Things are starting to change. I have felt this for a while, but it’s becoming more pronounced.

The last time everything changed, when was it? Do I remember it? Well, yes, I guess I do.

It was called Mosaic. And it was called the Internet, or more precisely the Web.

And everything changed.

Not everyone noticed. Not for years and years. But I was a the spider and the fly. I made it as much as I was caught in it.

Now, it’s the warp and woof of everything. Maybe it’s like writing; there are a few illiterate societies out there, but they will be affected soon enough. It’s only a matter of time.

Fine. That was the last time everything changed.

Now, I feel it differently. Last time, something was built. This time, everything is being destroyed.

it’s not so much a desctruction, but a collapse. The flaw was inherent in the system.

There is a granulated self-interest in every single institution that will inevitably cause the disintegration. It’s already disintegrated. We only wait for a passing giant to sneeze, and it will come tumbing down.

Anyone can see it.

I am not speaking pessimistically. I am not mad about it. It’s just that I see evidence of institutional disintegration at every turn.

I am trying to find examples of where and when it is working well. Because when people can work together on something they are all excited about, that is the  next thing.

I am looking. I am looking. I’d like to see that next thing

I was watching Veronica have some time with her daddy this morning. They seemed happy, so I got a plastic shopping bag and went outside to do what I do pretty much every weekend.

Pick up doggie poop

I was sad. It has become a favorite mommy-daughter activity. As I make a slow grid pattern over the lawn, Veronica will trail me, paying close attention to the grass. Sometimes she finds it first, but if she does not, I will stop and point.

“Look! What’s that?”

she will carefully look around and then point her chubby toddler finger and announce “Doggie Poop!”

I will carefully wrap the plastic bag around the offending matter, and we will start our search trek again.

She’s very serious about it. Sometimes, she will even count the pieces. “Doggie poop! one…two..three!”

“Very good!”

She will not always take this task so seriously. She will not always be this companionable as I do my (no pun intended) duty.

AND plastic grocery bags may not always be available. They are under attack from different sides.

So I was sad this morning, because I didn’t have my apprentice in the dog poop patrol.

Then the back door swung open “She wants to come with you!” Chris announced. And my tow-headed delight came running out to join the party.

“Look! It’s doggie poop!” I told her.

“Doggie Poop!”

Life can be really funny sometimes. I don’t want our doggie poop saturday mornings to stop.

So, I have a daughter. She’d the only child I have. I thought I might like to have a son, but that didn’t happen.

Now, Boys are fun because they are so active and brave. My little one is pretty active too. But she does what girls do.

And what THIS girl likes to do is go out and have breakfast on a weekend.  I am pretty sure most sons would not find that charming.

She just turned 3, and I’ve decided it’s time to begin the brunching.

She does alright. She enjoys playing with the sugar packets (they make an interesting noise when you shake them), and she is happy with the kidcups she can get. “Horsey!” She likes the scrambled eggs and often says “How bout french fries?”

…requesting something not traditionally on the menu might very well be exactly the sort of thing a lady doing brunch should do…Although I will try to redirect towards potatoes.

My goal, as we progress along the brunch training path, is to get a full cup of coffee.

“I just heard that Norah Jones is doing a country album…”

my reply “I just got an album from a group that is British Country Acid House…”

Nerds are supposed to be ‘in vogue’ right now.

But, that sort of response I gave to a casual conversation…THAT is the essense of nerd-dom. Because the other woman said “I have no idea what any of those things mean”

and that was the end of that conversational train of thought. No “Please explain.”

Maybe I did the faux pas. Maybe I just should have said “oh! Fancy that! Norah Jones…”

But I wanted to talk about it, and about what I was thinking about the topic.

They didn’t have a way to even pick up that thread.

sigh

It’s lonely at the nerdtop

Yesterday in a toastmaster’s meeting, the speaker was talking about new year’s resolutions and goals. She was encouraging us, reaching deep to instpire.

“Imagine this: What would it look like if you were to be a hero a year from now?”

I know she was trying for us to do positive reinforcement. But for me…”hero’…It is a tired word.

HEROIC is an adjective that seems always to be followed by “Sacrifice”

Billy, Don’t be a Hero. I’m not wanting to be a hero. You know, maybe I’m retiring from being a hero.

Not for my current crop of associates.

I was telling chris about this. He said “If you throw yourself on the grenade and nobody knows it’s a grenade, what does it get you?”

Exactly.

I’m tired of the dirty knees and grenade absorption. All the others who’ve seen me throw myself on the ground just keep thinking I’m an idiot.

Fight your own grenades. i don’t want it anymore.

But if I don’t want to be a hero, what then?