Before facebook and before twitter, I used to talk to myself a lot….well, not really. When I discovered facebook, which was followed by twitter, it gave me an arena to express my thoughts, my opinions, whatever was on my mind. But before social media, there was my keyboard and me.
My thoughts would travel from my brain, down into my fingers, into the keyboard and onto the screen. I could see my words, print them and read them out loud, even when no one was listening, which was most of the time. I wasn’t really talking to myself, I was reading to myself. I learned to use my keyboard as a form of self-therapy, a way to channel my energies (good and bad).
To gave you an idea of what I’m talking about, here’s the best example I can think of. When my son Zach was in elementary school, he started playing travel soccer. No wait, I think I need to go back a little further. When my daughter Allie was in elementary school (she’s 3 years older than Zach), she had a “best friend.” Unfortunately, another girl in her class also wanted the same girl to be her “best friend.” Even more unfortunate, the other girls mother was a bitch and many of the other moms didn’t care for her games or the fact that she was a bitch. Of course, this rivalry for best friend-ness didn’t sit well with the bitch and she viewed us, the parents, as some sort of rival.
Now, the bitch happened to have a son the same age as Zach, which brings me back to travel soccer. When Zach was playing soccer, most of his friends were playing football. Every Friday after football practice, Zach’s friends were invited to dinner at the house of the bitch….and believe me, even 10 and 11 year old boys know a bitch when they see one. Each Friday, Zach was left out as some form of vendetta against Linda and me.
This completely enraged me. So what did I do? I wrote the bitch a letter. Wrote, printed it, read it out loud to myself. When I was done, I ripped up the print out and deleted the letter from my computer. And you know what? I felt better. My keyboard was my therapist.
To make matters even better, the bitches 2 kids both ended up going to private school, rarely (if ever) to be seen or heard from again. Years later, Zach and those friends of his who played football, well they are still friends. During vacations, there is a constant stream of ex pee-wee football players in and out of my house.
As for the bitch herself, don’t know, don’t wanna know. My keyboard cured me from ever having to think about her again, except to tell you all about it.