Tag Archives: Edgar

Curating the Experience

People like to complain about Facebook. Every couple of months, a story surfaces about the sordid underbelly of…algorithms. Or paying to reach fans. Or a story gone viral which was untrue.

I read an article about what happens when you Like something on Facebook, which laid out everything we’ve learned and experienced over our long partnership with this particular social media. Yes, you do certain things to make it work for you. No, it is not as simple as it looks (or perhaps as it should be).

But it got me thinking. The more we Like people’s pics and statuses, the more they show up. The more we Like articles from organizations, the more likely those will turn up in our feed. I know if I ignore my sister’s pics (because, say, I’m liking them on Instagram and have this thing about one Like per original media), I’m going to start seeing less of my sister’s news. I often Like things simply to encourage Facebook to continue showing those people in my feed.

Which is exactly how I want to live life offline, as well. The more I focus on what I like, what I want in my life, the more I will encourage it to show up. The more I ignore, say, characters from reality TV (by not watching the shows, not conversing with friends about them, not reading magazine articles, not using pop culture references of theirs), the less those characters show up in the feed of my life.

But if I decide to focus on, for instance, peacocks, the more peacocks I realize I see. It’s confirmation bias: you notice what you expect to see. (There may be some Law of Attraction in there, but I’m not that far along.)

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This guy is all mine! I made him for my office wall.

 

Try curating the feed of your life by Liking what you want to see more of and ignoring what you don’t. Be intentional. Facebook doesn’t read your mind: it notices your clicks; and life requires focus in order to change.

My time investment often goes to things that don’t matter because I want to save really important things for when I have the quality time to focus. But all that gets me is free time filled with the life equivalent of Buzzfeed articles.

I’m going to curate my life more intentionally, starting with reducing the negativity. Is it really going to help me to know what the ten most hated words of 2014 were? How about the unbelievably insensitive thing some ignorant media person said? Or the reason that our generation is horrible, lazy, apathetic, or devoid of empathy?

Do I really need to expend the effort to get mad or defend my side? No. There are millions of other people doing that for me.

I’m going to go Like some organic tea and focus on Edgar. Maybe do art. Practice learning a language.

All that energy not spent on being outraged has got to go somewhere.

 

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Crazy Plant Lady

Some women become crazy cat ladies, I told my sister. I’m becoming a crazy plant lady.

It all started, truthfully, after my Grandma passed away. She had a lemon tree in her back yard which was her pride and joy, and I realized I needed one, too.

So I got a beautiful Meyer lemon. It gave me many, many lemons this year. I still need to get a real pot and replant it.

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When my Mom passed away this last December, some kind church friend brought over food, including some little bitty avocados with–get this–edible skin. (The magic Google has told me these are Mexicola avocados.) Naturally, I saved the seeds. They are currently sprouting on my kitchen counter.

But oh, my pride and joy came home from the nursery with me just before Christmas, and I loved him from the moment I claimed him as my own.

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His name is Edgar. He’s very affable. If I don’t let him out to play in the sun he’ll guilt me into it by watching mournfully from the window.

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I swear he’s gotten bigger in the week since I got him.

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I think he likes it here.

The cyclamen from the funeral is not so sure she’s happy. We’re going to have to sit down together soon and talk about whether we have compatible goals. She might benefit from a chat with my old, wise Heartleaf Philodendron…

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as long as she ignores the other Heartleaf Philodendron slowly dying in the fish vase across the room.

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(Between you and me, I think he hasn’t gotten over the experience of living in a horrible cave-like apartment, but that was five years ago! I say it’s time to stop holding grudges.)

So if you’ll excuse me, I need to go record Edgar’s growth so I can add it to the pictures in his baby book, schedule a Philodendron-therapy appointment for the cyclamen, meet the lemon tree for breakfast, and plan my tough-love talk for the sulking fish plant.

It’s probably best I don’t have real children.