Friday, January 16, 2015

Things not Facebook friendly

People with children can never believe how big / grown their once-infant / post-fetus has become.
Children are always amazing, no matter what.

There are a lot (a LOT) of lost dogs — dogs jump fences and slip leashes frequently.
This happens perhaps more often than babies are amazing.
Both of these events will change your life.

People who comment on conservative news/blog sites will say, "Can you believe that? He is such an un-American moron" as many times as commenters on liberal sites will say, "It's so sad that people are so stupid."

I am probably kind-of bored by your non-artistic snapshots of your kids.
This kind of photo quality was only acceptable when there was film and photos cost money to develop.
Even then, people only put the good ones into the album.
Even then, people only shared the albums with relatives and others who asked to see them.

I only have posted approx. 13 photos of my cat(s) and bird(s). Total.
Emphasis on blurry, poorly composed photos. Your kids can look so much better. All events are not photographic events. Choose wisely.

It is really difficult to handle the enforced obituaries.
In the recent past, only people who paid for the newspaper and deliberately went to that section learned that their friends, friends' friends or relatives (in that city only) had died.
Or they got a phone call.
Now, I hear almost daily about someone my own age (I am only barely middle aged) who has suddenly been killed in an accident or by heart disease or something like that.

I have contributed to this phenomenon by posting a few things (mostly comments, though) about my Dear Friend From College and Now who was crashed up in a car accident not caused by anything but Chance, 40 days ago. If that had been Ash Wednesday, we would be a few uncounted Sundays from Easter.

We are all watching the slowest of Resurrections.

It is harder than what my DNA ever was programmed to take in, to hear of five degrees' separation of surgery, cancer, heart attacks/strokes, parents' dying, dogs lost, babies born, disabilities acquired, and then that random fluff-joyful stuff some of you post that has nothing to do with anything you have experienced, that is just someone's pithy platitude . . . ah, but then some of us post things from the Buddha (and only some of us verify the quotes).


Where can I complain about my job.
Where can I commiserate about my friends I can't get on the phone or in person.
Where can I say that I am in a lot of anguish.
Where can I walk for hours and not feel tired or watched.
Where can I go and not think about ISIS, South Sudan, south Chicago, police states everywhere, rapists, homeless, jobless, hopeless, dirty, aching, bleeding, beaten people?

At work I read about people who live by and live well by faith.
No matter what.
Who are in trouble or who put themselves next to those in trouble and give all that they have to mitigate that . . . time, love, hugs, food, processes, political action.

That tedious line quoted ("quoted") in the Bible, whether Jesus said it or not (it was early), about how we will always have the poor makes me disappointed in both humanity and religion.

Animals do not have the poor. Plants sometimes steal resources from other plants, but they also sometimes are quite complementary in their partnering. America's first humans knew that about corn, beans and squash, (so I am told in places on the Internet).

Animals eat, eat each other and meet and eat each other based on random patterns.

But they don't seem to get upset about that. They just be.

We have Facebook, and that is an example of how tangled our brains are. We can make such wonderful and useful things. But we also make a lot of junk. Most of which is trash as far as the Earth's processes are concerned.

Don't worry; I am still looking for something lovely to make that doesn't hurt anything, anyone or anyclean.

"If you are so smart, why aren't you rich?"

Well, because I don't want to get ahead and acquire more creature comforts, even if becoming very rich meant that I "could help" others by my foundations and whatnot, by making things that people have to acquire by exchanging money (work) for things/services that, let's face it, they don't really need / (or, more likely) could get some other self-determined way.

The way we parse up our days and time baffles me. Having been born when I was born sometimes leads me to feel that I really don't belong. I can't succeed in a place where you don't chop your own heating wood, and to do so means killing trees. To eat means millions of pigs were abused and gross vast pools of unmitigated waste were filled . . . aquifers fouled, bees destroyed, wires everywhere, friends far away.

And computers. At work. Slow. Things to complain about.

No choice. Faxes are jokes like 8-track tapes. Inefficient. Letters still happen. How charming.

We play at camping.


Nick said...

An acolyte asked Nick: `What is Facebook?'
Nick answered: `Dried dung.'

It's all just the mind moving, yes?

pom. said...

fuuu. your writing always guts me, man.
where you at these days? how's stuff?