Stop and THINK before you post!

Warning, this is a rant post.  If you are here today for some humor, you will most likely be disappointed.  Granted, there may be snippets of sarcasm, but this is a subject matter that is serious and deserves a serious post.

Recently I posted a link to a YouTube video of a very pretty, talented and sad girl named Amanda Todd on my Facebook page.  Since then (and NO I am not taking credit for the blow up, lol, I am sure it was coincidental), there has been a lot of discussion about this young lady and her tragic story which ultimately led to her suicide.  Her story has gone viral, and I see at least 30 - 40 people re-posting either the original video or links to a page dedicated to her on my oldest daughter's Facebook page.  Does this girl deserve to be remembered?  YES!  Does my heart break for her? ABSOLUTELY!  Do I think she could have avoided what happened if she had the ability to think of consequences? Maybe.  I urge us all to look at the entire story and the circumstances that went into what led to her ultimate decision to take her own life. Use this not only as a lesson about what impact there is when a child is bullied, but as a lesson to teach our children that there are consequences for their digital actions. Stop and THINK before you post!

I am CONSTANTLY telling Manudo to think not once, not twice, not three times, but 100 times before posting a photo of herself on any of the multitude of social networking sites to which she currently belongs.  The list includes: Twitter, Facebook, GifBoom, Skype, Instagram, etc.  Some of these give the false impression that if you post something, decide it is inappropriate or you don't like it, that you can choose to edit or remove the content.  I have news for you: Once something is on the Internet, it is there FOREVER.    All it takes is for one person to save that image to their personal computer and repost it...just like what happened in Amanda's case.

If you have kids in the 12 - 17 age range, I am sure that they have at least a Facebook page.  My challenge to you is to log into your child's Facebook page (and if you don't have access to your minor child's page, then shame on you), and look at what they are posting, Instant Messaging, and HIDING from you.  Also, look at what their so called friends are posting.  I will guarantee you that you will find any number of inappropriate posts/pictures/comments that will make you want to wash your eyes out with bleach.  On my daughter's feed I have seen "friends" calling each other: Gay, Homo, Loser, Ugly, Bitch, Slut, Dick, Asshole, Stupid, Thug, Retard, Nigga', Butt Buddy, Fat, Anorexic, Pimple Faced, the list goes on and on and on.  Seriously, if you have "friends" who do this to you what would your enemies be saying?  What is even more disturbing to me, as a mother, is the way that girls and boys are constantly "pimping" themselves out there by asking for "rates" on their photos.  Some will take multiple photos daily and post them to the site.  Not even an hour will go by  and they post they are depressed because their photo didn't get as many "likes" or comments as they felt necessary to make them feel like a worthwhile human beings.  I have seen 12 and 13 year old girls posting pictures of their "cleavage", full length bikini pictures (with the caption, do I look fat?), pictures of their asses, and sexually suggestive photos of themselves.  I have seen 12 and 13 year old girls posting about liking sex, wanting to "blow" someone, and pictures of themselves kissing and making out.  Whatever happened to the saying "Pretty is as Pretty Does?"  And the girls aren't alone, boys are doing just as inappropriate texting/posting/etc.

I was very surprised, and impressed, when one of my daughter's friends posted this picture:

BOTH stories are sad, but, could one have ended differently if they thought about the consequences of their actions?  Bullying is a very serious issue.  I also know I have been guilty of thinking "Well, I was bullied as a kid, and I grew up and was fine."  However, kids who are bullied today face the fact that their torment is documented and shared virally, while the rest of us older than 20 only had to make it through the day at school.  These poor kids are stalked in ways we can only imagine.  It makes me nauseated to just think of it, and even more ill to think of how I would handle it if my child was the target of such bullying as Amanda or any number of other children who are just trying to fit in today.

All I know is I am and WILL monitor my children's social media until they are 18.  Our deal is if you want access to these sites, you have to give me your log-in information.  Same rule applies to cell phones and texting.  It isn't because I am nosy and do not respect my kids privacy, it is because I am their mother and my first job is to protect them, not FRIEND them.

Rant over.  I am sure many of you disagree, but if you think I made any valid points, please talk to your kids and better yet, share this post with your friends.

No, I am not the stripper, I work here!

As most of you know, I work in a traditionally man's job.  I am a facilities engineer/energy conservation champion for a 2.4 million square foot manufacturing plant.  I have worked at manufacturing plants as an engineer for over 12 years.  I like it, I really do!  There are times when I hate it, but isn't that pretty much every person's job?  I was first introduced to the "joys" of being a female in a plant environment was when I was 18 going on 19.  You see, Momginerd wasn't ALWAYS the biggest studious Nerd I grew into.  I had a short period in college when life was more about boys, partying, sports,  and anything BUT studying.  I was lucky in high school in that I made really good grades with minimal effort.  However, the rigors of a challenging college where everyone was intelligent was a different experience for me.  All of a sudden, I was making letter grades that I had never even seen before!  I got a C on my semester report card, and a bunch of Bs but the usual A's were woefully missing.....in my family an A- was questioned, so you can imagine how a C went over like a turd in the punch bowl.

"Nic, clean all of these with toxic chemicals and a paint brush"

My wise father decided that it may be time for me to learn a lesson.  I do not come from a family of Office Workers.  My grandfather was a Coal Miner, my grandmother a Seamstress, my dad started his career as a skilled trades worker, and continued to work in automotive manufacturing for over 35 years.  The value of hard work was one that had been instilled in me my whole life...second only to the value of the dollar and the importance of an education.  For Pops to believe that I was wasting all 3 of his hard taught lessons led him to scheme the ultimate revenge:  He arranged for me to work in a machining shop for the summer....not in the office, but actually IN THE SHOP, as the only female.  Mind you, this was quite a few years ago, and this was an "old school" shop that was not unionized (thus how he could arrange for his 18 year old daughter to work 72 hours a week, I am sure).  I worked 12 hours a day 6 days per week.  I wore: Safety glasses, long sleeves, long pants, hair in a bun, mesh gloves, and steel toed shoes.  Isn't that the ultimate outfit for a cute little 18 year old to wear? Oh, and in case you don't have the full picture of this "opportunity," I had to drive about 30 minutes each way for a start time at 6:30 AM and there was NO air-conditioning in the shop.  Not only did I look gorgeous, I smelled FANTASTIC by the end of the day.

This is an industrial press similar to the ones used in my shop

Since I obviously had no skilled trades experience, I was informed that I would be the shop machine cleaner, and if I was really lucky, I could work my way up to loading/unloading parts from the presses.  Oh Goody!  Anyway, I show up for my first day with my required safety equipment and my brown bag lunch.  On that first day, my start was later than normal since I had to go get a physical and drug test prior to starting.  I walk into the shop and a guy comes up to me and says: "Oh you must be here for the retirement party!"  I replied, "I don't think so...."  My confusion was at a high level at this point.  He then escorts me to an area of the plant and asks me, "Where is your boom box?"  Confusion mounting even more, I replied, "I really didn't think this would be the sort of job where I would need one."  Now, he is looking at ME very quizzically.  We continue walking through the plant, and I notice I am getting a lot of very "interested" stares, and the guys are following along like I am the Pied Piper or someting.  Now, this was not normal for me at all, but I was beginning to think I may like working there!  We finally reach the back of the plant and everyone starts gathering around and staring at me.  I was thinking, "Wow! they must be SO happy to have a fresh face in here, look at how eagerly they are looking at me!"  So, I said, "Thanks for gathering together to welcome me here, do you know what I will be doing?"

At that point, 45 men started realizing that there may be some confusion as to who and what I was doing there.  One of them, after a very long pregnant pause, said, "You aren't here to strip for Fred on his last day of work?"  I then stammered, with much embarrassment, "Um, no, I am your new employee."  That response was met with many people talking at once.  Some of the snippets I remember included:
1.  WTF? A GIRL in here?
2.  Ummmmm.....where IS the stripper then?
3.  She won't last 2 days after this! (I detected much glee with this one)
4.  Who did she piss off to have to work here?

The stripper did end up showing up about 15 minutes later, much to the relief of the guys and the mortification of myself.  I oftentimes wonder what the hell my dad thought of the fact that his lesson led me to be mistaken for a stripper....I do chuckle, now, but at the time you can believe the lesson was learned, and I can honestly say all that hard earned money, stripping machines of their grime, not me of my clothes, led to a marked improvement in my study skills and grades.  Lesson learned, Dad!

I think the funniest (Now, not then) days must have been when my dad or uncle would visit the shop for business and see me working covered head to toe in metal shavings and grease.  I literally had to strip to my skivvys at the entryway to the house before my parents would let me enter.  I spent much time that summer with a needle digging out shavings from my hands, face, scalp, neck, etc....If nothing else, that experience taught me to work smarter not harder, and to dress ALWAYS in a way to NOT be mistaken as a stripper!

Until next time,
Nic

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I have Reverse Anorexia........

So, on my Facebook page today a friend posted this ad from the Body Shop that was pulled after Barbie, INC threatened them:

 

It made me realize that even though I most likely look like this ad, or perhaps even worse, in my mind, I look more like this (but brunette):