The ‘C’ Word

I found out today one of the moles on my back went…well, south. Which in the end is not a huge deal except it’s attached to the ‘c’ word that bring fear and dread into most people’s minds.

Especially my children.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Because this mole has already been removed, and treatment for said ‘c’ word will only be another procedure to clean up a few more millimeters of skin around where the mole used to be…my husband and I have decided not to tell the kids Mom has cancer.

Mom has cancer.

Jesus. Could that sound worse?

Sure they will find out someday, but by then visits to the hospital from the entire Spring, Summer, and Fall of Lupus 2010 will be long gone. And they won’t need 300 more rounds of therapy to get over their fear of Mom dying. We won’t order another stuffed toy to commemorate this surgery, nor will we discuss it at length so they understand what will happen before, after, and during.

Nope. This time, we’re staying quiet.

Call me a liar, tell me I’m hiding things from them. I don’t really care. They just do not need to be bothered with this minor annoyance right now, and because we trust the doctor, there is absolutely nothing for them to worry about.

My kids have been through a surgery where no one, not even the doctors knew what they were looking for, a surgery to remove my colon and gall bladder, and a surgery to remove my uterus, ovaries, and cervix, and countless hospital stays in-between emergency and otherwise. They do NOT need to know that in January my back will have a few more stitches that will take all of three minutes with a numbing shot.

They have been through enough. And to hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.

*Update: We’re aware of a commenting issue on this post due to the heavy traffic. Please try again later as we work to fix it! Thanks and yes, #fuckcancer

***Update: Comments are fixed and enabled. Thank you for coming back or sticking around.

President Palin

I don’t think it’s going to happen. But I also did not think the country would be more interested in Jersey Shore than this month’s election results.

So let’s talk about what would happen if the first female president of the United States of America is Sarah Palin.

It would be the moment girls like me have been dreaming of since we could dream, wrapped in a package we never expected. How, exactly, would we celebrate the achievement we’ve all been waiting for…while lamenting what it means for American women as a whole?

There is no question in my mind Palin and her policy’s are anti-woman, however a Palin presidential run and win would be history, epic, and game changing for females.

What to do. What to do.

I know what I plan on doing.

Working my ass off to ensure a pro-woman candidate wins.

However we would be remiss if we did not prepare for the inevitable questions and possibility our first female president is someone we do not agree with. This means continuing to work to make sure Sarah Palin has every opportunity to become president, and calling out the sexism she will undoubtedly will be subject to when she runs.

This will be a test for all true feminists across the nation.

Time to walk the walk.

In the meantime, let’s hope her chances are as silly as these two-

My night

Kids & iPads: Fish Bucks Are Not FREE

crossposted at BlogHer.com

I’m now the proud owner of $20 worth of virtual fish for a virtual aquarium.

Why would I make such a purchase you ask?

I didn’t.

My five-year old daughter did on the family iPad.

My little bff's

Yes, it’s just that easy to make purchases in the App store, and even children can figure out how to add more veggies to their virtual farms, buy the updated version of Angry Birds, and yes, even fill cyber fish tanks with loads upon loads upon loads of fish.

Because let me tell you, $20 buys A LOT of pixel fish.

Of course this is all my fault. I did not turn off the online feature. I did not disable purchases. And just minutes before my daughter’s big “click,” I had entered my password to download a new app.

Totally my fault.

But as it turns out, I’m not the only parent who’s found out the hard way that some of these games cost REAL money and not all Apps are .99cents.

Mike Rohde’s son spent $190 in virtual fish goods:

“Today, iTunes enabled inadvertent in-app currency purchases via my 7 year old son, while he played the PlayMesh Fishies app on our iPad.

Read that again — from my 7 year old son.

It Started with a Free App

The story starts when we downloaded PlayMesh Fishies from the iTunes app store for Nathan to play with. It seemed innocent enough — a free iPhone app that let him create a virtual fish tank. Looked like fun.
When Nathan called me over, asking if he could buy some pearls for his new fish tank to get more items…”

And then there are the kids who are a bit older and wiser as to how the system works.

Mollierosev tweets:

My parents + little bro have a constant iTunes war going on. He buys music, they yell, he waits a few days and buys again.

But I think Issascrazyworld had the solution:

$25 bucks on puzzles on the ipad from one kid. CD on an iTouch from another. I changed passwords & put them on Plane mode.

Brilliant. I’m off to change my iTunes password, put the iPad in plane mode, and have a nice long talk with my kids about what to do when that blue screen pops up…and then after we’ll tend to our incredibly expensive fake fish.

Politics & News Contributing Editor Erin Kotecki Vest

100 Grand

I’m closing in on 100-thousand tweets. Yes, ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND. It’s a grand affair that requires celebration.

Real princesses get dirty

In honor of this insane accomplishment (?) I want to give back to the community that has given me so very much.

I am giving away a full conference pass to BlogHer ’11 in San Diego, California.

In order to be eligible to win you must be a follower of mine on Twitter and you must send me an @ message. It’s that easy.

I will choose a winner at random and announce it as my 100-thousandth tweet.

Why must you be a follower? Because this medium is about engagement and getting to know each other, and it’s not about randomly entering a contest.

*Update 11/02/10 3:48pm – I’m going to use a random number generator and count back to the winner whenever I hit 99,999 – so the more you @ me, the better your chances.

***BlogHer is my employer, yet I am paying for this out of my own pocket and this contest is in no way sponsored by BlogHer, Inc. It’s just me, loving and appreciating this community that has taken care of my family in sickness and provided me with hours upon hours of blog and twitter love and laughter.

Good luck, and see you at BlogHer ’11.

Tiny Liberal Women Pledge Allegiance Too

Considering the hilarious flack the League of Women Voters is taking over actually wanting to follow agreed upon debate procedure, I thought I would clear my family’s name in all this:

There. That should put to rest the idea that we liberal women are the downfall of all good patriots everywhere. Or something.

And by the way, the League of Women Voters = patriots. I think their track record speaks for itself.

I’m Still Inspired By Anita Hill

…because I would have told Ginny Thomas to #SUCKIT.

1997

This was the inscription on Anita Hill’s Speaking Truth to Power, given to me by my parents in 1997.

I wish more has changed in the many years that have passed. But it seems the privileged continue to feel they are owed.

The good news is we WILL stay strong and beautiful inside and out, and the next time I bust out this book…it better be because Justice Thomas and his wife have issued THEIR apology to Ms. Hill and her parents, which she asks for in the conclusion of Speaking Truth to Power

…I would like to remind you that none of you have apologized to my parents. At the time of hearing they were nearly eighty years old. They have worked hard all their lives and attempted to raise their children to fear God, seek the truth, and to respect the authority of the government…Your malicious indictment of me was an indictment of them and all that they have taught me. At a time in their lives when they should be enjoying carefree days of leisure activities, they still fear for my safety and well-being. At the very least they deserve a public apology from each of you.

Smarts

There a lot of talk lately about female political candidates. Women in office. Women thinking of running for office.

Occasionally we hear their stance on the issues, but usually all we hear is noise. As of late it’s been about their Facebook escapades, the names they have been called, or their college religious preferences.

And now we have women on the left arguing with women on the right over who’s doing a better job standing up for females in the political arena.

Essentially, we’re having a nice, male-style, pissing match.

I have a better idea.

Mini @queenofspain the pundit - book her CNN!!

Let’s work together.

Clearly none of us get along. Clearly we couldn’t be further apart on policy, preferences and patience. But we do agree that the treatment of women in the media and by campaigns as we head into November could use some help.

On this we agree.

Let’s use it.

You don’t have to abort a fetus and I don’t have to let my neighbor’s house burn down. You don’t have to give away your money to the poor and I don’t have to suck up to big corporations.

We just have to continue to call out the sexism we see as we do our thing.

And keep everyone focused on the issues.

The Death of Lois Lane

Hard core.

That’s the only way to describe my decade as a traditional journalist. A profession that has been thrown under the bus by my blogging colleagues. Traditional journalism doesn’t get it. They are a dying breed.

Here lies Birdie. Who tragically ran into our door tonight

When I tackled a story I only had one thing in mind- to bring the people the information they needed. I was a very old school journalist and prided myself on sharing unbiased and up to the minute news on wherever I was sent that day.

Fires. Crimes. City Council meetings. Red Carpet galas. Accidents. Weather trouble. Celebrity court hearings. Deaths.

My job was always clear. My objective very straight forward. Get to a scene, collect as much information as possible, share said information with the public.

My politics never came into play. My feelings and emotions buried. I was a journalist. I was a professional. I was there for you, the listener, the viewer.

I was very good at what I did. My investigative work had cities spending millions and landed some nice hardware on my desk. But it’s not about me. This is just to lay the background on why I struggle with the current state of journalism and the impact of new media. And struggle I do.

Make no mistake, I’m leading the charge to incorporate social media into traditional journalism. I’ve spoken on the topic at universities, conferences, and in various podcasts, twitter debates, etc.

Citizen journalists and traditional journalists are not the same. You can combine the two, but in the process you kill traditional journalism.

You can’t be a reporter and share your feelings on a subject matter. This is no-no #1 in Journalism 101 and destroys your credibility. If you open your mouth, you are henceforth a columnist, pundit, and/or blogger.

The end. Period.

This does not mean you can’t break news, investigate, or report. But it does mean you will always be taken with a grain of salt, and you are NOT ever to be considered a journalist. At least not in the traditional sense.

I am no longer a traditional journalist. I gave that up the minute I opened my mouth. I am now a blogger. A pundit. A columnist.

What traditional journalists can do is use these social media tools in their reporting. Use Facebook to promote a story. Use twitter to promote a story, use your online presence in a blog or site fashion to report .. use them as TOOLS, not as bully pulpits. That is the role of reporter. That is the role of journalist.

But I fear the abuse of these social media tools have left us with few, if not zero, real journalists. Everyone is now a social media hybrid citizen journalist. A term I loathe. I prefer to call you MOS… that’s Man on the Street.

You are all witnesses, pundits, columnists, opinion makers. You can blog all day long with facts and opinion and  speculation and use all the tools and really make a difference…but that doesn’t make you a journalist.

And I fear there are none left. No one can seem to keep their mouth shut. No one can seem to ignore the siren song of tweeting how they felt about reporting that story, or blogging the ‘behind the scenes’ of their interviews in a note over on Facebook.

When I began blogging I gave up my title as journalist. It’s as simple as that. Why? Because I respect journalism. I respect what real reporters do. I respect the profession and I certainly know what it is to be a professional journalist.

I tell this to journalism students now and they look at me stunned. How can they possibly live in a world of Facebook and Twitter and blogs where their mother’s are giving status updates on their personal lives?

It’s simple…they can’t. Traditional journalist may be an impossible feat and title for anyone entering the field. I’m not sure any real reporters make their way out of this muck that is social media. You can use the social media tools all you want, but the minute you show your human side you are pounced on for being anything other than a straight news gal.

Maybe journalists were always the ideal, but never really existed. Maybe we all strived to be straight forward and unbiased and worked our tails off to make sure we got you the news and you got it opinion free. I know I did. And I also know I firmly renounce that title now that I’ve opened up my life to the world. What bothers me is other’s haven’t. They continue to label themselves journalists without really having the back ground or education or even experience. While I laude the power of the average person and their blog, and it’s power to enact change… I cringe at what it’s done to those who have worked their entire lives to bring you the news.

Maybe this is my romanticized version of news. Maybe it’s my plea to find the light inside the darkness of so much noise and information and my hope that the cream rises to the top. But more and more I’m finding it’s not the cream, it’s the crazy, loud, brash, and obnoxious. Social media has pitted the serious journalist against the shock jock, and America loves a good train wreck.

So instead of the economy we get Jersey Shore and instead of showing all the hard working people busting their butts to free an Iranian woman from being stoned, we get the Tea Party rhetoric that feminists aren’t doing a thing to help. The noise is beating out the truth. Fiction and lies are louder than those toiling behind the scenes, with no time to defend themselves because they are actually working to make change happen.

And normally it would be the part of the journalist to find these stories, to call them out, to present the information to the public. But they are too caught up playing catch up to notice.

Maybe I’m just lamenting the passing of time. Maybe this is my ‘get off my traditional journalist lawn’ post. Or maybe I just refused to see what was always there.

Lois Lane is dead.

Or was she every really a traditional journalist? After all she was fucking Superman.