Sunday, March 16, 2008

After All

After all the time I spent getting an idea, going to my craft room to dig out my computer (because my husband is on the laptop downstairs and the iMac is turned off plus it handles this site in a funny way), putting away the crafting supplies that were covering the computer desk (which is in reality a drafting table, but the only thing I had on hand to serve the purpose), shooing Noodle out of the craft room (where he was trying everything possible to hold my attention), cleaning up Kitty poo (always seems to appear in the craft room when I'm not looking), going downstairs to get some asthma medicine to clear up the breathing problem that developed while I was cleaning, getting waylaid by my husband who insisted I call my family to find out if we're going to have visitors today (more potential cleaning) and finding some tolerable music to listen to while I type... I have nearly forgotten why I felt the need to come in here in the first place.

I recall it having, in an essential way, something to do with blogging and the amount of personal information we share in these rather public forums and whether it has anything to do with the fact that we spent eons in close-knit communities that were obliviated in the space of two generations (it's an estimate, don't knitpick). Is this our answer? Did we recreate our community space with the advent of the internet? How vastly different is this kind of communication, one-way, annonymous, fraught with the perils of the incongruity between those words we would speak and those words we type, the ideas that emerge when we have only our own minds winging along without interaction? I don't really have any answers and I do find solace in things other people write about, but then I always have found solace and comfort in books, which are not so very different in their mode of communication. Perhaps better thought out since more than one reads them before they are "posted", but you get the picture.

A complete aside: My son refers to letters that I post through snail mail as "email". This is his world now and I can only hope to remain relevant as the years pass and the technology advances. What can it be like, I wonder, for those few souls still living who were born early in the last century who had no electricity, no running water, no phones, TVs, computers, cars? What will my life be like when I reach an advanced age?

How random can a post get and still be cohesive?

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