The Piscean Prison

Being a Pisces can be a bitch.   Plain and simple.    As I get older it seems it just gets harder and harder to deal with the outside world and all of the horrors available to us through social media and news outlets.   Pisces are idealistic lovers, we quite literally love love.    We love everything about love and everything about being in love.    We love people we don’t even know and we can smother those we do with so much love that they run away.   And it doesn’t stop there.    Since we love to spread love so much we become paranoid when we may have not spread the love inadvertently.    I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost sleep thinking I said or did something to someone that hurt their feelings or pissed them off.     The idea of intentionally hurting someone, or stepping outside of the “love” zone really turns our world upside down.

Of course this all goes to shit when we’ve been hurt beyond the point of no return.    Pisces love to forgive and forget and get back to the business of loving, but there comes a time when we’ve been burned so much that there’s no going back and we shut down.    People are so used to seeing us in a good mood, that when we withdraw into ourselves it’s almost like the sun has stopped shining.    We share our pain in ways that spreads discomfort to others.   Our internal darkness is deep and intricate.    We explore it at times with almost with great curiosity, lurking in the shadows, feeling safe from the world, comforted by our own pain… because it’s familiar to us.   Many times it takes other Pisces, skilled in the process and geared up with safety harnesses and rope, to meet us down in the caverns of our soul to pull us out of despair.

Pisces love art and see it in the every day.    We often see it in things most people take for granted, and as such, are subjected to additional misery when it’s destroyed.   It’s hard to walk down a city street as Pisces, among so many people that are ignoring the unique creations that surround them, the sky, a single flower trying to survive, the beauty of a wrinkled face that suddenly smiles…. all great works of art.  We look at people as they walk by and wonder about their lives, we send them secret blessings and messages of love, we hope their day will improve.   We get lost in the all the romanticizing and are probably often killed by moving vehicles, our minds elsewhere as we bounce of the hood of a sports car driven by a Scorpio talking on their mobile phone.

It’s really important for Pisces to stay centered and grounded right now, because there’s a whole lot of “non-love” things going on in the world.    I try not to watch the news, stay away from it all, and it works at first.    I begin to heal, I begin to love again, I begin to bring down the walls.     I do all of this just in time for some asshole to post a video of some gruesome treatment towards a living animal on Facebook and my soul is wounded, crushed…assaulted.    And I run down the spiral staircase deep within myself for protection once again.

I guess that’s it.   It just sucks being a Pisces sometimes.    When we’re our happy selves, we love to be out there spreading happiness and love.    When we’re not, it’s just shit.  I hope I didn’t make you think I’m in one of those dark places right now, on the contrary, I’m actually very happy.    I woke up to seeing love being broadcast all over the planet with Harry and Meagan’s Royal Wedding.    That’s like the Olympics for a Pisces!   However this event made me very aware of the love that we’ve been missing as of late, and how very good it feels to see it again.   Blessings to all, please don’t fuck up my day.

 

 

 

Experiencing Homophobia Overseas

Living in the United States can and will make you pretty spoiled.    You become accustomed to life as you know it, and take everyday occurrences completely for granted.    Many of us here in Miami are reminded of our abundance as a nation when we share the experience of someone that recently immigrated from Cuba, and see their reactions to to a well stocked produce section at the local grocery store.     It’s an all out emotional meltdown at times, something neither person is prepared for.    While economic prosperity is something that’s relatively easy to appreciate and witness, individual freedoms are not.    Most people vacation in areas of the world where they are welcomed with open arms, but even in the most beautiful and serene locations, the gay tourist has to be mindful of their destination in a different capacity… their personal safety.  There are many parts of the world where being homosexual is against the law, and I’m not referring to some distant land on the other side of the planet, I’m talking about enjoying the beauty and splendor of the Caribbean.   It was there that my partner Eric and I became very appreciative of the security and liberties we now enjoy in the United States.

Cruising is my idea of the perfect vacation.   Every detail is taken care of, and for seven days or more (as is usually our case), your only responsibility is to use the restroom and clothe yourself.   For me it’s the ultimate form of relaxation, and for someone that grew up around the sea, nothing could be more appropriate.   In the past 17 years I’ve experienced just as many cruises, most of which took place in the beautiful waters of the Caribbean.    Many of these cruises were chartered with Atlantis Events, which specializes in providing vacations to the gay community.    While Atlantis did a good job in general of keeping us safe, there was once an exception where we experienced mobs of people holding signs and screaming at us while buses took us to our scheduled excursions.    The ship was the first all gay vessel to ever dock at Grand Cayman and we were met with much anger and hate.    Still,  we were all together, thousands of us, and there was quite literally safety in numbers.

Our home for the next eight days, RCCL’s Freedom of the Seas!

Atlantis was a fun alternative to regular cruises when I took my first NCL trip back in 2001.   It was a great way to feel comfortable on vacation since so many gays and lesbians were still closeted back then.    I still remember our cruise director Malcom telling us during the sail-away-party, that for the next week we could hold our partner’s hand anywhere on-board and we didn’t have to worry about it.   Well times have changed and now you can actually get married to the man of your dreams, and invite your family and co-workers to the wedding (you know we do the best weddings….. wedding planners are all gay to begin with.)   The appeal of an all gay cruise is arguably no longer the sense of freedom and solidarity, it’s the party itself…and the men.    If you’re in a mutual exclusive relationship (monogamous,) and you’ve outgrown the circuit scene, then an all gay cruise can seem as alienating and foreign as a Southern Baptist Convention in Alabama during the middle of summer.    With this in mind, Eric and I have always felt extremely comfortable on all our “straight cruises,” with passengers and crew eager to engage us in conversation and merriment.  This last voyage, on board Royal Caribbean’s Freedom of the Seas, was in fact particularly social, with almost a sense of family on-board.  However,  during a stop in St. Kitts, we were the only gay couple on a day long trip on-board a catamaran, and it was made very obvious to us that we probably shouldn’t have been there.

The beautiful cliffs of St. Kitts. Paradise was about to get creepy.

Our experience on St. Kitts started out much as any wonderful day, the morning sun was shining bright and the view from our balcony made it clear we were no longer at sea and had docked at our first stop.    We grabbed a quick bite to eat and made our way to the gangway to meet the other passengers that had booked an excursion on the island.    After a brief wait, we walked together to another dock and boarded a bright yellow colored vessel with its sails down and awaiting adventure.   Interestingly enough, our experience on-board didn’t start to go south until we were well under way, as we sailed past lush beautiful landscapes, contrasted with impressive cliffs.   It was then, as all the men began removing their shirts, that a crew member asked how often we both went to the gym.   Seemingly a harmless remark at first, even a compliment,  the questions and comments ended up becoming more angry and intrusive as the day progressed.    After a couple of chuckles I noticed one of the other crew members staring at me with a somewhat angry expression, however I tried to brush it off as my imagination.    Still, he stared in my direction for some time and then the hairs on my arms began to stand, almost as if some dormant predatory instinct was waking up.    Although an extremely unpleasant sensation, I decided I wouldn’t verbalize it to Eric because I wanted him to enjoy our excursion.   If it was my imagination, I didn’t want to risk impacting his perception of this beautiful scenery.   Just moments later Eric nudged me and I turned to look at him.  He whispered in my ear “I don’t think they like us.”  

When we arrived at our snorkel location it was time to put on our gear on and jump off the back of the boat.    We could also walk down a staircase / ladder that was extended down the middle of the craft to the ocean, put our fins on when we reached the bottom, and then basically wade into the water.   I opted for the back of the boat since you didn’t have to wait for everyone to gather their equipment and there was much less people.    As I was sitting on the back side of the catamaran, I put on my fins expecting to just turn sideways and jump off.   Suddenly the crew member that was staring at me earlier was in my face and began shouting “Have you ever seen a duck climb a tree?”  Not expecting any sort of confrontation while on vacation, I was completely caught off guard and thought he was joking.    And then he continued  “Have you ever seen a duck climb a tree?   Then how do you think you’re going to be able to get off the back?”   

Looking off the back of the boat I saw there was a small set of three steps, nothing I couldn’t handle with fins on, but apparently he didn’t like that I was going to try.    He hadn’t spoken, or yelled for that matter, to anyone else but I apparently got the brunt of his frustration.    Another passenger next to me whispered something along the lines of “how do I get these things on?”    I cautiously replied “I’m not sure, I’m just listening to what he says because I don’t want to get yelled at again.”   With that I jumped off the back of the boat and Eric followed, as we began our snorkel “adventure” portion of the excursion.   The recent events haunted my mind in the silence of the water and I was angered that I would be treated in such a fashion while paying good money for the experience.     The snorkeling wasn’t great either, and I found myself missing the coral reefs and hard bottom communities I’ve seen on previous trips or even in the Florida Keys back home.

After snorkeling was done, the crew began preparing a light lunch for the passengers to enjoy.   Once again I was scolded for going on the wrong side of the boat, since the line started in the opposite direction.    This pretty much validated for me that I was being singled out, and I could apparently do nothing right on-board this vessel.  When lunch was finished we sailed away toward the beach portion of our day and I began thinking about everything that had happened and wondered if it would get worse.    It did.    While we were sailing, the angry stares continued, this time with two crew members standing side by side.    It became extremely awkward when another crew member walked by us and we looked up and caught him pointing down at us as if saying “these two?”  The weather seemed to acknowledge the current situation, as clouds rolled in and the sky became dark and grey as we approached the beach.

When you think of Caribbean beaches you normally think of crystal clear blue and emerald green waters, a tropical drink in your hand, and perhaps an umbrella overhead.   Unfortunately, the landscape had transformed to completely match the eeriness of the atmosphere.  We were on a beach with rusted and broken lounge chairs, which could be rented for two dollars.    For the same price you could get an umbrella, some of which were notably stolen from hot dog stands, or were only half present, steel rods protruding where there was once material.   The water was still and murky, and reflected the gloomy sky above.    Eric and I were starting to feel very concerned for our safety, and even took turns guarding our belongings on the beach, while the other walked into the shallow water.    We were also concerned the boat would conveniently leave without us, having no real specified time to be back on-board.

If things couldn’t get any more creepy, Eric and I began to feel the familiar feeling of being stared at and turned around.    Just about 50 feet away, a group of beach vendors had joined several of our catamaran crew members, in staring directly at the both of us as if we were exhibits at a zoo.     One of the crew members, the original stare guy, presumably realizing at how odd this looked, told me to come over to him because he needed to talk to me.  Eric looked at me and said “oh my God” as I walked over and replied “what can I do for you guy?”    I was scared shitless but put on my best deep masculine voice I could muster.     The crew member responded “You need a drink in your hand, I don’t like seeing people without a drink…. here have two.”    I nervously accepted the drink after observing that it came from the same cooler that all the other passengers were getting drinks from as well.    When I walked back to Eric with his beverage, one person in the stare-down group, an older man, decided to approach us with a scowl and questioned “Are you two brothers?”    Completely nervous, anxious and surprised with the query, we both stuttered and said “Yes, of course, we’re brothers.”     As the man walked away I attempted to start up conversation in an attempt to invalidate my fears, I asked how long he had been working with the boat, but he mumbled his answer and returned to his group of onlookers.   He didn’t want to have anything to do with us, not being too convinced with our answers.

The rest of the afternoon was shit.    As we sailed back to the dock, we couldn’t wait to get safely back on-board our ship.    The experience had become completely surreal…we were surrounded by extremely happy straight people that were dancing, laughing and drinking obnoxiously while we were completely terrified.  I found myself playing scenarios in my head, trying to figure out what I would do if they tried anything, fear based “what if’s” running through my mind.   Things like what if they made up a story about Eric and I, and when we docked would there be police waiting?   Even as we approached land, we dared not show our unease. We found ourselves making sure to leave a tip as they passed the jug around, not wanting to let them know how we truly felt.    We just wanted the excursion to be over.

Back safely in our stateroom, St. Kitts in the distance…. just where we like it.

Strangely enough, you wouldn’t think that after this sort of experience occurs, you would be wondering what to do next?    Do we tell someone?   Who do we tell?    Would anyone on the ship even care?    We kept talking about the experience, a sign that it was truly bothering us, and opened up at the first opportunity that presented itself.    While booking our next cruise on-board, we were asked if we’d like to do St. Kitts again by the Royal Caribbean booking agent and we both said in unison “no way!”    The reaction was met with curiosity and then bewilderment, as we explained what had happened the day before.    We were told that we needed to inform the shore excursions desk immediately, so they’re made fully aware of what transpired so it never happens again.    After we wrapped up our booking, we approached the desk as instructed, however we didn’t feel our ordeal would get the attention it deserved.    We decided to bring the matter up to our concierge instead and see what she would say.

It’s always a great feeling when you’re a bit beaten up by the world and someone comes along in your defense, especially someone strong in character and wants to make things right.    Our concierge was a beautiful young lady from Brazil and had been accustomed to seeing Eric and I in one of the lounges, enjoying drinks and chatting with fellow passengers before dinner each night.     When we conveyed our experience to her she became extremely protective of both of us, and explained that as a child she was picked on for having a weight issue and would not tolerate her passengers being harassed for any reason.   She immediately filled an entry into the ships log (yes just like Star Trek) and put us in touch with the appropriate persons.    Less than an hour later we were issued an almost $300 refund for the shore excursion and were apologized to repeatedly.    Even if we hadn’t received our money back, it felt incredible to be acknowledged as people once again, something we missed during our time in St. Kitts.   We were and still are incredibly grateful for the way Royal Caribbean and its employees stepped up to the plate.

The atmosphere on Freedom of the Seas…. fun and acceptance. 🙂

This learning experience was a valuable one.   Eric and I had become so comfortable with the acceptance of crew and passengers on-board, we also became complacent.   We forgot that there are many places in this world where people don’t enjoy the freedoms and liberties we do as Americans, even if the road getting there has been paved with much pain and strife.   Interestingly enough, while cruising only a year before, we opted not to do any excursions in Jamaica, due to its well documented issues with homophobia.   On this trip we didn’t do our research, else we would have known that gay sex is punishable by up to 10 years in prison in St. Kitts, a clear indication of their social acceptance towards homosexuals.  For some reason we just let our guard down, something that can be incredibly dangerous when you’re traveling, regardless of who and what you are.    So take some time after reading this and be thankful for the personal freedoms you enjoy, especially if you’re a member of the LGBTQ community.    It wasn’t that long ago and only a short flight away, where they cease to exist.

 

 

Activism and the Lightworker

Many of us that identify as lightworkers often feel as though they are tasked with a very important mission in life.   This mission, sometimes still not understood or realized fully, is at the core of their being and perhaps even led them to the discovery that they are lightworkers themselves.    The term lightworker, usually refers to someone that’s of high vibration, uplifting, and has a desire to spread this sense of well being around the globe.    What happens though when a lightworker’s mission in life contradicts with this practice of spreading light, and literally does the opposite?   What if in the process of activism, a lightworker brings “to light” acts of humans which are disturbing to others,  in effect, lowering their vibration?   Can a lightworker successfully fulfill their destiny and at the same time make others feel a sense of love and worthiness?    I often struggle with these questions myself and present them to you for your feedback and point of view.   Perhaps we can both learn a thing or two and help each other out at the same time.

I always grew up wanting to help others.    I can remember at the age of five telling my mom I wanted to be a waiter in a restaurant because they got to “serve” people.   I totally believe this was me as a young lightworker realizing I wanted to live a life of service and to make the world a better place.    Lightworkers aren’t a new thing, you can look through history and find them… those figures wanting to make a difference and challenging the status quo.   Sometimes they make indelible marks in our collective consciousness and we find their names in school books and documentaries, while others are no further than our next door neighbor or family member, the one that always helps out or simply brightens the room with a smile.    Not to pat myself of the back, but I truly love to make and see people feel happy, especially with laughter through my sometimes unusual sense of humor (yeah, I get myself into trouble often with jokes no one seems to get or even finds offensive.)  I also love sticking up for the underdog, quick to offer assistance to someone I feel is being taken advantage of, or being wronged somehow.

When I was in the fourth grade, my life in activism began as I stood up for a group of classmates that received sour popsicles during lunch time.    You had to pay an extra .15 cents for this geometric wonder of frozen orange juice, and I didn’t think it was right that none of us could eat them because they tasted so horrible.     After over an hour of going from one school employee to another, and my teacher thinking the experience was way cool, I negotiated free popsicles the following day for my everyone at my lunch table.   An activist, or even an injury attorney was born!  Lucky for me I stuck with computers, but my roots in sticking up for others were firmly in place.

Fast forward 37 years later (shit I’m old) and I’m still trying to do my best to help the planet, but I noticed recently this came at a cost.    As many of you may know, I’m pretty new to Facebook, and the ability to share information truly amazes me, even as an information technology professional.    It can be an amazing tool, and hey if social media can sway an election, it can obviously sway minds in a positive direction, such as one of my passions, educating others and protecting wildlife.    As a docent at a local zoo, I was able to effect change through one-on-one personal interactions with visitors for almost 18 years.   Only now I can help my furry companions by spreading information on my time line!  Oh Joy!   It didn’t occur to me though that some of the content I would be sharing would be considered offensive or disturbing to others.    I had even been asked to curtail my posts,  alter them to accommodate the reader’s preference.   After explaining this would lesson the effect, and that you could hide posts from your timeline that you don’t like, as I often do,  I wondered if this was an isolated incident, or if others felt the same.    Turns out they did, although it had nothing to do about animals… it was politics.    Damn.

O Magazine Cover

This cover from the latest issue of O Magazine, encourages its readers to take on a cause and “be the light you want to see.”

This month on the cover of O Magazine, Opera Winfrey touts about shining your light, clearly a call to all lightworkers to get involved and do something!   Oprah Winfrey by the way is the Fairy Queen of all lightworkers, she comes to your dreams at night when you turn 18 and ordains you.    Okay, that’s so not true, it’s 21, but the point is that much of what Oprah is famous for is making others feel empowered and making them feel good, the goal of most lightworkers in some capacity or another (I would like to think.)   However, I had made someone feel bad by trying to spread my light and make others aware of how their money can end up supporting big game hunting.    And making someone feel bad is not something I ever like doing, nor is it a nice thing to do knowingly, which I didn’t.    Yet the activist in me refused to back down and I didn’t change my posts.    I figured the good I was doing was too important and outweighed any bad that might come as a result.   You know, the greater good!    Does this make sense to anyone?

If you think you have this figured out, this ends up taking even a more complex twist.   Several weeks ago I went to see Abraham Hicks speak in Orlando Florida and I actually got the opportunity to sit in the hot seat and speak to these amazing group of entities.    We’re all besties now.  If you follow Abraham Hicks and their teachings long enough, you’ll realize a bit of a recurring theme… that of physical, but not energetic pacifism.    In many of Abraham’s teachings, they speak of not needing to feel as though you need to save the world (which isn’t broken according to them,) or to get the President impeached, because all you need to do is adjust your energy accordingly and reality will adjust to your vibration.   In other words, just be a lightworker, spread your light and think positive.   Don’t piss anyone off and your vibrational attraction will, in turn, effect change.   No offensive imagery needed, just let your vibrational output do all the work.    Seriously?    You mean I don’t need to raise awareness?   I am the awareness?  Woah!!!!

So now maybe you can see what I’m dealing with here.    I want to make people happy, I want to change the world, I don’t want to piss people off, but I don’t want to see baby harp seals clubbed to death.   And I really want no-kill shelters and I want a mini-pig… well a pig that someone thought was mini but realized there wasn’t really such a thing and it grew too big and now it needs a home.   That’s what I want to do!   Commas omitted intentionally.   I don’t know if I’m prepared to just say Rosa Parks could have just thought of sitting in the front seat and the same reactions through time and space would have occurred.    I think for that to happen much more people need to know about the Law of Attraction.

Well that’s my issue.    So I ask all of you… is it possible to be a lightworker and an activist?    Don’t all lightworkers want to be activists?   If you’re a lightworker please comment below and let me know what your feelings are about this.    Perhaps there’s some middle ground or maybe it’s just an all or nothing approach.    I just want to keep doing what I’m doing and not piss off or hurt anyone in the process.   Is that even possible?

Thanks for reading, you all rock.    I’m speaking to the lightworkers here, everyone else sucks.    Just kidding!!!   🙂

 

 

Constantly Seeking Approval

“Please like me.”

“Please like what I have to say.”

“Please love me.”

“Why do you only like what I have to say, why didn’t you love it?”

“I think you suck for not liking me.”

Looks sort of mental doesn’t it?   Did some emotional crippled person write this before going into a manic episode?    Didn’t Glenn Close say this in Fatal Attraction?

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Being A Leader, A Follower, Or Both

I have a friend that sometimes annoys the hell out of me when she says:

“That person is such a follower, they’re not a leader, they just do what ever that other guy wants.  They can’t think for themselves.”   

The names have been removed to protect the innocent.

I’m sure you’ve heard this before and sometimes I even question myself and wonder where I fall in this scenario.    Am I a leader?  Or a follower?   Do I just take orders and advice blindly, or do I put some thought into it first?   Most recently, while pondering the cracks in my ceiling before falling asleep, (okay there are none, but it sets a mood) I realized it’s beneficial to be a little bit of both.  We should know when it’s best for us to let our inner leader shine and take command, and know when to let someone else do the driving, be the follower we need to be, and learn a thing or two.  Sometimes we might even realize that we’re following to a point that we’ve stopped thinking for ourselves, and that’s not a good thing.   When we do that, we give up a part of who we are, a slice of our identity, a hand it over to someone that may or may not know what’s in our best interest.  That sort of following can be seen in many areas of society, most notably in religious organizations and political affiliations.

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The Need To Control

I was looking for parking the other day at the local grocery store and immediately located a middle aged man, with just a few groceries, loading his vehicle.    This was probably the most simple and mundane of tasks, not requiring much effort since the amount of plastic bags he had in his cart was probably fewer than twelve.   Yet he seemed to relish in the idea that I was anxiously waiting for him to finish and leave so I could park my car.    Clearly he was in control and he milked the opportunity… so much so that another person came, loaded their vehicle and left before this guy finished.    I ended up taking that spot instead, with some level of satisfaction that the guy with control issues never got to achieve a power-play orgasm.   Clearly he would have climaxed while backing out ever so slowly, suddenly stopping for traffic that wasn’t there.  Still, I was completely pissed off at this obvious and pathetic need to control.

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Why Are Gay Men So Damn Needy?

I’m sure it’s happened to you before.   You get home after a nice date with a handsome guy, he looked just like his pics online, so that’s a plus right out of the gate.    Sex was pretty much a slam dunk so he’s definitely getting a second try and you’re actually looking forward to it.   You get the usual text message accompanied by some cute emoji…

tonight was really great, thanks for being so cool.”   

 You smile and drift off to sleep as you contemplate how dating really isn’t that bad after all.

The next morning you wake to the familiar routine of shutting off the alarm on your phone, oversleeping, and suddenly realizing you’re late for work.    As you rush to get yourself together and out the door, you notice you have a text message on your phone which must be from the office reminding you of a meeting you’re late for.  In what has become a very automatic set of movements for your fingers, you navigate immediately to your texts and retrieve the poorly timed piece of information…

“thinking of you.”

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The Toxicity of Social Media

I’ve only been on Facebook for a short amount of time relative to most, a couple of months has gone by since I made the leap into this digital equivalent of humans in herds.  I administer content management systems at work (ECM), so the least thing I needed was a personalized version.   Then my blog came along and I gave into the temptation of having a platform to share my articles.   While during my first week on Facebook, I was amazed by this unified form of consciousness I seemed to be observing, I quickly became aware of a darker side to this mass method of communication.  Unlike social interactions in the flesh, people feel free to act or react in ways that they wouldn’t do so in public.  I used to teach an orientation class at work on cyber manners, back when this new thing called the Internet became a tool for business.   It was then that I was first introduced to the analogy of people acting the same way online, as they do in their cars, especially during incidents of road rage.  The comparison was made of someone getting in front of you in the movie line, to if they did the same action in their car while driving.   In the later example, you might scream and yell at the person, shoot them the bird and hold your hand down on the horn.    While if you acted the same way face to face, you’d probably scare the shit out of everyone around you and might even get arrested.

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Still Stronger Together

This past week it seemed like Americans took a huge leap backwards in time, and in human progress.  We saw scenes unfold on live television that we thought were only reserved for documentaries and high-school history class.    We heard angry words from the mouth of our elected leader, the President of The United States of America, refusing to condemn those representing a way of thinking which humanity attempted to extinguish in World War II.    So many lives lost on a global scale, so many families broken… all disgraced by someone that has proven to be the antithesis of leadership and what it means to hold the office.  Our nation is angry and justifiably so.    We are all witnessing the very destruction of American principles and freedoms we have come to cherish as citizens of this country.   In the processes, we’re also seeing that hate and vitriol is contagious, and we’re turning on our own friends and neighbors, accusing them of putting this monster in office, all too eager to pick up the first stone and cast it.  We’re also forgetting American values, like democracy and the freedom to choose, in an effort to assign blame.  Ironically, the words of Hillary Clinton are more relevant now than ever,    “We’re stronger together.”

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My First Week On Facebook

Many of you have never known a world without Facebook.   By the time you were old enough to read and use a computer, this revolutionary technology of communication and complex algorithms that identified friend or foe was already around.   You’ve never known a world without a friends list, a world without a wall or timeline, a world without this connection that spans continents, age, sex or sexuality.   You’ve been born into this arena of mass communication that I never knew.   Until now.

I decided to join Facebook only for selfish reasons, I was a frustrated writer and I wanted the world to see what I had to offer, wanted an audience that would appreciate what I had to say.    I wasn’t prepared for what I would find.  Initially it was much of the same, guys looking to hook up.  After all, I was fresh meat as my partner Eric put it, the new kid on the block people had somehow missed while looking for new friends to add to their ever growing list.

But what I found was humanity in it’s best and worst forms.   I found people bearing their souls, telling anyone that would listen about the darkest times in their lives.  I found people sharing stories of hope and love, and I found the in-between… people neither happy nor sad, just those content with telling others about the remains of their day.

In this first week of Facebook I’ve seen some pretty intense drama but I’ve also seen a global community seeking change.    I’ve seen a collective consciousness crying out to the Universe, wanting its voice to be heard, needing empathy and compassion, love and respect.    I’ve seen hearts broken and families reunited.   I’ve seen way too many puppies and kittens and other furry creatures that still manage to make me laugh.  I’ve seen what it is to be human.    The good, the bad and the not so certain.

While the technology is old in industry terms, and some would argue its time has come and gone, I think there’s a more important ideal it brings to those seeking truth.   It’s our message in the bottle, our representation of what the human race considers dear and precious, no matter how obscure the author is or was.

Perhaps in a millennia or so, the Earth might be a charred cinder, floating in space, the end result of occupants too intelligent for their own good.   But in the ash, perhaps a server or two will survive and provide some passerby a glimpse into what it was to be human.   That in itself is priceless.

Thank you Facebook.