Tag Archives: Sometimes I feel that Twitterverse and Blogosphere are like the Tree of Souls in Avatar or maybe it’s just crazy talk

On Facebook’s “On this Day” and Nostalgia

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Dear Mark Z, congratulations on the new baby. And kudos for knowing Chinese. I’ve just added you to the list of “See? These people can learn to speak Chinese. Why can’t you?” to show my kids. Oh, don’t worry. I am not asking you for money like Kanye West just did. To be fair though, he’s also asked Larry Page for help.

Kanye West tweets

I know you don’t use Twitter. Aww. How quaint. But Kanye’s Tweet is the best parody account there is. He’s a parody of himself, a mirror reflecting back on a mirage, a meme of a meme. This somehow makes him the realest paradoxically.

Is your birthday really on Valentine’s Day? That’s a pretty cool thing to include as “The three things about myself that most people don’t know” when you have to do one of those awkward get-to-know-you self introductions.

I am rambling. You are so easy to talk to.

All I set out to write is this: STOP FUCKING SHOWING ME MY “FACEBOOK MEMORIES”!

Seeing pictures from a year ago does not make me happy. The more years it has transpired, the more depressing they are. I have peaked a long time ago. My life has since been going downhill. Those memories mock me for having wasted another year of my life with nothing to show for. (You’ll have to agree that Facebook posts do not amount to “things to show for”).

They are signposts, marking my march downward.

When I see “On this day,” I inadvertently think to myself, “Yup. And ON THIS VERY DAY, I am crying for all the wasted breath I’ve taken and what have I done and I should go jump off a bridge.” Pass the donuts.

Did you know that in the 17th to 19th century, nostalgia was considered a psychopathological disorder? I bet you don’t. I bet you are not a very nostalgic person either. Most winners of life aren’t. So thank you for pushing to cause a global pandemic of nostalgia with this fancy Facebook feature while you yourself has nothing but the future to look forward to.

In Greek nostalgia literally means “the pain from an old wound.” It’s a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards… it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It let’s us travel the way a child travels – around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved. — Don Draper

And we all know what that place is.

Facebook.

Nice try.

Why We Blog

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He was a lonely ghost uttering a truth that nobody would ever hear. But so long as he uttered it, in some obscure way the continuity was not broken. It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that you carried on the human heritage.   George Orwell, 1984

 

Every once in a while, I have to pause and ask myself, “Why bother doing this? Why blog?” IF I am honest when I say, “I don’t really care if anybody reads these words,” why is keeping a journal not enough for me?

For starters, I have never succeeded in keeping a journal. I must have accumulated dozens of journals with scribbles only on the first few pages: my handwriting progressively became sloppier, and the word counts less, until … blank. Blank. Blank.

So am I really that narcissistic, as I like to accuse myself of – getting it out of the way before anybody else points this out.

This recurring self-reflexive questioning was put to an end when I came across this Time article, “Like to Brag on Facebook or Twitter? That’s Because Self-Disclosure Is like Eating and Sex, Says Study“. The title itself is self-explanatory.

Intriguingly, the researchers noted a distinction between types of self-disclosure: introspection, or privately thinking about oneself, compared with having the opportunity to share those thoughts with another human being. Again, as expected, while introspection was itself sufficient to light up brain regions associated with reward, the effects were “magnified” when participants believed their thoughts would be communicated to someone else.

 

In this other article, “Why We Talk About Ourselves: The Brain Likes It“, it was spelled out even more explicitly. Here is the paragraph that I have committed to memory as rebuttal against my imaginary accusers:

We love talking about ourselves, we really do — that’s what a group of Harvard neuroscientists found while testing the theory that we’re big on self-disclosure, anyway. In fact, say the scientists, we love self-disclosure so much because it tickles our core value centers in much the same way as “primary rewards” like food and sex.

The researchers noted that people particularly enjoyed self-disclosure if they knew other people were listening. When people were given a choice to share their responses with others or to keep them private, they gave up 25% of their potential earnings in order to broadcast the personal info. “[The] effects were magnified by knowledge that one’s thoughts would be communicated to another person, suggesting that individuals find opportunities to disclose their own thoughts to others to be especially rewarding,” says the study.

 

There you have it.

It is in our psychological make-up, part of the evolutionary outcome. How can you fight that?  In fact, more people should be doing this –

Blogging. It is good for the soul.

And since it is 100% fat free and at no risk of contracting STD, it is good for the body too.

A Love Song for Sandi

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A dear dear friend recently had a medical scare. She is home safe now but I did not know about this until tonight.

Sandi over at Being Peachy and its wicked twin The Pits of Being Peachy had a heart attack and drove herself to the hospital. At this moment I am confused about the sequence of the events since I learned of her heart attack, her subsequent stay in the hospital, and her finally being able to go home all from posts by friends on her Facebook.

Her dear sweet husband, the one that she occasionally makes fun of her on her blogs, posted an update for her today. This post made me laugh, smile and cry at the same time:

Lloyd started by saying, “She is not dead,” on behalf of Sandi, and that’s 100% Sandi. And then Lloyd showed us the reason why someone so beautiful and caring and loving and passionate about life with a big heart and a great sense of humor such as Sandi fell in love with and chose him to spend the rest of her life with:

Thank you for caring about my wife, and my kids. They mean the world to me. Your thoughts, well wishes, tweets, texts, wall posts, and blogs kept her phone going off in my pocket all day long, and I saw her sense of humor coming through in your words.

 

I don’t remember exactly when and how Sandi and I found each other on the Interweb. But as soon as we did, there was an instant bond (forgive me for the cliche…). The first time we exchanged Facebook messages, they were long. Long with lots of run-on sentences like the kind of you wrote back and forth with your best buddies in high school. I fell in love (and trust) with her when she sent me the Friendship Disclaimer which she later turned into a video.

She is nuts. She is passionate. She goes all out for her friends and families. She is fierce. She is kind. She is loving. She is the forces of nature. She is a lady. Woa woa woa she’s a lady.

(Here is the part when you throw your underwears to me on stage. Thank you very much.)

 

She talked me off of a ledge once. Or maybe twice. She created a space on her blog called “You Write Here” for bloggers and non-bloggers who wish to get something off of their chests but for one reason or another they cannot do so openly or even on their own blogs. And most of us did not realize that she has been going through a lot. Much more heartbreaking, much more difficult shit that she has been shouldering than she let on. When I read that post, I was like, “WTF? Why did I bitch about my life in front of her? And why did she not tell me to STFU? Compared to what she has been going through, my life is indeed peachy…”

This event threw me off balance. I KNOW I have come to think of and care about most of you as real friends. But it was not until the shock and the relief that hit me that I realized, WOW. THIS is for realz. What we have going on here. THIS. IS. FOR. REAL.

Dear Sandi, to quote your best bud Anissa, ” NOT dead FTW.” Here is a song for you, “Your Song”, that I stole from Elton John. I don’t think he cares now that he has a baby and should NOT be getting any sleep. So it is YOUR song now. You are welcome.

 

And to continue our cheesy high school girl love affair, I am going to quote you some of the lyrics from YOUR SONG. Are you ready? Ok, here it goes:

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

(And yes, baby, you keep the sun turned on, in addition to many other things…)

A Night with the Band (with Twitter along the way)

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Friday, 22-April-2011

22:03:12 On my way to see the band The Boxer Rebellion that started at 10. It’s 10 now. Am nowhere near Double Door the bar/concert venue. Panic attack

22:04:58 I’m going by myself again. [I went to see them for the first time last September]. With extra tickets. Maybe I’ll give the ticket 2 some random passerby, reassuring them that they don’t have 2 talk 2 me

22:06:38 Forgive me 4 tweeting you sweet nothing nonstop. Going 2 see band by myself. Not yet used 2 it. Started having panic attack early on.

22:09:11 Tweeting helps calm my nerves. Like I have someone w me. Anybody write an academic paper about social media? Invisible Strangers as entourage?

22:11:27 I almost didn’t. Panic attack. Would’ve been easier 2 just stay home. I kept on delaying till husb said, Why are you still here? Get the F out!

22:13:59 It’s just a band. Not a big deal. After the last time [and the first time when I went to see them also by myself], I now know there’s no risk of me having to struggle to say no if a band member asks me to elope with him [because it did not happen and it will never happen, of course.]

[I actually felt quite embarrassed going all gaga when I met them last September for the first time. I think I managed to keep my excitement under wrap, appearing to be nonchalant. Not that it would have made any difference, but all four band members are married. More importantly, they don’t seem to be that kind of band attracting crazy psychotic screaming fans.]

[Fine. I guess telling people that their song “Flashing Red Light Means Go” saved your soul is by no means being nonchalant… How pathetic it was to have failed at being nonchalant in front of your favorite band?]

 

22:42:21 @SunnySingsBlues Thanks! I’m in! One vodka cranberry down and I’m one cool kitty. Inside my head at least!

22:46:47 @SunnySingsBlues Thanks!!! I am on 2nsd Vodka cranberry! [Less than 5 minutes. I was rather impressed by myself too!]

22:59:22 At the Boxer Rebellion concert! Sold out bitches!  [From “OMG I don’t know what to do. I am so scared I don’t want to go!” to rubbing it in people’s faces. All in under one hour…]

 

The Boxer Rebellion at Double Door

 

[From @deathbydonkey: Hope you’re having fun. Solo concert outings can rock if you just go with it. It beats dealing with a non-fan companion, anyway.]

23:14:02 @deathbydonkey OMG. Totally agree!!!!

[And that’s why when The Husband said “Go and have fun by yourself!” I did not cry. I would have been so worried about him or whichever person I managed to drag with me not having fun and unable to fully enjoy the experience]

 

23:14:57 @melme thank you. Tweeps are the best people to go to concert with!!

[From @melme: Damn right!! Woo! Take it off!! 😉 ]

23:28:42 @melme Ok! Let’s just say I did! LOL

 

[Tried not to tweet too much during the concert. Most of the time I had my eyes closed and it felt like I was there all alone, with the band. Just the music pounding, pouring, seeping into every fiber. The most gratifying thing to witness was how much fun they’re having on stage. It almost made me feel jealous. I wish I could play an instrument, or sing, or paint, or sew, just anything really.]

 

Saturday, 23-April 2011

00:24:50 @doubledoor Here’s a shout out to Mark the bartender who loves his job and Andy who’s adorable!!!

[Here I was sufficiently buzzed that I became extremely friendly and talkative, in a non-slutty way, at least I hope so… I was even able to talk to Mark at the bar. Probably because he called me Sweet Heart. I wished him a happy weekend, to that he replied, “I will be working though.” I asked, “But not bad if you love your job, right?” A pause. “Yes, I do love my job.” “Well, that’s more than what a lot of people could say.” He nodded somberly.]

[Regarding “Sweet Heart”: I knew not to get carried away by terms of endearment such as this. That’s merely a sign that I have aged. When you reach a certain age, people start being nice to you and calling you “Sweet heart” “Young lady”, thinking they are doing you a favor. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that.]

00:25:44 I’m at the “I am lucid but I care no shit” stage. 5 vodka cranberry later.

[See? Tru dat!]

 

00:29:50 It’s endearing when the band is small enough that they are at the mercy table to talk to the fans

[It’s supposed to be MERCH, for “merchandise”, table. But the typo was kind of correct in the way that the bands are at the mercy of their fans when they are on their way to make it]

 

 

[They’re really really awesome and sweet. I did tell Todd the lead guitarist (See? I am hinting that I am on the first name basis with the band!) that I am a psychotic fan. ZOMG. I really should have kept my mouth shut. But I cannot control what comes out of my mouth whenever I am nervous. Perhaps next time I should preemptively put my foot in my mouth… He asked me what my Twitter handle was. “So, you are subWOW?!” Ok, he probably did NOT sound that excited. Just let me think that he did, ‘k? He and Piers the drummer (pretended to) remember meeting me last year. See? I told you they are very kind…]

 

Todd and Piers at The Empty Bottle last September

Me as an apparition (last September)

 

[Here’s something else that I told Todd, “I look forward to the day when you are so huge that I would no longer get to talk to you like this.” And I mean it.]

 

00:45:24 Asked the band mebers of @BoxerRebellion to sign my arm, Nathan the lead singer responsibly told me I’d regret it. We shall see.

 

Picture from last time: Todd & the lead Singer Nathan who told me this time that I'd regret having them sign my arm. Nathan's a Southern gentleman, naturally.

 


01:06:15 Do people know, for realz, in details, what they have to give up when they have kids and move to the burbs?

01:08:21 Like a pseudo bipolar that I’m, I’m coming down from the high from talking to my favorite band straight to the pit.

01:09:31 On the train back to the burbs. Feeling like being turned back into a pumpkin. Do men feel the same way too?

[Before I stumbled off the train, I saw this guy with a big giant tattered duffel bag eating peanut butter out of the jar. I have no idea what came over me, not pity nor sympathy. I think it was closer to a sudden surge of love that I felt towards my fellow human beings. I pulled out a $20 bill and handed it to him. “Happy Easter!” I said, and I quickly ran off. He did not even look up but smiled to himself.]

 

[Intermission: Driving. I really did not want to be turned back into a pumpkin…]

 

01:43:06 2 am. At the quintessential American melting place: highway oasis. Here everyone is passing by

 

 

01:46:25 I do appreciate the fact that my husb is ok letting me out by myself being a tramp.

01:48:37 Sitting here at the empty oasis, I’m humming Hallelujah. I’m not even Christian…

01:59:25 I really like the oasis like this: quiet, with free Wi-Fi. I enjoy watching the cars, imaging jumping off. Of course I won’t.

[Did you know this French word, L’appel du vide? “The call of the void” would be the literal translation. It refers to the urge to jump from high places…]

 

02:35:00 Listened to Queen’s A Night at the Opera all the way home. Truly my favorite album. What I would not give to watch Freddie Mercury live.

02:59:18 You know how they made Mama Mia with Abba song? Someone should make a musical based A Night at the Opera.

03:00:50 Why? Yes! I have been sitting in the garage listening to A Night at the Opera since I got home. How did you know?

 

 

 

p.s. I did update the tweets to correct the typos and grammars, update the abbreviations, so it is easier to read and understand.

Hubris, Or, How Blogging/Tweeting Makes Everything Seem Funnier

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Hubris.

In case you are worried that all your kind compliments may have given me an ever-expanding ego, No Worries, my friend…

I emailed several of my Annie Lennox+Sabina-From-The-Unbearable-Lightness-Of-Being inspired photos to The Husband. I got one line in response from him:

What are you planning to do with those pictures?

And this came only after I hollered at him across the room, “Hey, you never said anything about those picture I sent you the other day!”

“What pictures? Oh.”

 

Instead of wielding the knife I was holding at that moment, I actually put it down and picked up my iPhod.

 

Being able to channel my wrath this way actually helped me see things in a very different perspective. As soon as I typed it out inside my head, Click click click. THIS IS SOME FUNNY SHIT! I told myself.

Twitter has saved his life so many times if he only knew. I cannot understand why he has a problem with my Twitter obsession…

 

What is a blogger worth if we cannot live what we preach?

The other day I so smugly quoted Frank Wedekind

Any fool can have bad luck; the art consists in knowing how to exploit it.

 

Oh, I thought I was so witty.

Of course disaster struck. In the form of bubbles.

Did you know that Dawn dish washing liquid is blue just like Jet-Dry?

Did you know that the compartment for rinse agent is built into the dishwasher so there is no way to detach the thing when you need to, say, dump whatever was put inside out?

Did you know that adding dish washing liquid into the rinse agent dispenser instead of Jet-Dry is 10 times worse than using it instead of say, Cascade?

Do you like bubbles?

Did you know that it is a futile attempt to scoop out large quantity of bubbles with a bowl because you cannot easily dump them out, so light and fluffy?

 

Did you know that it took at least 20 rinse cycles and a mountain pile of towels to undo the bubble-producing power of Dawn inside the rinse agent dispenser?

 

The ordeal — I did not go to bed until 4 am — was made easier to stomach because the whole time I was thinking, “Wow. I need to turn this into a blog post!” totally channeling Frank Wedekind.

While I was on my hands and knees wiping the bubbles off from the bottom of the dishwasher after the Nth time, I was narrating my actions inside my head. I felt detached. Somehow it made the whole thing funnier. It got even funnier when I envisioned the narrations on silent movie dialog cards.  Soon I was watching myself in a silent movie, accompanied by piano scores, running around, trying to stop the bubbles from oozing out in vain.

 

 

Hilarity ensued.

 

All this video needs is some nice music from the Twilight Zone series…

Quickly. Group Hug!

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Strangers are just friends waiting to happen. — Rod McKuen

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I almost missed the postscript. And when I first read it, I was upset that he asked for $100 cash! "You little...!" I thought. I burst out laughing when I saw the instruction to Santa. Despite everything, I did not ruin this child. I think.

Dear Friends,

Yes, you dread this moment of sappiness and it has come. No, seriously, I am so blessed to be surrounded by people who show me what the true human spirit of giving and caring is, not just around Christmas, but on a daily basis.

In the past year, I have been fortunate enough to get to know many of you better through words and some, through images (although to my disappointment, nothing risqué. We need to work on that, my friends!), from all over the world. I have been even more fortunate to see a few of you materialize in the real 3D world. Do you know how awesome that is? It means that I would have more than one Cora waiting next to my Ducati right outside of Flynn’s Arcade when I came out of The Grid if I were Sam Flynn.

I am so grateful for the community I have found and become part of that my heart aches every time I think about it. I find it easier for me to breathe and to be myself every day because of this place right here.

I want to wish those who celebrate it a Merry Christmas and those who don’t, a wonderful long weekend and/or vacation. And for my Jewish friends, enjoy the movies and the Chinese! And you know, by Chinese I mean the food, not ME.

And to all, unless you are a Jehovahs Witness, a HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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Remember Showgirls? Nomi says you’ve got to put this flag up and see who salutes

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Boing! <– warning: NSFW

Whoa, mama!

Now I’ve got your attention. This proves that if put in the right context with the right mood implied, ANYTHING you say can be interpreted with a naughty bend. But first, a warning.

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That being said, like a good strip tease, I am going to start with something wholesome… See? Pink roses and fancy china and proper tea time.

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Big Little Wolf over at Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy passed this award to me… this September… Ugh… I did mention before that I am in a P.A. (Procrastinator Anonymous) program right? Thank you for the award. I really appreciate it!

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Next up is an intriguing award from Wendy at Herding Cats in Hammond River. It is British with a distinct British word and should be savored properly in Queen’s English. Since I do have a British-accent-fetish, I enjoy looking in the mirror and saying, “You are bloody brilliant!” and also “Blimey! It is almost 4 months since you’ve received this award. You are a rotten wanker indeed!” Thank you, Wendy!

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Yeah yeah yeah. You are thinking, “Well, one BLOODY does not NC-17 make. It won’t even get you bleeped!” Be patient my lad. Now here come the awards by Rabbit aka Micael over at The [Long] Journey [to the Middle].
Rabbit said to take one or all. I couldn’t choose so I took all three. I am NOT being greedy just indecisive…

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This one is rated PG…

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This is all a big tease, isn’t it? Not so… Quick! Earmuffs!

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This award is NOT censored on my blog and it is still fucking awesome!

But wait, there is MORE!

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Are you ready for this? I simply HAD to share this award with you because I do like me some good licking and besides, Nomi says so…

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So step right up! All of you. Please. Because a 10-inch dick is simply too fucking awesome to not be passed around!

AND I would like to give this award back to Micael because he totally deserves it — I hope I just succeeded in finding a loophole for a blogger to accept and display an award that they created…

I know what you are thinking. You are going to be coy. You are going to be humble. I understand. I’d behave the same way if suddenly  a 10-inch-dick award were to be thrust in front of my face.

How about this: How about if we do this for charity? For anybody that brings Nomi home to their blog, a dollar will go to The Global Fund, and another dollar will go to The Trevor Project.*

Do it for Nomi. Do it for the children. And do it, for goodness sake, for the Great 10-inch Dick!

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* Disclaimer 1: I am NO saint. This is in our annual household budget anyway. I know it is uncouth to talk about one’s own charity giving; on the other hand, I do not want to be disingenuous and pretend that I am doing anything extra.

* Disclaimer of the Disclaimer: In the unlikely event that more than the usual number of people come by my blog (Unlikely because Thanksgiving is over and people have stopped searching for turkey and landing here), there IS a certain cap to the Bring Nomi Home campaign. I hope you understand.

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Linlah @ Corn-Bean brought Nomi home and had a great time with her on the stripper pole. I know you want to do it too!

Micael @ The (Long) Journey (to the Middle), Nomi’s creator, was reunited with Nomi on his side bar (Ok. This sounds disturbing for some reason… But it is really all legit…)

Holly aka Midwestern Mamah @ ARE YOU SERIOUS? (yes, it has got to be all CAPS. That’s how I hear it every time I visit her blog…) has put up Nomi right in her living room. Nothing speaks of holiday cheer than a show girl licking the stripper pole.

Wicked Shawn @ Wicked Girls Think It, Do You? (yes, I do I do!) had some technical difficulty at her house so they ended up doing it on the beach. (By doing it, I meant the PARTY. What?)

“Duff Diddy” @ Dufmanno’s Blog (yeah, I have no idea what Dufmmano means either. Go ask her yourself!) needs a 10-inch dick to complete her fancy tea party and we sent Nomi over to deliver the award. I haven’t heard back from Nomi yet. I guess the tea went long. *wink wink*

The Peach @ Being Peachy is being a peach by setting up Nomi in a gorgeous trailer complete with jacuzzi, heart-shaped bed that vibrates with an overhead mirror. And her own personal bejeweled stripper pole! What’s more: Peach produced TWO 5-inch dicks so they could both have a good time. Nicely done, m’lady. That’s what friends are for…

Faraway, So Close.

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I came across an interesting article today in which the author questioned the recent brouhaha / vociferous protest against the security measures enforced by TSA while some other, more serious, offense committed by the US government, such as the wrongful execution of  its citizens, did not inspire nearly enough the appropriate amount and degree of outrage. The author posited that it is easier to find compassion for and harder to ignore when things affect people who are more like ourselves, in this case, law-abiding, gainfully employed, relevantly affluent people and their families who can afford to fly.

To first approximation, everyone can empathize with their neighbors or co-workers and people who they see every day. It’s a bit more of a stretch to take the point of view of people in the next town, or those from a different ethnic group or class, or the gay, or the homeless, or those who dwell in radically different social worlds (Afghan tribesmen, say). The liberal humanist imagination at least strives to see the world through the eyes of others; whereas the conservative mind seems to thrive on shutting out foreignness, or reducing it to something known.

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Being cosmopolitan is hard, it takes work. Empathizing with others is also hard — and it’s not even clear what it should mean. Nobody has the time and resources to empathize with everyone, but the modern world puts us in contact with essentially everyone.

— “No Compassion”, 24 November 2010, Omniorthogonal

What the author wrote about the modern world and the access to “essentially everyone” really struck a cord: I pride myself on being an informed global citizen. Compared to the average Americans, I (believe I) know more about histories, geographies, cultures, customs, and happenings in other countries. I listen to NPR religiously and I read Business Week (used to) read The Economist after all!…

Expanding my alter-ego through the Interwebs, I feel connected to parts of the world that I would not have had any connection to otherwise. I am the product of globalization. A citizen of the world. A resident of the World Wide Web. My peeps are all over the world.

This was made evident when someone in Haiti visited and commented on my blog. At the same time I started noticing the crack in my self-congratulatory complacency.

Kathryn at Reinventing the Event Horizon wrote about the recent presidential election in Haiti and the alleged corruption that’s gotten people agitated to say the least. Did I know about Haiti’s presidential election? Yes, kind of. I heard about Wyclef Jean’s failed attempt to register as a candidate there, and I am aware of the potential for election frauds. Reading Kathryn’s posts was my first exposure to what is currently going on in Haiti. My knowledge of Haiti’s present until then was to the extent of what NPR aired and Twitter tweeted that I happened to catch. The same goes for everything that is happening around the world.

Another fissure showed up in my facade of a well-informed global citizen when a blogger in Indonesia that I got to know online (through Twitter and blogging) tweeted me to say Hi.

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Hundreds of people have died since the first volcano eruption at Merapi on October 25. I did not know anything about it until today. But even my self-chastisement sounds hollow and self-indulgent at this moment. In the scheme of things. Nina sent me a link to see for myself how huge a deal this was in her part of the world. The images speak volumes to the massive force of nature. (For the faint of heart, please do NOT go on to Page 2 where horrific images of the victims are included…)

At times the world seems smaller and the people in it closer because we are all connected, for the fortunate amongst us anyway (Think of Kathryn whose connection to those of us outside of Haiti depends on her WiFi connectivity). At times, of course, we seem yet so far away because I was celebrating Thanksgiving and complaining about cooking while Nina and her people were holding their breath, tweeting the latest updates on the volcano eruptions and relief efforts.

Once again, this is one of those posts where I stated a problem without providing any answers and in the process of writing, only got myself even more confused. I lost my point if there was even a point when I first started.

Reaching out.

We reached out to each other. That should count for something, right?

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Reach out.

Would you reach out and touch a young boy’s heart? Trevor is 12 and he will be undergoing a risky heart surgery today. Pray for him please.

ForTrevorBeingPeachy

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Elly is having her appointment with Dr. Aloysius today. Let your positive thoughts reach her. She is in the general direction of the original Lady Gaga aka Statue of Liberty. Think good thoughts for Elly today. If you play any instrument, play a song for her to keep her company while she waits.

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It is cheesy. Yeah it is true. It is cliche. See if I care. Let there be love, baby. Let there be love.

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