uh oh
It’s been over a week now, and still not okay. CDT that is, daylight savings time. I don’t know what the alphabet daylight savings time is all about, it hasn’t saved me one gardenia sunbeam of daylight, not one. Even though an early riser, make that early riser, I don’t like this, not at all, whoever thought up daylight savings time should be wakened even an hour earlier and hanged at sunrise without a cup of coffee.
This morning, counter to all resolutions, I did open email and scroll down before letting the fingers trip lightly over the keyboard toward the destination of a fairly coherent blogpost. There they are again. I’m not into hurting folks’ feelings, and I keep meaning to say it but forget while saying something about cars, or early Panama City, or the old ice plant here in St. Andrews, or the red and my green navigation lights spread out on the Bay, or the religious challenge at hand, or God help us, the political landscape; but it keeps falling through the cracks. So here: please don’t invite me to join LinkedIn or Twitter. I’m not ignoring you, but FB is all I can deal with, and I really don’t even “do” Facebook, all I do is daily post on FB a link to my blogpost, which I’ve done ever since that morning my CaringBridge site wouldn’t start, not even with a push. So, lacking a daily automatic distribution system, I started posting the Facebook link. But Twitter and LinkedIn I don’t do at all, so thank you anyway. I guess Twitter and LinkIn are social websites, at least of sorts, and I'm not social. In fact, were this a journal or private diary instead of a site open to the public, I’d commiserate with myself about my personality, shy, an introvert, not sociable except as I force myself to be, and that not comfortably or easily, but miserably, self-consciously. No small talk here. But I don’t want people to know that about myself; in fact, there are many, many things I don’t want people to know about me, don’t even want myself to remember and face about me. But then this is Lent, even worse than ordinary Great Lent, this is Holy Week, and I have to face them: the introspection unto repentance deepens so that after next Friday’s Death of God, and in next Saturday’s theological Absence of God from Creation, I can in total loneness collect myself and reassemble my Being sufficiently purified to welcome the Dawn of Easter Day without fear.
Now I’ve said more than intended, wandered outside my meadow into my swamp. Dragons. Leviathans. Screech owls. Satyrs and beasts. Wild things and things that creep. Nevermind, it’s none of your business. Go away.
DThos+
This morning, counter to all resolutions, I did open email and scroll down before letting the fingers trip lightly over the keyboard toward the destination of a fairly coherent blogpost. There they are again. I’m not into hurting folks’ feelings, and I keep meaning to say it but forget while saying something about cars, or early Panama City, or the old ice plant here in St. Andrews, or the red and my green navigation lights spread out on the Bay, or the religious challenge at hand, or God help us, the political landscape; but it keeps falling through the cracks. So here: please don’t invite me to join LinkedIn or Twitter. I’m not ignoring you, but FB is all I can deal with, and I really don’t even “do” Facebook, all I do is daily post on FB a link to my blogpost, which I’ve done ever since that morning my CaringBridge site wouldn’t start, not even with a push. So, lacking a daily automatic distribution system, I started posting the Facebook link. But Twitter and LinkedIn I don’t do at all, so thank you anyway. I guess Twitter and LinkIn are social websites, at least of sorts, and I'm not social. In fact, were this a journal or private diary instead of a site open to the public, I’d commiserate with myself about my personality, shy, an introvert, not sociable except as I force myself to be, and that not comfortably or easily, but miserably, self-consciously. No small talk here. But I don’t want people to know that about myself; in fact, there are many, many things I don’t want people to know about me, don’t even want myself to remember and face about me. But then this is Lent, even worse than ordinary Great Lent, this is Holy Week, and I have to face them: the introspection unto repentance deepens so that after next Friday’s Death of God, and in next Saturday’s theological Absence of God from Creation, I can in total loneness collect myself and reassemble my Being sufficiently purified to welcome the Dawn of Easter Day without fear.
Now I’ve said more than intended, wandered outside my meadow into my swamp. Dragons. Leviathans. Screech owls. Satyrs and beasts. Wild things and things that creep. Nevermind, it’s none of your business. Go away.
DThos+