9. Overreacting and letting other people affect my mood so easily.  I can't be responsible for what others do, but I need to be responsible for how I react.  
10. Feeling like Britney Spears circa Crossroads.  What am I doing with my life?

Whew.  Words on a page, it's a baby step!  Hopefully getting all that out there will return my mojo to me, and I can go back to my sketchbook full of ideas and shower you with amazing, witty prose.  But first, I'm off to celebrate America's birthday!!

L