slow blog

Yesterday an article in The New York Times profiled a few advocates of "slow blogging."  This is the opposite of the normal rapid-fire, bypassing the brain-editor blog.  I thought slow was the norm (I don't read many other blogs). 

Blogs, the article went on to say, are now considered too slow.  They can't compete with Twitter (?) which I have never looked at, or Facebook, which I have, briefly, after saying "yes" to becoming a friend.  After a week or so, I removed myself, needing to consider what "friend" now means.

Apparently, the point of Facebook is to acquire hundreds of friends who will buy us virtual presents, send us virtual congratulations, and share with us their latest undigested triumphs and tragedies.

It isn't all bad, of course.  Connecting is nice (I'm happy you're reading this).  But this isn't friendship, not when the relationships are treated as another commodity to acquire, preferably in quantities that will impress our "friends," proving that we are worth something as human beings.

Sigh.

I'll take slow.

Candace

I didn't know it would feel this good.  

Four years ago, I remember where I was during the last presidential election.  In New York, where Rich was recovering from his first chordoma surgery.  Stopping by my favorite patisserie, I ordered croissants to go; a gaunt young man, in black, was carrying away two large coffees.

"Bush won," he explained grimly.

I smiled.  

Who cared?  My guy won!  All was well!

Not quite, I knew that.  But if I narrowed my focus on my life, my loves, my world...I would survive.

And so Rich has, I have, this world has.  But now we can do more than survive.  We can heal.  As long as we don't expect miracles from our new leader, because gods always disappoint and then we get angry and waste our energy trying to figure out why the creature we created doesn't satisfy.

But we don't have to disappoint ourselves.  

Candace