The 3rd Coyote Is Irish!

IT’S OFFICIAL! I’M IRISH!

… Well, a naturalized Irish citizen at least …

I went up to Dublin to declare my loyalty to the State and fidelity to the Irish Nation. I was guided by a spectacular sunrise and surrounded by people from 120 different countries!

The ceremony started with a concert by the Irish Army Band. I smiled ear to ear as it reminded me of all my years in various marching bands with the stiff polyester uniforms, those military hats and white gloves. Those white gloves that the woodwinds would have to cut holes in them so our fingers could get a better grip on the keys.

My memory started to wonder back to when my Mother had gone to her citizenship ceremony to become a U.S. Citizen. She wore navy blue polyester bell bottoms. Fitting attire for the mid 70’s. A corresponding polyester blouse, white with navy polka dots and frills on the short sleeves and waist.  She also wore high heeled platform shoes that brought her over 5 ft tall, possibly 5’3”. To me she looked like she grew into the clouds. Her hair hung in a jet black mass around her waist. I think I was 4, maybe 5? My younger brother played with a toy car under the folded chairs we sat in. My Father dressed in his Air Force blues.

I remember the speech that was given before they pledged allegiance and took their oath. Not word for word mind you, I was only 4 or 5 years old! I do however remember these words; “You are NO LONGER Oriental, African, Mexican or South American. You are an AMERICAN now!”  Even at such an innocent and tender age, I found those words horrifying! And they haunted me up to this day, but no longer …

I half expected a similar speech of “… Forget who and what you were in the past your are Irish now!…” No, no… It wasn’t like that at all… The first thing the Minister of Justice said was to NOT FORGET your old country, it’s history, it’s culture & traditions, but to embrace them and let it become part of the Irish legacy as  the Irish legacy is now part of ours and will be part of the generations to come. The Judge asked us not to deny our children the legacies and histories of our original countries but to teach them so that they know how it all came to be… I was AMAZED!

Growing up I was constantly told how I had to forget about that savage, despicable country I was born in. How I needed to become an American. I wasn’t allowed to learn the language, the culture or even learn how to cook it’s food… I had to learn all that on my own practically in secrete. I was sent to the principal’s office for bringing seaweed to school with my lunch. I was literally beaten and brutalised for not being American enough. No matter how hard I tried it was never American enough. The people that you are supposed to count on blew me off and couldn’t be bothered to even try to pronounce my first name. “You’ll just go by ‘Kim’.”  … But that’s not my name …

So when I heard those words of embracing my legacy I got all teary eyed and choked up. I could barely say my declaration of fidelity to the Irish Nation and loyalty to the State:

“I The3rd Coyote of my house, Cork City, having applied to the Minister for Justice and Equality for a certificate of naturalisation, hereby solemnly declare my fidelity to the Irish Nation and my loyalty to the State. I undertake to faithfully observe the laws of the State and to respect its democratic values.”

When I came to Ireland it was the first time in my life that I felt accepted, first time in my life that I felt the warm embrace of community and that feeling that you can go to sleep and rest because you’re HOME now. I rarely ever saw my Mother smile. One would think that she was a very unhappy woman. But when it came time for her to stand and say the pledge of allegiance, with her hand on her heart she smiled and she looked beautiful! When I made my declaration, I smiled and for the first time in my life I felt BEAUTIFUL!

Keeping Samantha

Remembering you today on this last day of Tet Nguyen Dan – The Lantern Festival. It wasn’t as though we spent a lot of time together, not much at all. But you are my friend and I hope that I am yours. I met you at the Pow Wow in Centennial Colorado. You’re Father said that I looked exactly like you when you were 16. You showed me your regalia that’s been handed down from Mother to Daughter for generations. The beadwork was remarkable and how you modified it for your condition was beyond amazing. You accepted me in as one of your own. I knew I was Saux & Fox then. You told me your stories and confirmed much of my family’s folklore. My Great Grandmother was called “Rose” not for the flower, but for the colour of her skin! You were a Raven-Song come South and now a Coyote-Song. You were the story tellers, the keeper of the stories, the history. “We are immortal through our stories” you once said to me.

Today I keep your story alive
Samantha Coyote-Song (30 May 1966 – 5 March 2011)

Some Tips On Negotiating A Lonely Food Poisoning

There’s that gurgle that bubbles in your stomach. It doesn’t hurt but you definitely feel it and you certainly can hear it. You pay it no mind, but it persists, then starts to cramp. You go to the loo, but it doesn’t help. Nothing comes out … yet.  You start to feel it push up into your throat and you keep swallowing and taking deep breaths. You think that you might have it under control but then you sneeze or cough or worse you laugh … You grab your mouth and in a mad dash to the toilet or nearest waste basket **BLLEEEEEAAAAUUUGGHHHHACK … BLLEEEAH … ACK … *sigh* … BLLEEEEEAAAAUUUGGHHHHACK … BLEEEH BLEEH … UGH … ACK …** The point of no return. RJb2t A list of everything you ate in the last 48 hours races through your head. Was it the tuna? The egg salad? Naw, it couldn’t be, you didn’t have tuna or egg salad! What did you eat? Homemade beef stew, stewed to an inch of it life? Had a chocolate muffin freshly baked? Raw veggies – cucumbers, turnips,  sweet potatoes … aah shyte … that sweet potato tasted like Granny’s perfume. You threw away the lot, … or I should say I did … That didn’t help any, the devilish deed was done! I had food poisoning … yay … The most upsetting part about getting my most recent bout with food poisoning was that I am living alone and on my own. And the worst part about being on your own with food poisoning was cleaning up when it splatters or when you miss. There’s a whole strategy that you have to employ. No you can’t just lay curled up on the bathroom floor shivering, thriving in pain, or sitting awkwardly on the toilet while hanging your head over the tub or in a bucket. No, no none of that, because there isn’t another person there to clean up, there isn’t another person there to make sure your at least sipping water to stay hydrated, or to make sure there’s enough toilet paper. There isn’t that other person to tell you what day it is, what time it is, that your not dreaming, and those are not purple flying monkeys hanging off the ceiling. There isn’t that person there to draw the line and say; “OK, I’m taking  you to the emergency room!”

When you’re on  your own, you need to plan ahead as much as you can while you can. There isn’t much time but it is manageable. First things first is that you have to admit that you are sick and that there will be accidents. You will throw up on your shirt, the walls, the floors and you will poop your pants. It will splatter, and you will miss. In your misery you will not comprehend the actual passage of time and forget that although you may be living alone there are people that will assist you. So here’s some things you can do: Breath and focus. If you cannot manage the sickness into controlled outburst then you need to go to the hospital. Use large towels instead of blankets and pillows. They’re easier to wash. Lay down newspaper for easier clean up.  fb1 Put a plastic bag, or trash bag in the bucket/pot/bin that you have next to the bed or your head for barf. That way all you have to do is drain the bag and throw it out and replace it without cleaning out the container. Keep that container with you at all times. Make sure it’s a container you can in a sense “sit on” or wide enough for poor bottom aim. fb2 If you decide to spend time in bed lay down a couple of large plastic garbage bags on the mattress then cover with towels. Wear old undies that you don’t mind throwing out. Face it, there just may be leakage and you don’t want to ruin your mattress. Keep a glass, a bottle of water next to you and keep sipping water. Set an alarm to take a sip every 15 min or whatever increment suits. There’s a lot of this remedy and that potion, this food, that drink that every Tom Dick and Harry will say that you need. If I made any other suggestions other than water I’m sure someone will sue me. So you choose, but at least have the water.  I had lemon water with a little sea salt in it and a jar of honey with a little spoon. When I was awake every hour I would take a sip of lemon water and a drop of honey. Please don’t sue me because I told you what I did. Warm-Water-with-Lemon-and-Honey Stay connected! These days it’s really easy! As much as I feel that Facebook is the bane of human existence, it has become a necessary evil and a good tool to use in this case. Let people know that you are on your own and ill. Post every so often, comment, let people know your progress. It doesn’t have to be Facebook, it can be texting someone you know that doesn’t mind responding. Staying connected is your safety net. Staying connected is your cheerleader, your motivation to hang in there. Staying connected will let them know if they need to intervene and haul your ass to the hospital. Remember that it’s better if it’s out of your body. And if this is happening your body is working properly. So be happy! YaY! Food Poisoning! EVERYTHING IS WORKING BEAUTIFULLY! xTgnj6GTA You might be asking why did I write this. It’s rather gross and for many TMI! Honestly, I don’t know why I wrote this. I really don’t. I just got over experiencing a 4 day food poisoning horror movie and I suppose I wanted to share my … I don’t know, pain? Struggles? … eh… Well, I hope if anything it may help someone who may read this, or bring a bit of levity to a quite literally a crappy situation.

A Peace Of November

Dear Retail, Dear Commercialism, Dear Advertising,

I applaud your efforts to entice the Christmas Spirit so that we can empty our pockets, our purses, our wallets and our bank accounts to buy whatever you are hocking and selling. But may  we please have a little peace in November before you strangle us with your jingle bells? A bit of calmness before you blind us with flashing fairy lights? Some serenity before the barrage of chaotic screams of “must haves” and “You need to’s” or our families and friends will hate hate us? And although I am flattered that all Mariah wants for Christmas is me wrapped up under her Christmas tree, I’m feeling a bit uneasy that she has to tell me this 20 time a day on the radio, at the pub and in every store I enter. “They” do say that absence does make the heart grow fonder, so may we have a break this November to collect ourselves and let our hearts grow  until they nearly burst of fondness? May we have just a little quite before the storm that is Christmas? May we please? … Pretty, pretty, Please?

Sincerely,

The 3rd Coyote

 

 

 

Friendship Diesel

A TEST OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP?

When they go without lunch, and gift shopping so they can scrape together every red cent they have on them, in a foreign country, to pay for a ridiculous mistake that you made.

What was the mistake you ask? Putting petrol in a diesel only car. Yes sir ree Bob! Make that 300 Bob!

Yes, they told me that it was diesel only! Yes, it was written on the contract! Yes it was on the gas cap! But I was so excited to take my Best Mates to the Ring of Kerry and show them the very essence of glacial geomorphology. I wanted so much to show off my geologic prowess, of where the glaciers began and how they moved down the valley, where they joined together to carved out the lower valley. How when the glacier retreated and left enormous chunks of ice that melted and form the kettle lakes known as the Lakes of Killarney. I was so excited and so egar that I didn’t here what she said. I didn’t see the writing. And to save time (HA!) I unscrewed the gas cap while I went for the wrong pump.

We got all the way to the turn off to Kilgarvan & Kenmare before I noticed that the car was being sluggish. I pulled off in some family’s long driveway and we called AA. … Of all the days I wished it WASN’T sunny in Ireland… As I talked to the mechanic, perfectly on que, when he asked if I put the wrong fuel in, I lifted up the sun visor and saw the big sticker that said “DIESEL ONLY”…

Needless to say, Thank Goodness I needed to go pee in the bushes to mask tossing my breakfast after the few drops!

Well the rest of the story is rather bland. I freaked, AA came and towed the car to Killarney and said that it would take about 2-3 hours. There goes the day, my geologic porousness  – stifled. We quietly wandered around town. I wept. However, my companions showed such great generosity when we were told that I had to pay ( Go figure, this insurance doesn’t cover stupidity) in cash because the mechanic doesn’t take plastic and gathered all the cash they had on them to pay for my OOPS!. I am so very blessed to have such AMAZING friends. It makes me think, that if there are such things as past lives, that I must have been the freaking Dali Lama to deserve their friendship in this life!

I did mange to show them in the twilight, Torc Falls, and where the terminal moraine was around the large lake. We also got to see an Irish deer herd with a stag and his big rack! As much of a train wreck the day was, I hope that my friends got something out of it, even if it’s an amusing story to tell at their Christmas office parties!

AND WE CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY STORIES TO TELL!

Lesson Of Today

Ooooo…. 😦 MacBook clicking louder today, better do a back up… duut tiduu … Huh? What’s this 2 files labled “Library”? Better change one of them so I can tell them apart! 🙂 … duut tiduu … Ah shyte, computer seized up. Well I guess I’ll just shut it down and reboot. … duut ti AAAHHHHHHH!!!!! APPLE CROSSED OUT CIRCLE QUESTION MARK APPLE CROSSED OUT CIRCLE QUESTION MARK APPLE CROSSED OUT CIRCLE QUESTION MARK … OH GAWD WHAT’S THIS FLICKERING MADDNESS!?! OK!OK! Shut down the computer and reboot … NOOOOOO! More flickering maddness! What to do! What to do! Gregory what do … Wait! Call Gregory, no Skype! Call failed. Call Failed. CALL FAILED!!! Alright! Yeah. Call his phone. Ring…. Ring … ANSWER GA’ER DA … Hello? … AH’M’GAWD THE COMPUTER AND – THE SKY IS FALLING – THE REBOOT – AND THE FILES – THEN THE HARPES – AND IT WAS LIKE THE FALL OF JERICO ALL OVER AGAIN – AND THEN – AND NEED IT DONE BY 5PM!  … OK … OK … OK … I’ll give it a go and if it doesn’t work I’ll take it to the shop. Let’s see here CTL, ALT, SHIFT … DELETE? … NO BACK SPACE … NO CTL, apple squiggly, BACK SPACE … NOOOOO … *sigh*… CTL, apple squiggly, SHIFT, BACK SPACE …  FECK IT! TO THE REPAIR SHOP, it’s 3pm be back before 5pm. At the shop … Sooooo, I’m an idgiot and I did something really stupid and … Oh yeah, but it would take us 2-3 days to get to it, but you can go to the Apple Store and see if they’ll let you use their systems disk … a silent look of “YOUR F*@%ING JOKING!” … TO THE APPLE STORE, 3:45pm be back before before 5pm. At the Apple Store … Sooooo, I’m an idgiot and I did something really stupid and …Nope. No. No. Nooooo. Baaaaad, bad girl! Can’t do that here. Have to go to the repair shop over the river past the bus station. …*sigh” & a silent look of “YOUR F*@%ING JOKING!” … TO THE OTHER REPAIR SHOP, 4:05pm be back by, oh who the phuc cares … At the other repair shop. What!? Who’s this! ANTHONY! ANTHONY! MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS IT’S ANTHONY AKA JAVANESS 2 DAN GO POWERHOUSE! Getting an estimate on 2 very sick Mac Books! … What are you doing here? …  I’m an idgiot and I did something really stupid and… Oh! Well I have the system disk you can use. I’m just around the corner. It’ll only take 10 min. … WHUAAA YEAH! Around the corner, pop the disk change the file name and there’s my computer! JAVANESS YOUR A HERO! 4:40pm mad dash to the community centre right as my blood sugar bottoms out because I didn’t eat. Don’t know how I ended up with a bag of popcorn, a Double Decker candy bar, & a stale box of warm chips, but figured it was my reward for my sticktuitiveness and inhaled the spoils to bring my blood sugar up just in time for class.

The lesson of this day? – Things will work out! … oh … and eat before you do something stupid! 😉

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So I may have done another stupid thing. No worries I have eaten! 😉 Anthony may not be Javaness. I think he is, but I may have remembered it incorrectly. So, my apologies to the real Javaness if it’s not Anthony. Please forgive me and blame it on my low blood sugar? 😉

A Memorable Moment

Image

Oh how I ache for my youth! After watching the finals of the women’s 3 meter springboard it’s hard to believe that I was once nationally ranked in both the 3 meter springboard and 10 meter platform diving. It’s even harder to believe that I once had a body much like theirs. It’s nearly unbelievable that I might have executed a dive or two that looked as graceful and effortless as theirs do.

One of the most memorable moments in my very short diving career was right at home during a swim meet at good ‘ol Thomas B. Doherty High School. I don’t remember what school we were competing against. I was so focused. There was a full panel of 5 judges. I was up for my very last dive, my very best 1 meter springboard dive. – A simple back dive straight (layout). As I approached the board my teammates and what seemed the whole pool shouted in unison “O! K! K!” The encouragement that I was not going to let down. I walk to the edge of the board and turn positioning the balls of my feet on the edge. *Exhale* I work the board, 1… 2 … 3 … HUUUP!!  I spring into the air. I reach that sweet spot way above the board. My arms snap into position outstretched to either side and my body turns like an iron bar being flipped. I spot the water again well above the board. I pull my hands together and fly… Punched the water, ripped the dive, no splash, straight to the bottom.

When I came out of the water, the cheering was defining! Even the opposing team and coaches were cheering! You know you did good when the other team is impressed. The scoring begins. 9 … 9.5 …10 … 9 … 2? … What? 2? The pool erupted in groans & BOOOOOOO! BOOOOOO! Coach Badger contested the score, but the judge wouldn’t budge and the 2 stood fast.

How could I even begin to explain the elation, the love and support that I felt at that moment! It seemed as though the whole world was willing to fight for my honour!  Other students, cheerleaders, teachers that wouldn’t have even said boo to me in the hallways were all boo’ing in my defense! MY GAWED! IT WAS INTOXICATING!

That 2 didn’t make a difference in my score. They throw the lowest and the highest score out. That’s probably why the judge wouldn’t budge. I don’t know if the crowed knew how the scoring was done, or if they did would they have fought as they did. But what does it matter?

Bonfire Night – Cork City

I know very little about Bonfire Night here in Cork. People seem to be a bit closed lipped about it. I’ll ask; “So, what’s this bonfire night?” There would be a moment of silence and the suspicious look of; ‘…Are you kidding me?’ Then a realization that I being NOT of Cork origin &/or decent am not privy to, along with a sly smile and a giggle. Often times it’s accompanied with a bit of head scratching, a nodding of the head and the muttered words of; “Ooooh yeah, yeah sooo …”

I have found out that it’s something that only happens in County Cork. I also found out through observation that it happens twice a year on the Summer and Winter Solstice. … or is it the Equinox? People, mostly kids will start dragging branches, broken furniture, and anything else that’s dry and will burn, into a pile in the middle of some courtyard a couple days before. There are some communities that will advertise and have BBQs, games and whatnots. I did have one kind silver haired gentleman say that bonfire night was celebrating the “coming and going of the  Summer sun”. … OOOoooOOOooo, careful now, we’re tip toeing on the edge of talking about the “old ways”, rather the “ancient ways”. Ask any Irish not from Cork and they would more and likely tell you that it’s and excuse for Corkonians to burn all their old stuff!

With each bonfire night I learn a little more. Eventually I’ll get the whole story. I even tried going down to the library and inquiring there. Their answer? Read the first paragraph. What I find interesting about it all is that it seems like this very old tradition that goes back long before Ireland was Ireland, long before Catholicism, long before civilization as we know it. Something that has survived through time, though it’s significance has faded. …

This year I managed to get a photo. A bit blurry, but I didn’t have to steal it from the web.

Nothing says pagan like bonfire night in Cork!

My Father Didn’t Want To See Me

My Father didn’t want to see me. ..

We’re not close.  Last I heard anything directly from him was, ooh … I would say about 2 years ago? Before that, we’ve gone on stints of multiple years without any communication what so ever. … Now, now, no worries, you may think that this will be a Father’s Day Dad Bashing, but bare with me and see.

My Father did 4 tours in Viet-Nam, one of which was to go back there, find me and bring me to the US. I was … still am, a fiercely independent & precocious little shit.  It was something, maybe the only thing I know that he realized about me, & he did very early on. Maybe it was because I told him when I was 5yrs old that once I was 18yrs old I was going to leave and never come back. …  And sure enough I did. … Well, OK I visit, but never to live.

Growing up with my Father was difficult at best. Being in a military family the common perception would be that there were a lot of strict rules & discipline & whatever … Naw, not here. It wasn’t a complete lack of law & order, mind you, but I was basically left to my own devices … I was left to figure it out for myself.  That was the difficult part. He wasn’t there when I needed him. Then again, when I look back on those times, I really didn’t. … Come to think of it, I’d more & likely, refuse any help from him anyway. I’m like that.

He made sure that I was fed & clothed. That I had a roof over my head & knew the basic protocols to be socially functional. Otherwise, he didn’t seem to have much interest, and frankly speaking, I didn’t care. Seriously! I wasn’t bothered at all by his lack of interest. … Rather enjoyed it. Because of an implied & somewhat enforced   behavioral law of “That’s what/how you are suppose to do/feel…”,  I did for awhile “pretend” that it did upset me. I pretended that I needed his attention, his approval. And I am certain that at least one of you out there who may read this is thinking that I’m justifying &/or in denial, or something like that … Am I wrong? … There were occasions that he did take interest if only to tell me how I manipulate people into doing things for me because I was incapable of doing things for myself. …OK, that I am truly upset about, & still am, obviously. That was a really mean thing to say … To anyone.

To be fair, we did have some special times together. When I was  at Carver Elementary  & too sick to go to school, but not sick enough to stay in bed, he’d take me to work with him. We’d have a enormous breakfast of whatever I wanted at Sandy’s Diner. Then I got to roam around the Chitlaw Building &/or Cheyenne Mt.  (NORAD). Afterward we’d go for foot longs at … uh … I don’t remember the name of the place. It was an A frame drive through hotdog joint with a huge flying Underdog on the roof!

According to common social perceptions, I was a “trouble maker”. Nothing sever, just tricky sort of trouble, or in some circles; “coyote trouble”. He never tried to dissuade me, and he never punished me. He showed the same disinterest toward the neighbors, teachers, police, etc… as he did to my arsony when they complained or prosecuted. “Deal with it or send her home” became his daily mantra. I stole his credit card when I was 8yrs old and tried to buy plane tix to Ireland. He just picked me up at the airport and took me home. I pulled off a scam for several months, where I got an allowance from my Mother and one from my Father for doing the same chores … Yeah, they didn’t talk much! … Hehehe … He stopped paying. I took apart his lawnmower and used the engine to build an ultra light like the one in MacGyver. It worked! Flew for about 200m before it crashed! My Father told me to put the engine back in the lawnmower. He ended up buying a new one. …

I don’t know if he knew that I left when I was 14 and was living in a studio apt. on my own for 9 months. I forged his signature …  I don’t know if he knew that I was training at the Olympic Training Center. I don’t know if he knew that I had dropped out of high school, again forged his signatures, got my GED and enrolled in a community college.  I got busted, had to go back to high school … Don’t know if he knew about that either.

I know that I should feel angry, that I should feel hurt, that I should this and should that but I don’t … This will come as a shock to most of you, so take a seat and be prepared to hate me, if you don’t already. Believe me, I’m OK with that … I know that I should also love my Father but I don’t … We just did not have that kind of relationship.

Recently my Father had a stroke. He was paralyzed on his left side. He’s regain mobility since. This is his second stroke after 2 heart attacks that nearly killed him. I guess he was feeling better and decided  that he didn’t need to take his medication, so he collapsed while crossing Austin Bluffs Park Way. Being that I live halfway around the world I couldn’t come see him right away. Lucky enough though I had to be in Colorado on business not long after. I had arranged a day to meet up with my Brother, Nephew, and Mother so we can all go and visit  him. When we were all together my Bother who’s been looking after him told me that he didn’t want to see me, but we can just go down there anyways whether he liked it or not. …

I told my Brother no … If he doesn’t want to see me, I wasn’t going to force myself on him. My Brother looked concerned and tried to smooth it over by saying that he doesn’t, hasn’t wanted to see anybody, not even him. I smiled and said while I giggled; “I know why he doesn’t want to see me, and I’m perfectly OK with it!” …

If there was any doubt by circumstance, or paternal test, all one needs is to talk to both my Father and me to know without question that I am my Father’s child! I am exactly like him! A contemporary female exactly like him, but exactly like him none the less. I don’t just understand, empathize, sympathize, I know. I know my Father’s indifference, concerns, reasons, excuses and whys, because they are my own.

Jon Hamm is the spitting image of my Father in his day. So much so that I find it disturbing at  times to watch “Mad Men”. He was your classic All American Mid-Western boy in Michigan. He played baseball, basket ball, & of course football. Oh, yes, yes, he was the quarter back! He join the Air Force right out of high school so that he could go to college. He volunteered for 4 tours in Viet-Nam, & spear headed & followed through with programs, protocols, & policies that are still considered gospel to this day. He retired as a Senior Master Sargent of the United States Air Force at the age of 38 years old. He took college course when he could between work & family, & still managed, to be on a rowing team, bowling team, & a black belt in Judo. He wrote & published music, & could play the piano & guitar simply by ear…

No, I do not love my Father. No, I don’t see him as my friend. I do, however deeply honour & respect him. I would not be enjoying the life I have if he decided that day in Texas to throw away the letter saying that he had a child back in Ban Goi. For that I will always be grateful.  I’m happy & rather impressed that our relationship is what it is. I am very proud that he is my Father.

Sorry, I’m not home right now…

I miss the old days where sometimes we’re just not available, a time when nobody’s home. Oh, yeah it’s great! The cell phones the internet, emails, IMs, chats, texts, Skype, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, … YouTwitFace, or whatever it was that Conan O’Brien came up with. We’re all connected 24/7. … Hooooraaay …

It’s all well and good until you have that friend that gets upset because you didn’t text back right away or didn’t answer your cell, or something or other of the sort. You’re forced then to make up a big enough  excuse, a big enough reason that would negate any hurt feelings that your friend may possibly have, because telling them that you wanted some alone time lounging in the sun on your balcony drinking mojitos with mint grown in your own garden while listening to the Buena Vista Social Club just isn’t a good enough reason not to answer your cell.

Why do we do this to ourselves and to other people? Why does there have to be some overriding circumstance for us not to answer our cell, text, or the front door for that matter! Why do we expect the worse when there’s a delayed or no response? As if they are conspiring with the evil minions of the 7th ring of Hell to take down your very existence and use it to rip apart the universe as we know it! MY GOODNESS! HOW DARE THEY! … *sigh*… Just because we can, doesn’t mean we have too, in any regard. We all deserve to be unavailable from time to time without the guilt & pressure of being connected.

So if you call me and I don’t answer, you might find me in the 7th ring of Hell. Apparently I have work to do!

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