FEAR No. 054 – The Cool Kids

Like most of the East Coast and Midwest, Cleveland was hit with a blizzard. Of course, most would laugh where most equals Forbes Magazine because I swear that publication has it out for us, and don’t you Cleveland-guys generally suck at, you know, EVERYTHING?

Stupid Forbes Magazine.

I took the opportunity to work from home. Very rarely does this happen because the Universe has it out for me, and it doesn’t take long before my time at home is met with a phone call because, oh, look, your kid is sick. Or both kids are sick. Or the school is on fire. And just like that, I’m out of my comfortable pajamas I’d intended to spend the day in and out the door I go to retrieve one of my spawn, only to bring them home to either give me what they’ve got, or prove to me what I knew all along: they were faking it.

Children are evil. Don’t have them.

But the Universe was nice enough to me yesterday that (SURPRISE) no one was sick or dying, and all major catastrophes were averted. Imagine my surprise when my body decided to take advantage of this rest and calm to have yet another panic attack. Don’t know if you’re keeping track, but I’m batting 1,000 with the panic attacks this year, people, and I don’t even know what batting 1,000 statistically means but I can only imagine it’s high. What. The. Frick.

I’m getting to the point now, with their frequency, that I’m beginning to retrace my steps after an episode – what was I doing, what was I thinking about, what did I see on TV, who did what how and when why. Most times, I get nothing. But, yesterday, I was alternating between cleaning the house, and running to answer e-mails. After my last run, I’d sat down and began to shake. Hard. No crying this time, just shaking. Then, the strangest thought entered my mind: how can I declutter my life? Something(s) is obviously weighing me down. I took short stock of my involvement in things. Let’s start superficially. Facebook. Twitter. LastFM. BlipFM. Flickr. Hm. I’m not as involved as I think. At least not as involved as most. But maybe I should start hacking away at stuff, just to be on the safe side. I logged on to Facebook. Deleted friends, deleted comments, deleted photo albums, deleted applications. Then I deactivated myself. The shaking subsided a bit. Maybe I’m on to something…

I went to Twitter. Mmm… This was a little harder. I actually like Twitter. I like having to come up with things to say in 140 characters or less. I logged on. What’s this? John Mayer is a trending topic. Don’t tell me he died. Dig, dig, dig… his penis is a… WHITE SUPREMACIST? Read, read, read… he has a… NEGRO-but-not-using-the-word-”negro”-PASS? WHAT?!

I don’t follow many celebrities. I feel a way about celebrities having Twitter accounts. But I’ve found a few that I actually, regrettably like. Regrettably because, yes, I’m totally aware this makes me a hypocrite. But it’s Questlove from The Roots! He’s cool! And the Twitterverse of celebrities and common folk alike were a-buzz about ‘ol John and his stupid mouth, including Questlove. And he said a few things regarding the subject, namely, and I’m quoting: ….can’t wait to see spin on this. i swear his #1 demographic is the white dude black women would do in a second.

I must admit. I feel like I’m doing something big when I reply to the tweet of a celebrity because, hey! I’m talking to a frickin’ celebrity! Yay me! Nevermind that they never reply. And I replied to that tweet in a ‘ha ha, you’re so funny’ kind of way. But I must not have been the only one because an unseen shatstorm of not-so-ha-ha replies pummeled dear Questlove whose next tweet said: ladies my twitter account is not a #whatwhiteboywe’ddo poll. enough. #eitherigetdonefirstoryallgettinblockedcapiche??

That’s when it hit me: Why am I following celebrities, really? I’m not really cool for talking to them because 1) they can ignore me just like they’d do if I saw them on the street, and 2) they can threaten to block me as Questlove did with his minions who, truth be told, gave a free pass to respond with his first tweet. This is grade school and high school all over again. I’m not Questlove’s friend. I’m not John Mayer’s friend. I’m not cool. And who cares?

I didn’t delete my Twitter account, but I certainly unfollowed any celebrity that may have been on my friend list (UNFOLLOW! *shout to Dooce*). Because I’m not cool. I’m OK with that. And the sooner lots of people come to that realization, the sooner the insanity will stop.

And, hopefully, the shakes.