I was taught to write letters with traditional etiquette and style .... "Dear So n so, (drop down a line and indent) How are you? I am fine. How has the weather been in ____? It has been very rainy here, which is fine by me. (drop down a line and indent) etc etc and so forth ..." I wrote a story in 2nd grade about "What Life Will Be Like in the Future," and thought myself very fine and clever afterwards, especially when I received my gold star and the teacher's praise. The glow of writing success! Keeping a diary since I was 10 years old, I've no doubt established myself among the crowd of devoted journalers throughout time ... but does the Cosmos keep track of such things? "Dear Diary ... Does anyone know I exist?" Putting pen to paper is as natural to me as walking, it seems ... I love everything about paper - the smell, the feel, the look, does it have those little fibres in it, indicating some "craft" behind its creation? (I have a journal waiting for something special that actually has a teeny tiny gnat incorporated into one of the thick handmade pages ...) Of course now paper also brings sorrow and anxiety because of deforestation and what-are-we-doing-to-our-home-and-how-can-we-leave-behind-our-dependence-on-oil-and-when-oh-when-will-we-stop-killing-each-other-and-ourselves-in-the-bargain. Strange idea - each other and ourselves. Each other
is ourselves ... I think.
Anyhow, the point is that when I read the beginning of Joe Lambert's warm hopeful text - I mean, ....
capturing lives, creating community... for pete's sake! who doesn't want to do
that - I realized that though I use a computer nearly every day for my work, I have a tenuous distrusting relationship with the beast, at best. As I immersed myself in Mr. Lambert's ideas and stories, I felt hope, relief, joy and excitement all welling up within me, and these things caused me to draw near his fire, draw up a chair, and listen to his tale. Of course, the book had to be closed eventually, and I turned to ... The Beast. The glaring screen that after awhile makes my eyes feel like they're being sucked out of my head, the incessant blue blinking on the 4G device that tells me I'm powered up and working out in cyberspace - wherever
that place is ... and there's a flood of underlying complications and implications to boot of which I was formerly unaware. I visit the "Introducing Ourselves" Discussion Board for my class, and I "meet" there people who I immediately assume to be on friendly terms with their own Beasts - people who naturally turn the thing on to look stuff up and play and mess about, like Moley and Ratty "messing about in boats." On the other hand, when I realize that now, with a wireless connection, I can Google that question instead of calling my friend, co-worker, neighbor, etc., I'm not infused with a sense of freedom and access, but of sorrow and loss.
So ... I close it, shut the thing down, take a break, I'll be back tomorrow. And tomorrow (which is now yesterday) I come back and the blue light blinks and I'm on The Thing again, and I'm inching forward in my understanding of the class requirements - gone are the days of the paper syllabus and my ability to check off my items accomplished while highlighting what's left to be done. Instead I'm Blogging (I think that's what I'm doing - can anyone confirm that for me? Is anybody really
out there???) at 4 am on a rainy morning (I love rain - just sayin' ...), and trying to reckon with the fact, of which I was formerly unaware, that I am ill at ease with inviting Technology to be my friend - and I mean, a real friend and companion, not just one of those Facebook-type-ersatz-friends, I'll have you know!
Once again, I default to paper and crack open the Miller text, and there it is again, with a slightly different sense ... I stand on the threshold of a very wide, wide expanse, an unknown, a never-before-entered-into Land of Virtuality. We're way beyond Google here or creating folders and files and stickin' em on a flash-drive (the ability to do all of which caused me to think myself pretty savvy "for someone my age ..." ). We're talking en
joying the Beast, creating with the Beast, utilizing the frightening capabilities and tapping the nearly limitless resources of the Beast ...
I've entered a Brave New World. See? It's 4 am. It's raining. The birds, and my family, are still peacefully asleep. I'm surrounded by piles of books, papers, things to do, glorious familiar stuff. But the point is .... I'm Blogging. Please don't tell me not to capitalize the word. For now, this activity is of such significance that I feel I must. Till next time ...
The girl was only five when she lay in the grass, looking up at the clouds, and wondering, wondering. How could it be true, what they said? Could God really be dead? Her parents seemed sad and tense and all the world seemed to be in upheaval. 
What could it all mean? A sense of intense loneliness enveloped the child as she lay there, gazing up into the sky. But wait ... She saw something with her mind's eye. There was the familiar grandfatherly figure in his long robe and beard, holding all that IS together. Comforted, the child skipped away into the house to inform her mother that God was indeed not dead, as many suggested. She had seen him, and all was well. "I don't feel lonely anymore," thought the little girl. "I just wish everyone could be as happy as I am, and poor people could have everything they need ...." The concept of poverty had lately established itself in her consciousness, and was troubling and difficult to understand. For now, however, she'd seen her God, and that was enough.
