A hallmark moment

For years now, my inbox has been repeatedly bombarded by "forwards". Some are funny, or entertaining, but most range from cloyingly emotional to downright appalling.

Most, if not all of these come from heterosexual female family members. The worst offenders are those to whom such things appeal. The infamous (and false) "poem by a dying girl with cancer" exhorting us to 'dance while we can' was once of the most recent.

In defense, I refuse to forward these emails, no matter what illfortune is threatened if I don't, and I have repeatedly asked people to stop sending them. Now, I understand that our education system is not what it once was, but honestly, is it so much harder to compose an email if one really wants to remain in contact with me? Even a one-liner, such as I exchange with my forward-refraining Aunt: "found this free thing, want it?".

But no, the forwards continue to arrive, and the amount of vitriol which follows my attempts to stop them continued to astound me - until today.

The forward is the new hallmark card. Which is why I don't understand or apreciate it. It is also why those whose forwards I have refused are so personally offended.

I have never understood the appeal of sentimental cards, and resent being given them, since those who give them often expect me to read them aloud. (As an aside, when I joined Spouse One's family, it was a shock to see that I was expected to read and respond to the sentiment on a card.) I always saw cards as a kind of name tag for a gift, and unless there was something handwritten in it, or, as in my younger days, money, I never gave it a second thought.

Dirty Little Secret

I watch Medium.

There, I said it. I have confessed to being someone who watches Medium. Not because it could be true, and not because I believe in that kind of thing, but purely for the enjoyment of it. I know it's crap TV. I also know that it supports superstition and belief, two things that I would love to see eradicated in my lifetime. And yet... It's thrilling, and fascinating, and ties into that whole primal fear of the dark, and of the unknown. I should know, I'm the person who leaves the bathroom light on at night because I'm scared of the dark.