God. The Almighty. The Alpha & The Omega. The Holy One. The Holy Spirit. The Holy Ghost. The One & Only. Some people live their lives in a never ending quest to find God. Some people are skeptical of his existence. Some people pray hoping for some sort of answer to their prayers. But almost everyone I know, even if they are agnostic or atheist, is curious. If they don’t believe in God it’s because they are the type of people who need hard evidence and have found none (or not enough) to support the theory of the Bible. (I say theory in italics b/c I totally believe, so it’s not a theory to me; it’s a fact.) Well, oh ye unbelieving ones, God is real. He’s as real as you and me (if you are, in fact, real people). Some say God isn’t present in the God-forsaken, technology reliant, promiscuous society we live in today… You. Would. Be. Wrong. How do I know? I’ll tell you.
I signed into Facebook today, read a few new messages and then went back to my homepage when, low and behold, under my “suggestions” box on the right side of my screen, this is what I see…
God 16 friends are fans Become a Fan
I laugh at first, naturally. Then I’m a bit intrigued. I click on the page link. I am taken directly to God’s homepage. “God’s what??” God’s homepage; his very own Facebook page that looks basically like yours or mine would look but not as fancy. I think the reason it’s so basic is because, ya know, God’s a busy guy and probably doesn’t have time to add cool boxes and update his info all the time. Understandable.
Under God’s “Recent Activity” there is one lonely line that reads, “God Joined Facebook”. Sigh, I guess it is true: Everyone jumps on the Facebook bandwagon eventually. So far he’s pretty popular as far as Facebook goes; he has almost a million fans. In the grand scheme of things this doesn’t really seem like a lot when you consider how many people are on Facebook all over the world that believe in God, but I’m sure this number will grow as people discover that He’s on Facebook. I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty curious to see how many fans He will ultimately get. All joking aside, I’m also curious what He thinks of all this. Is it a pro or a con? Hypothetical situation: I die tomorrow (knock on wood) and go to Heaven. As I near the pearly gates I see God in all his glory and contemplate how much the gold paved road would cost on earth. I get to the gates. God looks at me and asks me what I’ve done to spread his Word.
“Well…” I’ll say, “I became a fan of yours on Facebook yesterday and, not to brag but I have 1,076 Facebook friends, so I’d say that “Heather became a fan of God” showed up in all of their suggestion boxes. That counts as spreading your Word, right? And through six degrees of separation I’d guess that at least a few more thousand people saw that I was a fan of yours as well. Did you know that you already have 983′818 fans?!? I don’t know when exactly (or how for that matter) you joined Facebook but… you sure are a popular fellow. You go God!”
Would that gain me entry into Heaven? What if I don’t become a fan of God on Facebook? Would that get me a one-way ticket straight to Hell? Does God even really want to be on Facebook? It all seems a bit ridiculous to me. Almost sacrilegious. What do you think? Are you going to become a Facebook fan of God?
I grew up in a very Christian household. We went to church twice every Sunday, morning and night, and bible class was in the morning before actual church; we went to that too. Sometimes we even went to church on Wednesday night. Seriously. I never minded going to church until around the age of 16; which is exactly the age I started drinking.
Church in the morning is hell when you’re hungover as fuck. And somehow the preacher would always preach about something completely relevant to what I had done the night before. When you’re sitting on a wooden pew trying your hardest not to puke, your head pounding in your ears, the last thing you wanna hear is someone preach about what a sinner you are. I always felt like he was preaching straight to me.
I kept going though, if only to make my mother happy. Then I went to college. Needless to say, the church going ceased. I was free to make my own decisions without effecting anyone elses feelings. At first I was just so glad to be free that I didn’t even think about what I wanted; I just chose not to go b/c I didn’t have to anymore. Why get up at 8:30 on a Sunday when I can sleep till noon? I found no reason.
I believe in God, I always have. I was baptised at the age of 10 or 11 by my own convictions. Then I was baptised again around the age of 16 b/c I realized that at age 10 or 11, not only did I not really have anything to repent for yet, I had no idea of the magnitude of my decision. I had only been baptised so early b/c I thought it was the right thing to do. So I got dunked again.
My drunken, rebellious college days came to an end and as you all know I moved in with my (ex) boyfriend. Living with a significant other before marriage is the same as murder in my church. Everyone knows you’re having sex and continually sinning against God. It tore my mother apart, literally. It also tore apart the rest of my extended family as well as my church family. But not so fast. This is the problem I have with church.
Instead of simply praying for you and hoping everything goes the way you hope it will (in my case I thought I would ultimately marry the ex or I never would have moved in with him) they gossip. After church everyone talks amongst themselves about the “sinners” who aren’t at church. I was listed as a black sheep. I had fallen off the deep end. The devil had me and people would sigh and just shake their heads like “what a waste”. I know this b/c I’ve been going to the same church since I was a baby. My mom has been going there since she was a child too. My Grandfather helped build that church. I know these people like the back of my hand. Oh and a girl my age I grew up with in the church told me her mom said I’m a black sheep. More proof needed? I don’t think so.
I have a huge problem with this. You sinning hypocrites. Who the fuck do you think you are? Now that I’m back home again do I go to church? No. Why? Honestly, it’s just too early and brunch is so tempting. But also, I don’t need to be judged by people who point their fingers at someone else and never at themselves. We’re all sinners. Just because you go to church doesn’t make you a perfect Christian. No one is a perfect Christian. And they’re all so freagin self-righteous; it’s enough to make you wanna throw up. I know what’s in my heart and I don’t have to explain or justify myself to anyone b/c God already knows. I’ll let him judge me.
I do have faith. I know that there is one God. I believe in the bible. I believe that the bible is a guide: Stories and prophesies that should not be taken literally but, due to the passage of time, are very open to personal interpretation. Therefor I find it hard to find a religion that fits all my beliefs. I’ve done a lot of research on different religions and have come to some conclusions of my own. Everyone thinks that their religion is the right religion. Otherwise they wouldn’t practice it.
I believe that most religions (with the exception of some strange multi-god serving ones & Scientology & Kaballah) have the right idea. I think it’s wrong to say that one religion is right and the others are not. Yes, it’s good to steadfastly hold your own beliefs but you don’t know for sure that your religion is the right one. Really, everyone who believes in God (or whatever your religion calls him) is doing the best they can with what they were taught. I can’t help but be biased toward Christianity b/c that’s how I was raised but I also think that other religions have some interesting ideas and opinions. I don’t necessarily think they are wrong at all. They could be right. I won’t know until I can ask God directly; and by then it’ll be too late.
I think God must know this. He knows everything. He knows what’s in our hearts and he knows what we’re thinking, feeling, etc. He knows that the world has many many religions and I hope he knows that we are just too human to know which one(s) have it all right. We get so caught up in the little things that we’re blind to the big picture. Should churches really split up over a dispute stemming from whether or not to have musical instruments during worship?? Personally I find that absurd. Should churches split over whether to have female church leaders or not? I honestly have no idea. I have no problem with female worship leaders but I have no idea how God feels about it. I know in the bible it says that all leaders will be male but times are so different now. I find it hard to believe that God could be sexist. Women have just as much to offer as men; we are all equals. I understand why churches split, but that’s exactly why I find organized religion to be a bit of hogwash. Each religion is just a variation of the other; and that variation came from a human argument over what God wants us to do. But we don’t KNOW what God wants us to do.
So I just believe. I pray occasionally. I read the bible occasionally (I’ve already read the whole thing during my lifetime… more than once. Thank you bible study.) People know I’m a believer. I’m a Christian. I’m a sinner. I’ll try out a new church here and there. I ask questions. I watch the history channel (it’s so cool sometimes). I have faith that in the end it wont matter how many times we went to church or how steadfast we were in our human interpretation of what is Godly. I believe that God will see us for who we are and what we are, what we’ve done and haven’t done, and what our intentions were; and I believe that he’ll judge us accordingly.
I could be completely wrong and I know that’s a risk I take. Obviously believing isn’t all there is to it; even the Devil believes in God. But if I am wrong, at least I tried. At least I had an earnest curiosity and an eagerness to learn about God and religion. What else can I do? I’m only human. And at this point I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints anyways; the sinners are much more fun.
I’m hanging out at C’s house last night (his girlfriend, Gemma, was outta town) and we’re catching each other up on the happenings of our lives when he tells me to wish him luck. “Good luck with what?” I said. “Gemma gets home tomorrow and we haven’t spoken on the phone the whole time she’s been gone.” says C. “WHAT!?!? How is that possible!?” I scream, ” She’s ALWAYS calling and texting you!” The next part is priceless. C says, “Well, before she left I told her things weren’t working out and that I didn’t really wanna be with her anymore. But she said no.”
(Pause)… “I’m sorry… she said what?”
C: “She said no. Then she said she loved me and was really gonna miss me. She’s so weird like that sometimes. It’s like I’m crazy or something.”
Me: “I didn’t realize you could say no when someone breaks up with you.”
C: “I know right!?! Me neither! But she did. And I was just like, oh.. ok… love you too…?”
Me: “C!!! That’s so weak! You just went with it!?!?”
C: “I mean… if she really loves me and wants to be with me that much… then.. It’s not like I hate her, it’s just…”
Me: “C you can’t kind of break up with someone. You have to mean it. She obviously knew you would cave if she just confused you a little.”
C: “But I tried again! I don’t know what to do! I have no idea what’s gonna happen when she gets home….we’ve only texted a few times the past few days. Look.”
I read the text messages. They were fucking incredible. Re-writing them wouldn’t have the same effect. So I took pictures. Yes, I took pictures of C’s phone. C is the lime green bubbles, Gemma is the grey. C had to go to court over a DUI but now it’s just a reckless ticket thanks to awesome lawyers. Oh and Gemma got a boob job a couple of weeks ago and now thinks she’s the queen of shit and can do no wrong just b/c she has big fake boobies. Makes no sense but it’s relevant. Oh and C calls her his boo… probably b/c she told him to.
He never wrote her back. I wished him luck. The best part (aside from the fact that I have amazing friends who let me take pictures of their hilarious texts so I can blog about them) is that she doesn’t know why he would send her a text like that… but she misses him. Pathetic. I kinda wish I were friends with this girl so I could be there for her and tell her, “Uhh… I think it’s b/c he doesn’t wanna date you anymore dude.” But that wouldn’t really work b/c then she’d probably want all her clothes and jewelry back and I’m just not willing to part with them.
On that note I scored a really hot one shoulder dress, a pair of skinny purple jeans, and a nice black tank from C’s house the other day. I didn’t even steal the stuff really: I told him I was taking it and he begrudgingly agreed. I also told him that if they are in fact “broken up”, I call all her clothes left in the house. He agreed to that too. Yay for me.
Seriously though; I’m at a loss for words on the topic of saying no to being dumped. All that’s coming to mind is, “WTF!?” and “Really?!?” and “But how? How would that work in the long run??” I’m trying to envision my past and if I could have just said no, or if I’d ever tried it, or if someone ever tried it on me. I think I would remember if any of those had happened though. I’ve def told someone they can’t break up with me (once dammit) but I knew that my words had no real leverage… and I didn’t say that while they were trying to break up with me. Ever. This girl must be in some serious denial with some serious issues that fake boobs can’t fix. And C really needs to step it up if he’s gonna get rid of this one. She’s a lil loco.
A year ago my life was completely different than it is now. I lived in a 2 bedroom apartment in Atlanta with my dog and the ex. At the time, he obviously wasn’t the ex; he was it. I was literally crazy about him and he was (or had been till this month last year) crazy about me. It sounds alright when said like that but being crazy about each other- at some point… somehow- turned into both of us being totally & legitimately out of control crazy.
I was living in my own hell with an insane boy; and I just couldn’t quit him. I had countless opportunities to walk away; to get out, but I always chose to stay. I had zero self-esteem; he made sure of that every chance he got (basically every second of every day). I had no real job. I worked at a restaurant/sports bar but had only just finished training and had worked maybe 3 shifts. I hated it. I had a phone interview with a Public Relations firm tomorrow (last year) and I was slightly hopeful. I desperately needed a job, my debt was becoming astronomical (almost $20,000).
The fights that the ex and I were having seemed non-stop. He didn’t even believe that I had a job as a waitress and would show up during my shifts to make sure I wasn’t lying. He thought that I was flirting with customers, other waiters, managers, anyone with a penis. He thought that b/c I didn’t answer my phone every time he called or texted I must be cheating on him. Two days from now (last year) I didn’t show up for my scheduled morning shift at the restaurant and only went back the next week to get my paycheck: My pathetic waitress job caused too much stress between me and the ex and I just couldn’t do it anymore.
It was the darkest place I’ve ever been in my life. Thinking that I loved the dog more than I loved him; the ex would hit my 6 pound dog harder than you’d hit a full grown husky. He made my dog yelp and cry on many multiple occasions; just to assert control and to watch me console my pup sobbing while he shouted profanities and threats and looked at us in complete disgust. He had started smoking pot on the regular, which I hated, and was hanging out with a sketchy crowd to say the least. He never went to class but was convinced he was going to ace all his classes. We never went out. Going out meant extreme fighting. He drank constantly. He never remembered what he did or said when he was drinking; so he never really remembered anything.
I was all alone. I had basically one friend in Atlanta. I knew her from college (we’re still good friends). He wouldn’t allow me to make new friends. New friends meant that I was hanging out with and thinking about someone other than him, and that meant I didn’t really love him. The girl he fell in love with was a pretty, bubbly, outgoing, adventurous, driven, fun-loving, popular, easy-going, funny, smart, fit blond. The girl living with him was none of those things. He ruined me to make me more manageable. I would never leave him if I thought no one else would want me. He made sure that I thought I was stupid, boring, worthless, lazy, fat, ugly, pathetic, unloved and insane; by telling me those things every single day. They begin to stick after a while.
The funny thing is, I always knew he was just saying these things b/c he was insecure himself, and I felt bad for him; so I continued to verbally build him up in the hopes that his self-esteem would grow and he wouldn’t feel the need to cut me down all the time. This approach didn’t work… at all. A week after today of last year- 2 days after I almost co-signed on a new car for him, 2 days before my in-person interview with the Public Relations firm, hours after telling me I was the only girl for him and he’d love me forever- he woke me up to dump me at 3am; after he got some… naturally.
My world collapsed at 3am. He left me completely broken. I could barely breathe. The loneliness I experienced that night was indescribable. I had no one. I sat in bed crying uncontrollably, on the verge of a nasty panic attack, while my dog licked at my tears. After an hour or so, when I realized he wasn’t coming back, I called the only person I knew still loved me: My big brother. The chances of him picking up or even waking up at 4am were highly slim to probably none. But he did.
I honestly don’t know where I would be today if my brother hadn’t answered his phone. I was not me back then; I was who the ex had made me and without him I had no idea who I was. I was nothing. I was no one. But my brother answered his phone and all of a sudden I was his little sister again. He loved me, he cared; and I’m pretty sure he saved my life that night.
He told me it was gonna be ok. He told me to call dad in the morning and that he would book me a flight to come home that day. He told me not to worry: Put all my valuables in my car and we would worry about everything else later. He told me he loved me. He told me that the ex breaking up with me was the best thing that could have happened. He told me the ex was a loser and medically insane; adding that he must be in order to let someone like me go. He told me he had been so scared for me. He told me he was so happy I was finally coming home. And he told me that everyone else was going to be so happy too. “We’ve missed you so much.”
I fell asleep crying.
The next day everything happened like he said it would. A brief encounter with the ex as I was leaving to go to the airport and I drove away feeling like I was in a movie; complete with sad breakup background music. Of course I remember the song. Right as I put the car in drive and rolled up my window, Rihanna’s newly released “Take A Bow” started playing on the radio. It was the first time I’d ever heard the song.
The timing was unreal. It was perfect. He really did put on quite a show. He really had me going. And now it’s time to go. The curtain’s finally closing. I knew this was right. I knew he’d be the one looking back with regrets. I knew that I’d make it somehow. I started breathing more evenly. I stopped crying. I called my BFF.
After I told her what was going on and she promised she’d come back to Atlanta with me to help me move my stuff out she said, “Oh thank you God my best friend is back!” I said, “Well, I’m not back yet.” To which she replied, “No, I mean you. It’s really you! I know you’re sad but the whole time you were with him you never sounded like yourself; you were someone else, and I couldn’t get to her and I thought I had lost my best friend forever but now you’re back! I can tell, you sound different; you sound like you used to sound. I’ve missed you so much, you don’t even know!”
That was the beginning of me realizing that I had been in a totally fucked up, controlling and abusive relationshit. I’m not gonna lie, it took a little while to realize that the person I loved didn’t really exist. It was just so hard to wrap my head around. I loved him unconditionally for a year and a half almost and it wasn’t real. That really fucks with your brain. To think you could be fooled for so long; brainwashed and completely controlled and not even know it. I thought it was passion. I thought it was true love. It was crap. It was the descriptive paragraph under “reasons for prescribing schizophrenic medication”, which he started (and stopped) taking 2 weeks before the break up (he said he didn’t like the way they made him feel… I’m guessing the feeling was normalcy, and he didn’t know how to deal with normal).
The first night I went out in DC after I got home I thought I would be fine; I thought I would have a lot of fun. At first I did. The bouncer said I looked a lot happier than I had last time he saw me (we used to frequent that bar a lot) and told me I looked awesome. I smoked a cig outside when a a girl I’ve been friends with since 3rd grade walked up and squealed when she saw me; I jumped on her and gave her a big hug. She said, “YES you’re back!! I knew you’d get rid of that fucking loser asshole and come back to us some day!” I told her he dumped me. She said, “Well fucking good. Who cares who dumped who? At least it’s over. He was fucking crazy!” We laughed. He was fucking crazy. Everything was fine until the vodka hit me.
I had one and a half drinks and was totally wasted thanks to the break-up diet I was unknowingly on. It consisted of eating basically nothing b/c chewing was too much work. Food was completely unappealing. That night after only maybe an hour I ended up bawling uncontrollably and BFF took me to the small office in the back of the bar and told me not to move. I didn’t wanna move. I just wanted to die. She reappeared 10 minutes later with pizza in hand. She said the other girls had suggested pizza b/c they had guessed I hadn’t eaten in over a week (based on my appearance and pathetic consumption of alcohol). I didn’t want it but I ate a few bites to make her happy and we got in a cab and went home. Friends texted telling me they loved me and that it would be ok. I knew they were right; I just didn’t know when it would finally be ok again.
Thankfully, our 3 week family trip to Hawaii was 2 weeks after the break up. God must have known I would need that. The BFF and I had gone back to get my things so that was all over with. I had just changed my phone number so that the ex would stop texting and calling me and I was so ready for a break from life. I was down to about 105 pounds on my medium built 5′4 frame and my face looked freagin huge in comparison. I’d never been that skinny before. My clavicle was completely visible as was my breast bone and my hip bones stuck out like a really sore thumb. I was wearing a double zero. The cruise was a blessing. I finally started eating again and it was so nice to be away from cell phones and society.
I guess it took a month or two of mourning till I was ok. I healed surprisingly fast. I didn’t grieve consistently b/c life wouldn’t allow it. The cruise was more healing than hurting but a few weeks after that when I started “dating” someone new the grief came back ten fold. I obviously wasn’t ready to date yet. The break up happened at the perfect time though; right before summer, and I fucking love me some summer. It was the best summer I’ve ever had. I loved being single. I still love being single.
All of a sudden here I am, a whole year later. I’m employed, almost out of debt, at a healthy weight, looking at apartments on Saturday and most of all I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy it’s ridiculous. I’m happy just to be alive. I’m happy I get to be myself every second of every day. The ex breaking up with me was the best thing that could have happened. When I think about the ex now I laugh. It was a lesson learned the hard way but it was worth it. I feel no love for him, only pity. I got out, and I got on with my life. Yes, he’s the only boy to ever break up with me but… he’s crazy… so that kinda validates it for me. Crazy people don’t count. I just thank the lord I didn’t get preggers with crazy boys child. Thank. You. God. Anyways, I’m super close to my brother now and I have more friends than I ever could have asked for. I’m blessed. It’s amazing how fast a year can fly by and it’s even more amazing how much can change in just one little year.The possibilities for next year are endless. Who knows what’ll happen next? =)
I was def not planning on writing that much at all. It’s 9pm and I’m still at the office. Jeebus that was intense. Sorry about that guys, I got a little out of control on this post. It happens.
A guy from my highschool just commented on a picture of me, BFF, .5 and Caylie (friend from highschool who just moved back into the area. BFF, Caylie and I were basically the 3 musketeers in early highschool years). He wrote,
“It’s amazing y’all have managed to stay such good friends all these years… I have like no friends from highschool, I is well jealous.”
And he should be. I am ridiculously lucky to have such amazing friends that have known me for the better part of my life. It just makes me smile. They’re the reason I stay in DC. Friends like mine are irreplaceable and hard if not impossible to find. I was blessed when I moved back home after the ex incident and became sisterly close to Juicy. We lived basically next to each other for 3 years in college but didn’t become good friends until we were both back home.
There’s something very cohesive about a home town; a sense of security. Not everyone knows you but everyone knows someone else who knows you, and I find that very comforting. It’s like an instant common ground or understanding. No one is really a stranger in the town you grew up in and even if you move far away it will always be your hometown. It’s exactly like the OAR I Feel Home song:
There are few things pure in this world anymore,
and home is one of the few.
We’d have a drink outside,
maybe run and hide if we saw a couple men in blue.
To me it’s so damn easy to see
that true people are the people at home.
Well, I’ve been away but now I’m back today,
and there ain’t a place I’d rather go.
I feel home,
when I see the faces that remember my own.
I feel home,
when I’m chilling outside with the people I know.
I feel home,
and that’s just what I feel.
Home to me is reality,
and all I need is something real.
Feeling alright, heading out tonight,
maybe out to a dark driveway.
I say now some feel bored,
and some are looking for more.
Well, we all just decide to stay.
We got nothing to do,
and I look at you
I see something that I know and love.
and with the crack of a smile we all stay a while
we know from home there ain’t nothing above.
Well in the end we can all call a friend
well that’s something I know as true.
And then a thousand years and a thousand tears
I’ll come finding my original crew
cause to me throughout eternity
there’s somewhere where you’re welcome to go
I said it’s something free that means a lot to me
when I’m with my friends I feel home.
I feel home,
when I see the faces that remember my own
I feel home,
when I’m chilling outside with the people I know.
I feel home,
and that’s just what I feel.
Home to me is reality,
and all I need something real
Home to me is reality,
and all I need something real
The first thing I do when I get to work is turn on my laptop. While it’s booting up I make my chapstick easily accessible on my desk, get some water, take my morning dose of Adderall and arrange my favorite pens on my desk next to my laptop. Then I open Mozilla, wait for all my saved tabs to load, and sign into my work email account. Sometimes I forget to sign into my work email, but I usually remember.
It doesn’t matter if I’ve been emailed a new project to start working on or not b/c I never immediately begin working on it. I check my blog, I check my gmail, I check Tumblr, I check Facebook, I check Twitter and then I go through all the blogs I follow on google reader. Then I update Twitter, respond to people on Facebook or write “happy birthday” on their wall if it’s, ya know, their birthday, and then I sign in to gchat. Once on gchat I say hey to all my friends who are online and we talk about what we did on the previous night and what we’re doing today and tonight and for the rest of the week. We share cool/funny website links we’ve found earlier that day, talk about how work pretty much blows, and then it’s almost like a mutual understanding that now… it is time… that we actually got some work done and pause our chat for a while. Sometimes we’ll have meetings to go to or lunch will interrupt our conversation.
Instead of getting down to business this is usually when I write my Project Grace of the day. Then I check google reader again. Then I see if anyone has responded to me via Twitter or Facebook.
Then I get bored. Working on work is of course always an option but I get even more bored thinking about it so I usually try to remember what I had meant to blog about for the day. At night when I’m in bed before I fall asleep, hundreds of thoughts stream through my head and I always mean to write them down b/c they are great blogging topics. I usually don’t write them down though; instead I waste away time at work trying to recall what I was thinking about the night before while in my half awake half asleep state.
Distractions were not on my mind last night; however it occured to me today that without all these freagin distractions… I might actually be a decent little worker Bee. What if Honey Bees had internet and blogged and Twittered and stuff? Would be have as much honey as we currently do? Would some Honey Bees rebel and buzz, “I’m too special and creative for this honey making bullshit! I hate collecting nectar and pollen from flowers! I have so much more to offer than this! I just wanna be free to fly and buzz around wherever I want! I quit!”??? If you followed a Honey Bee on Twitter would they have updates like, “Just gathered a bunch of pollen and nectar from a rosemary plant. On my way back to the hive to deliver the goods and then I’m off to do it all over again. FML.”or, “Today the queen had a worker bee come and tell me that if I don’t start collecting my fair share of nectar and pollen I’ll be kicked out of the colony. The worker bee was my mom. FML.”??
How much has the Internet really helped productivity?
God
