Most people understand yoga (Ashtanga or otherwise) to be is a series of postures performed to increase strength and flexibility. This assumption is not incorrect. Yoga postures, also known as asanas, do strengthen the body, improve balance and posture and increase flexibility, and no practitioner would dispute their ability to focus the mind and connect with the body. However, for some practitioners, asanas are just a small fraction of a yoga practice.

The Role of Asanas in Ashtanga Yoga

For serious practitioners of Ashtanga Yoga, asanas serve as preparation to stabilize and control the mind, which one, of many, steps along the “the path of internal purification for revealing the Universal Self,” which is the ultimate goal of this practice, and for some yogi’s and yogini’s (female practitioners), the ultimate goal of life. Heavy ;)

The Yoga Sutras and the Eight Limbs of Yoga

The role of asanas are laid out in the Yoga Sutras, and ancient Indian text that describes the mental and spiritual foundations of yoga, and outlines the “eight limbs” of yoga from which “Ashtanga” Yoga derives its name; the Sanskrit word literally translates to “eight limbs.”

Each of the eight limbs relates to one aspect of achieving a healthy and fulfilling life, ideally reaching personal enlightenment; and each limb builds upon the one before and is complemented by the one after (much like the nearly 75 postures in an Ashtanga class, but that’s another post.)

The Eight Limbs are outlined very briefly below:

1. Yama: consists of five ethical guidelines regarding moral behavior including nonviolence and truthfulness.
2. Niyama: consists of five ethical guidelines regarding moral behavior towards oneself, including self-study and cleanliness.
3. Asana: the practice of yoga postures.
4. Pranayama: the practice of breathing exercises.
5. Pratyahara: Withdrawal of the senses so that the exterior world is no longer a distraction from the interior world within oneself.
6. Dharana: Concentration, meaning the ability to focus on something uninterrupted by external distractions.
7. Dhyana: unfocused (all encompassing) Meditation.
8. Samadhi: Bliss. The transcendence of the self through meditation; The merging of the self with the universe. This stage is sometimes translated as enlightenment.

As you can see, Asanas (the postures we commonly associate with yoga) are just one of these eight limbs.

Personal Practice
In my personal practice, I’m coming at this from a beginner’s perspective. For now, my focus will be primarily physical, working within the Asana and Pranayama branches. Many students come to practice this way, which seems an appropriate fit given that asanas were first practiced in order to prepare yogi’s to sit, or stand, for very long periods of time in meditation. (See yoga dude below:)

Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, the founder of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga, has been quoted saying that it is “not possible to practice the limbs … when the body and sense organs are weak and haunted by obstacles. A person must first take up daily asana practice to make the body strong and healthy. With the body and sense organs thus stabilized, the mind can be steady and controlled.” Simply put, you must connect with your body before you attempt to connect with your mind.

A Beginner’s Perspective

I haven’t studied Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, I don’t yet practice daily, I have not gone through an extensive teacher-training program, and I have only been practicing regularly for a few months now. However, my curiosity has been piqued and I hope to chronicle my experiences as a beginner to this ancient practice, as well as my research about the practice (from history to specific poses, breath work to body locks).

That said, I don’t currently attend my Ashtanga classes with any aspirations of revealing the Universal Self (I’m hoping that’s one of those things that just… hits you). But, I am truly beginning to learn something new about myself every day. Whether it’s relative to this mind/body/universal self connection or to a new flexibility in my ankles, Ashtanga yoga teaches me something every time I practice; and right now that is enough for me. Hopefully when the Universal Self (that scamp) catches up with me, I’ll be ready.

Potentially Related posts

• Fail Whale Pale Ale Label Contest Submission (0)
• I frequently suffer from OBDORMITION, how about you? (0)
• Halloween Indecision 2007 (1)
• Webcomic Update! YAY! (0)
• That had to hurt (0)

My uncle Walter is on the front lawn. I did not say in the front lawn, because that would imply that he is out there doing something – looking for lost keys, maybe, or digging up earthworms for bait. But I said on the front lawn because he’s not doing anything, just lying on his back. He’s been out there all night.

My uncle Walter pops in and out of our lives every few years . He’ll show up in the summer, when the Florida heat gets too bad, stay for a few months and leave when school starts. This time he showed up on a buggy evening in June, in an old RV that he parked it in the dirt side of our driveway and that he insists on sleeping in every night, even though Mom said he could sleep on the pull-out. He brought fresh-Florida oranges in big wooden crates, but now there are big “Florida bugs” creeping around our kitchen.

My brother doesn’t really like Uncle Walter, because he calls him “Abe” instead of “Gabe” and because sometimes he’s bossy, but now Dad has somebody to go fishing with and sometimes my Dad and Uncle Walter will stay out on the porch until really late, drinking beers from a can and laughing and smoking their pipes.

Uncle Walter isn’t really my uncle. He’s my Grandmother’s adopted brother. I guess he’d be my great uncle, if he were actually my uncle. But really, Uncle Walter is an old man and I don’t think he has anywhere else to go; so now he is on our front lawn, covered in morning dew and mosquito bites, squinting at the rising sun.

We hadn’t seen my Uncle Walter for a few years before he showed up that day in June, and when we don’t see Uncle Walter, we don’t hear from him either. But he filled us in. He had a trailer near the Everglades in Florida, and his own plot of land. He got by on his retirement savings, but worked at the state liquor store for the insurance which he needed because he had gotten prostate cancer. He was two years in remission now, he explained, and thought a dose of the New Hampshire air would “do him good. “

My mother is pacing around the kitchen now, looking out the window with every other step. Uncle Walter’s white undershirt is wet with dew and it clings to his fleshy pink belly. His steel blue eyes are open and even from the window you can see the sunlight glinting off them. His huge stomach heaves up and down with his breath.

My mother turns away from the window and leans against the sink. She tells me and my brother that Uncle Walter believes his cancer to be back. He says he can feel it, she explains, though he hasn’t been to see the doctor. My uncle Walter takes one more long inhalation of New Hampshire air, sweet with rotting leaves, soil and left-over pipe tobacco and rises. He studies his mosquito-bitten arms and starts toward his RV.

He turns to the house to see all of us looking out the window. “Just heading to the store,” he calls. I watch his RV pull awkwardly out of the driveway and I know that it is the last time I will ever see my Uncle Walter.

Potentially Related posts

• PC Game Trailer of Swankness: Aquaria (0)
• Top Magazine Covers of 2007 (2)
• This Just In: Seaking Popular for WAY Longer than Mudkips (0)
• Web App Day for RKNet! (0)
• Day Dreams of a BioTech Future (1)

Advanced Ashtanga Yoga Practitioner - original source http://www.burrenyoga.com/

I wont lie. I began attending the Ashtanga class at my yoga studio because I had heard it was a workout (see above). If you’re a yogi, I know this sounds blasphemous. Any true Asthanga practitioner will tell you that the practice can, and should, be so much more – a purification of the mind and central nervous system, a detoxification of the blood and massage of the internal organs, an awakening of one’s energy channels…blah blah blah. [Or so I thought.]

All I knew was that Ashtanga had been described to me as a “vigorous” form of yoga designed to produce a “purifying sweat.”

I began my Ashtanga practice for reasons much less noble than what I later learned many practitioners believe: that Ashtanga is “the path of internal purification for revealing the Universal Self.” Not me. I was motivated by a strong sense of vanity and a dislike of jogging.

Class opened with a Sanskrit chant:

vande gurūṇāṁ caraṇāravinde saṁdarśitasvātmasukhāvabodhe
niḥ śreyase jāṅ̇galikāyamāne saṁsāra hālāhala mohaśāntyai
ābāhu puruṣākāraṁ śaṅ̇khacakrāsi dhāriṇam
sahasra śirasaṁ śvetam praṇamāmi patañjalim

Which, I later learned, roughly translates to:

I bow to the lotus feet of the gurus,
The awakening happiness of one’s own self revealed,
Beyond better, acting like the jungle physician,
Pacifying delusion, the poison of samsara.
Taking the form of a man to the shoulders,
Holding a conch, a discus, and a sword,
One thousand heads white,
To Patanjali, I salute.

Have I scared you off yet? Don’t go. Ashtanga Yoga follows a strict set of philosophies, which I will attempt to study and chronicle in this ongoing series, but the beauty of attending class is that each session is what you want it to be. Just as you are welcomed to subscribe to the philosophies of Ashtanga, you are welcome not to.

If the above chant seems a little abstract, well, that’s because it is. But, the more I begin to explore the philosophies of Ashtanga, the clearer it becomes, and the more fascinated I get. I’ll attempt to dissect the above mantra (10th grade English style) in context of the philosophy and postures for one of the upcoming posts in this series.

First Class

At my first class, I did not chant. But I did sweat. A lot. After chanting come the vinyasas. A Vinyasa is a sequence of postures (essentially a sun salutation) designed to warm and awaken the body. You will perform dozens of vinyasas in your average Ashtanga class, and most open with at least eight repetitions of the sequence.

What that really means is that within the first ten minutes I was sweating bullets. After the vinyasas we began to move through the Ashtanga Primary Series, which is a strict set of postures that, traditionally, do not vary from class to class. Each posture is designed to complement the one before and after it, so the resulting practice becomes one of a deep exploration of the body.

Uh oh. Yoga speak. What I mean to say is that each posture leads into the next, meaning that your muscles become increasingly warm and flexible, allowing you to move into poses you might never have thought possible. Perhaps your blood is even thinning. (We’ll get to that in another post).

Goals

In this series I will attempt to study the Ashtanga philosophies alongside the asanas (postures). I hope to serve as both an informational and personal/anecdotal resource on Ashtanga Yoga. I am a new student of the practice myself, so please feel free to comment, correct or collaborate!

Potentially Related posts

• <strike>Censorship</strike> (0)
• Couple Goodies (0)
• Widowmaker — Review on “Punisher: War Zone” (0)
• Speaking of Control… (0)
• Learning and Reimagining the Tarot: Introduction (3)

In the very early morning in the fall of 1979 a particular beach along the Aegean Sea in Athens is nearly deserted. You have not yet slept, as your crew-mates have gotten ahold of your judgment once again, and you have been out all night. But you are alone now, and the soft pink horizon gives context to your solitude. You stroll the shoreline, smoking a cigarette, thinking of home and taking stock of the day ahead of you, when, in an instant, your life changes forever.

You are not hit with a meteor, nor are you shot in the back by an enemy, mauled by a wild dog, or swallowed whole by a shark. You do not have a heart attack, or a stroke or a spasm in your back that causes permanent paralysis and a slack jaw. You have no epiphany. What you do have, suddenly, is a woman.

Thin and birdlike, she balances on one leg to wash her feet in a tide-pool of cold salt water. She has not yet noticed you, and she goes about her washing as if she could be doing anything at all. There is nothing deliberate about her movements; it is as if she is simply an extension of the morning fog around her, supported each moment only by her flexibility to the changing whims of the air.

When she notices you she stops and lowers her foot so that when you approach her she is standing up to her knees in Mediterranean salt water. You begin to speak, though you can’t imagine now what you’d try to say, but she shakes her head. She is not Greek. You had already guessed by her fair skin.

Do you speak English? You fumble for the words. Your hands seem light, fluttering like dusty moths around your sunlit face as you try to explain: no, not really, just a little – a little English. She smiles slowly at you, at once thoughtful and amused, but not a bit wary. She says, “Maybe I should teach you.”

Twenty years from now, in a fit of defeat after being laid-off, you will tell her that you hate her. You will suffer and rage and, in private, you will cry. You will smoke too many cigarettes, drink too much bad American beer, and you will replay in your head, over and over again, how to tell your children that you are leaving; you are going back to Egypt.

Once, you even begin to pack your things, methodically filling up a large black suitcase. You iron and fold your shirts, trousers and even your socks; you pack your Koran, a photo album and your Aramis cologne. Then you venture into the damp basement to rummage through boxes of your old life, grasping at mementos to bring into your new one.

And while you are rummaging, you come across the notebooks. Dozens of them; the English alphabet over and over, tiny drawings to illustrate meaning, notes in the margins, letters, numbers, words and eventually sentences and paragraphs, her handwriting first, then yours below. And you remember her patience, her care, and you remember that she is as stuck as you are.

And you don’t leave. And you don’t hate her, that girl who washed her feet. What you hate is your American life – your small town in rural New Hampshire, your musty basement, your gray Pontiac sunbird with the CB radio; your polo shirts, nametag, cable TV, and, though you are now a Citizen, you have grown to hate Americans and the way they look at you.

Your hate makes you angry, but, after a while, it also makes you grateful. Those notebooks remind you that she too, your wife, lives the same (not really so terrible) life, and that she has never ever stopped trying.

And when you fall in love with her again (for, you’re beginning to realize, it happens over and over,) you will try to forget how you ever hated her and you will remember that first morning on the beaches of Athens when you began to know love.

Potentially Related posts

• Ashtanga Yoga: The Role of Asanas, and a Very Brief Background/History (6)
• A Sailor and His Foot (0)
• RKNet’s Weird Tales: Sleeper. (1)
• Words to Know: Anarchist’s Dictionary Edition #1 (0)
• Winter Depression (0)

I’ve been super stressed at work lately. When that happens, I’m especially prone to feeling the tension in my neck and back. It feels tight, almost clogged- as if the stress of my day-to-day has actually congealed in and around my spine. I’ll feel sluggish, get headaches and even feel sick to my stomach. Simply put, when I’m stressed, my body is not a happy camper.

Lately though, I’ve taken to trying to practice a little yoga, every day. Whether it’s a few simple sun-salutations when I wake up, or a full-out power yoga session- I notice the difference all day long. I’m already getting fewer headaches, my neck hurts less and I’m able to sleep better. Best of all, I feel energized for hours afterward. Yoga has even replaced my daily evening naps!

I started it as a stress reliever, but, as I advanced from basic stretching postures to more advanced holds, I began to recognize the effect it was having on my body as well. My muscles feel stronger, my stomach- tighter. Even my posture has improved! I’m not really one for the gym, but having my Yoga Mat spread next to by bed beckons me to exercise every day. Even my cats cant resist stopping for a stretch!

Suddenly I was fitting in crunches, push-ups and leg-lifts in between sun-salutations, and I’ve added a weighted ball to make some postures harder, and improve my muscle strength. For me, yoga is becoming something of a cure-all. It’s my method of relaxation as well as my daily-exercise. It’s my headache medicine, as well as my coffee. I’m falling in love with yoga- hippy dippy chatter and all. I no longer giggle when my yogadownload instructor tells me to melt into my mat, breathe into my hips or feel the weight of my floor beneath me. Sure, my boyfriend chuckles– but I’m the one who rises from my mat 20 minutes later feeling like a new woman.

If you’re interested in giving yoga a shot, start slowly with a few morning sun-salutations.

Here are the basic steps:

1. Stand with feet together, arms held palm to palm at the center of your chest
2. As you inhale, raise your arms upward, reaching your fingertips to the sky. Slowly bend slightly backwards- stretching your arms above your head.
3. Bend forward as you slowly exhale. Try to touch the floor with your fingertips. Bring your nose to your knees.
4. Inhale and take a wide step backward with your right leg, keeping your hands on the ground- left foot between hands. You should be in a low-lunge. Raise your head to the sky.
5. Exhale and bring your left foot back. Push arms straight and hang head between elbows. Raise hips. Your body should form an upward arch or triangle. You are now in Downward Facing Dog- one of yoga’s staple postures. Breathe here for a moment.
6. Exhale and lower your body to the floor very slowly (work those arms!) until your feet, knees hands, chest and forehead are touching the ground.
7. Inhale and slowly raise your head as you bend backward as much as possible. This pose is called Upward Facing Dog.
8. Exhale and curl your toes under. Push back up into Downward Facing Dog.
9. Inhale and step your left leg back, keeping your right foot between your hands. You are now in your low lunge. Raise your head.
10. Exhale slowly as you rise and bend forward, grazing the mat with your fingertips.
11. Inhale, roll up (one vertebrae at a time) and stretch your arms back.
12. Return to center, standing tall with your palms together at your sternum.

That’s one sun-salutation! (Each posture in the image above pertains to a step, in order, in case you need a visual). Give it a try. I guarantee you’ll feel better- and if you stick with it- you can even burn some serious calories!

Potentially Related posts

• Sometimes I news Blog too! (0)
• Epic Dream Post (0)
• This Just In: Seaking Popular for WAY Longer than Mudkips (0)
• More Reasons to Hate Your Job: Office Snapshots (1)
• Pirate Bay Wants Sealand (0)

Perhaps its my intimate exposure to many things “internet marketing,” (I’m an SEO copywriter and, when I feel like bragging, amateur strategist) but lately it seems all I hear about is Social Media Marketing. From articles detailing how Twitter, Facebook and Delicious can help optimize your business or website, to blog-posts scolding SEO’s for incorporating self-promotional links on their respective Social Media outlets, it seems everyone’s got an opinion about the role of online social networking in the ever-evolving field of internet marketing. Now, I’m not going to get into my thoughts on the already existing methods of online marketing via social networking (that’s a whole ‘nother blog-post). I am, however, offering up a prediction.

Everyone knows the power of backlinks (when sites of authority, like Facebook, point links to your site), and even the dinosaurs of the marketing world will tout the power of branding. When Social Media networks like Facebook enter the fray, an interesting form of social media internet marketing is set to occur.

Look through your Facebook photos. If you’re under the age of 35, or have been on Facebook for more than a few months, you’ve likely got some “party pics.” At the very least, there’s a shot of you holding a bottle of your favorite beer. Now, imagine turning that bottle just slightly to the left. That’s right. Label facing out. Now tag that photo. Imagine if you could get paid for every clicked (or viewed) photo-link where you happened to be promoting a product. Is that an American Eagle sweatshirt you’re wearing? If, say, 85% of the label is showing, tag that sucker and reap the click-throughs.

It’s kind of a creepy thought, and it reeks of sell-out, but, it’s plausible, no?

Now, I’ll be honest. I’m not clear on the details. I don’t yet have a well-rounded grasp of how the transactions would take place. I don’t know what percentage of profits from any given page-view or click a participator would be due. I don’t even know if, logistically, it would work. But, it’s an idea I’ve been playing with for some time now, and I thought I’d offer it up for discussion. I’d love to hear what you think about this new potential rung on the social media ladder- even if you think it’s the stupidest thing since The Hills.

Potentially Related posts

• What I Waste My Time On (2)
• X Faces and The 5 Myspace User Types (2)
• In Soviet Russia Forum Desu Floods You! (6)
• Complete Beginner’s Guide to Goetia (2)
• Tay Zonday: Dollar Dollar Bills, Y’all (4)

Like the rest of us, I’ve been hit by the daily-worsening economy. That’s initially why I started cooking for myself. Well, that and my softening belly. It takes a little while to build up an affordable, usable supply of kitchen necessities (that first-time plunge for the $8 olive-oil is tough) but ultimately, it’s worth it. And now that I’ve got the basics (everyday spices, garlic press, and a few kitchen utensils), I’m saving literally hundreds a month, and I’ve lost about 10 pounds. So, I thought I’d share just a couple of my favorite recipes in hopes that you’ll share some with me!

Very Basic Kusherie

This is a vegetarian Egyptian dish that my Dad used to make for us. It’s delicious, healthy and super simple.

Ingredients:

Dish:

• 1 part lentils
• 1 part white (or brown, if you really want) rice
• 1 whole onion
• (optional) chicken, beef or vegetable broth

Sauce:

• 1 small can tomato paste
• 5-6 cloves garlic
• salt, pepper to taste

Directions:

Brown lentils and coarsely chopped onion on medium heat for about 5 minutes. Add water or broth (to package directions). Bring to boil. Add rice and continue to cook (covered) to package directions.

While rice is cooking, puree garlic into a fine paste (my favorite method is to press the garlic, then add salt and grind into a paste with the back of a spoon.) Add tomato paste and garlic to a large saucepan and let flavors infuse for about 5 minutes, over medium heat, stirring frequently. Then gradually add water, stirring, until your sauce is very thin (think tomato-soup thin).

Serve in a bowl with sauce on top. Add pepper to taste. For authenticity’s sake (and because it lends a nice textural element to the dish) use soft pita bread in place of a fork or spoon.

Note: traditional recipes would have you omit the onions from the rice/lentil mixture, and instead top the dish with caramelized onions, but I prefer the subtle flavor they lend inside the dish, over the sweet, tangy effect they’d have caramelized on-top.

Stuffed Tomatoes

Ingredients:

• Tomatoes (on the vine, please)
• 1 Package Lipton Sides Spanish Rice
• 1 Whole Onion
• 5 Sprigs Fresh Dill
• 3 Tbs plain breadcrumbs

Directions:

Preheat over to 350. Cook rice according to package directions. (If you want to go homemade, use white rice, tomato paste and spices to taste). While rice is cooking, cut the tops off tomatoes and hollow them out. Pan fry the onions in a little olive oil until they’re just yellow. When the rice is finished, stir in the onion and dill. Spoon rice mixture into tomatoes and top with a light layer of breadcrumbs. Brush with olive oil and bake for 15-20 minutes.

Note: Substitute zucchinis in place of tomatoes for a new twist.

Fried Cauliflower

OK, OK. These are fried. But they’re sooo damn good, and still super cheap.

Ingredients:

• 1 Cauliflower
• 2 Eggs
• 1/2 Cup Flour
• 3 tbs Water
• 5-6 Cloves Garlic
• 2-3 tbs Olive Oil
• Salt, Pepper to Taste

Directions:

Whisk the eggs, water, salt, pepper and flour in a medium sized bowl to make a batter. Puree garlic (using method described above) with salt and the back of a spoon to make a paste. Whisk into batter until well-combined. Heat olive-oil in medium heat. Break cauliflower florets into small florets and drop into batter. Pan fry battered cauliflower until golden brown. Set in just-warmed oven on a ceramic plate and paper towel to drain. Serve warm.

So, there are a couple of my favorites. I hope you’ll find them savory and satisfying! My next post will detail some of my favorite, non-vegetarian dishes! Enjoy!

Potentially Related posts

• No related posts.

I recently read an article on GOOD.is entitled “The Art of the Status Update.” The article was interesting and seemed relevant, in light of a recent post I’d written about the Top Ten Facebook Offenders.

Perhaps I’d been too hard on Facebookers in condemning the “self-indulgence” that users of any social-media outlet are often prone to. I called the worst offenders “oversharers, braggarts and passive-aggressive.” The author of this article, it seems, has an opposite view of Facebook’s notorious “status update.”

Anne Trubek summed up her views in the article’s title. In describing the status update as an “art,” she puts a euphemistic spin on my otherwise negative interpretation of this form of self-expression. The author has divided status updates into four categories:

• The Prosaic, which describes exactly what the author is doing (ie. Amy is watching Top Chef).
• The Informative, in which the author uses the status update as a medium for sharing information (ie. Amy wants you to check out this article on Global Warming).
• The Clever or Funny, which is fairly self-explanatory and might say something like: Amy thinks taco bell slipped a tiny circus, complete with clown car, into her burrito. Ughhh.
• The Nonsensical, in which the author indulges his or her most poetic sensibilities (ie. Amy wishes she could melt away with all the snow).

The author views the status update, with its limited number of characters and strict, uniform structure (status updates, by default, begin with the author’s name) as its own literary form- a kind of craft, like a haiku.

While I think this gives a bit too much credit to those individuals who like to use their status updates as a way to garner sympathy or play passive aggressive games (my boyfriend’s female friend once wrote “Shelley now remembers why it’s useless to be friends with a boy who has a girlfriend”), I must admit this article sparked my interest.

With more and more people engaging in social media every day (hello, we may as well replace “status update” with “twitter” in this article) people who never considered themselves writers, or even creative, are suddenly taking the time to come up with new and unique ways to express themselves.

The idea of something as trivial and mainstream as Facebook entering into the literary world in one way or another is certainly interesting, albeit a little scary. But the truth is, the web is the way of the world these days. My boyfriend likes to pretend it’s not true with comments like, “why are we wasting time talking about Facebook in the real world?” But the truth is, you can learn a lot through Facebook.

And, after all, what’s wrong with a little self-indulgence once in a while? I’m a writer for crying out-loud. What’s more self-indulgent than that?

Potentially Related posts

• Dredging these up out of interest (0)
• Attention: Finnish Fluency Aid Required! (0)
• Guilt-Free BitTorrent (0)
• Luddite strikes again (0)
• Bullshittin’ With Sketch – Henry Rollins (1)

So. You’ve got a Facebook account. Welcome to the 21st century. Many of us have been here for some time- enjoying relative seclusion from teenage girls and 40 year old men, blinking emoticons and blaring emo-music. But, you had to come sometime, so, welcome.

First thing’s first. Let me introduce to you a few common Facebook characters. Perhaps “characters” is too euphemistic a term. Let me introduce to you a few common Facebook Offenders. These people lurk around the edges of your everyday Facebook experience, throwing snowballs at you or inviting you to watch their cousin’s shitty band. As a veteran member of Facebook, I beg of you, newling: do not become one of them. Knowledge is Power! Please, read on.

10. Girls Who Think They’re on Myspace

If there is one thing I can impress upon you, please, let it be this. You are not on myspace. That means no glittering fairies, no inane surveys where you’ll tell me what color your socks are, no bombarding visitors with that creepy neo-punk you heard on FNX, and no self-indulgent photos of you making sex-eyes at your camera while you lie on a messy bed thereby inviting us to actually feel the rawness of your lonely, pathetic life.

Girls who think they’re on Myspace will make up for Facebook’s lack of “expressive” emoticons by titling their photo albums something like: *~*wat sunshine is 2 flowers, friendship is 2 life*~*. You can be damn sure a Girl Who Thinks She’s on Myspace will have a few “artistic” (probably black and white) photos of herself where she tries to look deep and sexy, but really ends up looking like that lonely dog at the SPCA that no body ever takes home because of his leaky eye and shrill bark. Girls, you’re not on myspace.

9. That Random Kid From High-School

Remember that kid who sat in the back of your biology class poking at the femur of the donated skeleton? Or that cheerleader who liked to wear short shorts with tall socks and put her hair in two buns on top of her head? Well, now that weirdo/dumbass wants to be your friend on Facebook. Guess what? If we didn’t talk to each other in high-school, why the hell would I want to talk to you now? So we can compare stories on how much less we have in common 7 years later? Let’s leave this kind of interaction to awkward nods at the bar, shall we?

8. The Power User

Usually a female under the age of 23, the Power User is Facebook obsessed. You can count her wall-posts on any given day to see them in the double digits. She’s commenting on people’s photos before they’re tagged, recording videos on her friend’s walls, and even carrying on very-public feuds with her arch enemy- the other Power User who’s roommate totally saw what you said on Dan’s picture about her. The Power-User will have upwards of 30 photo-albums all tagged and captioned within 24 hours of any given event. You can spot a Power User by her lack of punctuation, capitalization (who has time for those things) and her propensityyy to drawww outttt wordssss!

7. The Camera Whore

Often goes hand-in-hand with the Power User (remember, these categories aren’t mutually-exclusive), the Camera Whore loves taking pictures of her (or him) self. She has perfected the single-arm camera shot and can hold her smile for a record-breaking 45 seconds. The Camera Whore will, of course, have several hundred photos of herself, in varying poses, many of which will have been taken by herself. The Camera Whore takes every picture with the hope that it will become his or her new profile photo and will call out “Facebook!” when a particularly good one is taken.

6. Moms

OK, don’t get me wrong. Every body loves Moms. They’re cute, funny, and just want to feel more a part of their child’s life. So, they get a Facebook account. Mom’s on Facebook are great, in theory. They’ll leave you little messages on your wall, much like the notes you used to get in your lunch box that you’d hide from your friends. They’ll even post cute pictures from your childhood that you’ve secretly always wanted to put up, but felt it would look too vain.

However, it’s when Moms begin perusing your photographs and wall-posts that you need to worry. Because, Mom saw when Katie asked if you wanted to skip class and smoke blunts. Mom saw that picture of you on the toilet with your pants around your ankles and the trashcan in your lap. Mom saw you funneling PBR and blowing smoke rings. Mom lingered a moment too long on your girlfriend’s heaving cleavage. In short, Mom saw it all. Moms, if you wanna be on Facebook, don’t judge!

5. The Promoters

Ah, the Promoters. Promoters are always bombarding you with requests for your time. They always want you to go see their shitty modern-rock band at the local bar, or donate to their Run for Arthritis. Maybe the Promoters want you to stop by the coffee shop for their short-story reading, or that hip down-town lounge for their poetry slam. However the Promoters manifest themselves, it’s never something you want to do. How did they even get your information?

4. The Gamers

The Gamers often run with the Power Users. They’ve got dozens of boxes and applications cluttering up their page, and they always want you to join in the retardation. They’ll throw snowballs at you, or slap you in the face, kidnap you or declare you their drinking buddy. They’ll ask you to take quizzes like “which 50′s pinup are you?”, “what kind of kisser are you?” , “or what mixed drink are you?” The Gamers don’t actually give a shit if you’re a martini or a gin & tonic, but the only way to find out if they’re the jello-shot like they’ve been hoping, is to bombard you and everyone else on their list to waste time turning each other into zombies.

3. The Righteous

The Righteous always think they’ve got some grand purpose. They’re here to educate the masses. The Righteous will post articles about Global Warming or why there is no God. They’ll write notes speculating the cost of President Obama’s new tie. They’ll ask you to join causes which promise to donate money for every 100 people who join, and they’ll always have some some link in their profile to prove that they’re only on Facebook to enlighten the rest of us.

2. The Oversharer/ The Passive-Aggressive/ The Braggart

These people looooove their status messages. They want you to know exactly what they’re having for dinner, how drunk they got last night, or how they can’t believe they got a 4.0 this semester! The Oversharer knows no bounds, and has no shame. Her status updates will say something like “Kelley is.. waiting for him 2 call back b/c she doesn’t need any more drama.” Or “Miranda is… drinking alone because feeling drunk is better than feeling nothing at all.” The Oversharers are the queens (and kings) of shameless self-indulgence and get off on using a public forum to garner sympathy, or talk shit. Oh, and the Oversharer has no problem referring to herself in the third person.

And the #1 Facebook offender?

1. Your Shirtless Brother (or Cleavaged Sister)

Aw. C’mon Bro! Nobody wants to see that!

So. There you have it. Use this information wisely, my friends. Don’t be a Facebook Offender. You were meant for better things.

Potentially Related posts

• No related posts.

Incredibly awkward moments are my specialty. Take this morning for example. While browsing around on MSN.com, settling in to my morning routine, I stumbled across a byline that made me laugh out loud. Here- I’ve taken a screenshot:

Ahahahahah! Those dumbasses! As my friend Glen noted, there should be a “that’s-what-she-said” editor- someone to be on the lookout for varying forms of crassly intrepreted newsspeak. Alas, my future career has not yet been created- so sue me for doing a little freelance work!

I naturally took a screenshot (above) and subtly pointed out their mistake. Then I emailed said picture to a few of my colleagues, and we had a good laugh. Give us a break. It was early, and we’re immature. So boisterous, perhaps, was our snickering that the normally quiet dude who sits in the back of our office (a guy old enough to be our grandfather) became curious. “Whatcha guys laughing at?” the sweet older man asked, arising from his chair. “I’ve gotta see.”

Now, this older character (we’ll call him Earl), is likely one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. Quiet polite and always smiling, mustached Earl just moved into our room from his own, previously private office. He generally keeps to himself, and we try not to bother him. Did I mention Earl is the husband of the vice-president of our company. Oh, that too. So, that’s Earl. And he’s coming this way.

I froze, stammered, “uh. um. oh- okay. Yeah.” And before I knew it, kindly old Earl was standing behind me, leaning down and reading my screen over my shoulder. After a moment he turned to me and said “I’m not sure I get it.” I couldn’t respond. My hands fluttered over the mouse and I began to laugh the laugh of giddy hopelessness. I raised my palms. A peace offering. After a moment, Earl arose to go back to his seat. “Oh!” he said, turning back to me in a moment of realization. “Oh, I get it,” he said, Flashing me a thumbs up, as he strolled back to his desk . “Inaugural Balls…right? Obama’s got balls.”

Potentially Related posts

• At First I Was Like… But Then, I LOL’d! (0)
• Imitation Still Is the Sincerest Form of Flattery (0)
• Update: URLTea NOT Dead?? (2)
• I MAED A R3V13W OF A I MAED A GAM3 W1TH Z0MBIES (IN IT)!!!1 (1)
• Design-a-Vagina Contest Redux Closed (0)