Txt mssgs can stink

I keep unearthing alternative titles that would fit well with the previous post.

One Big Text Mess

Another puzzling text message

YYURYYUBICURYY4ME?

Ray Bradbury first predicted this common societal distastefulness and failure of hasty thought we’ve sunk into now in contemporary society. Friends and colleagues misconstrue our texts for lack of tone and intent. Indigestible digests, flashy buzzwords and top level tweets all have become our contagious disease filled with adverse effects.

One of my work colleagues surprised me when he faced a tight deadline for his monthly advice column. He waited until the last day before his persuasive and informative article was due and then fastidiously filled out a magnanimous 700 word stream of consciousness, in ninety minutes flat. And it worked! He’s put himself into a good place to accomplish such a splendid feat, while evolving into a better person. His chosen broad background helps large to augment the quality which he spills organically from his fine pen. Perhaps he’s studied Alvin Toffler tomes to prepare for the Future Shock we find in our presence.

It’s true that some folks work better under pressure and I admire my friend for this sharp writing skill he’s developed. So maybe it is I, this Luddite, who needs to hasten his pace and catch up with our reckless era. With speedy serenity and prayer to boot! Yet, something about my friend’s quick working formula strikes me as potential for overlooking key points of information. 

Citizen toolbox class teachers like to reinforce the fact that showing up in person is usually the most effective way for accomplishing whatever mission you might be pursuing. Next in descending order comes: video-phones, regular phones and letter writing. Then we have carrier pigeons, smoke signals and e-mails. Lagging last are text messages and birdy telegraph wires. Marathon runner notes fluctuate with conditions. So why would you ever want to send a text message again, when most of these healthier communication options are still so freely available for applying your vital messages with uppermost clarity? Call our friends while we can. And let's show up well for each other, too!

Average wordsmiths can develop our mediocre skills with bound determination and passionate interest. Polished messages shine with enough time invested to delicately mull over each phrase and word. Frequently a 400-worder like this requires a good seven hours of midnight ethanol invested into the wee hours. Not including enduring timeless walks, crowned with hypnogogic-reverie naps to help process and nudge these focused thoughts through to the surface before consideration of zealous sharing. 

Accomplishing this at a suitable beat even comes down to a matter of respect for loyal readers.  

So, I think it’s healthy for us to have a couple of three works perpetually in motion that we can add and subtract to. A fluctuating living organism, much like newspapers themselves. Not to be blind to specific advantages quantum computing brings from our future, but more a cautionary tale and how we might discuss euphoric openings in the expansive digital arena, and how we might best apply those…

Answer

Too wise you are, too wise you be, I see you are, too wise for me!

Disruptive unexpected events

Part one

After experiencing the mirror image and an antagonist in a haunting dream that juxtaposed several old jobs, R.M. said, “Standing up to him without either fighting or fleeing was a good choice, deflating his energy. Antagonists in dreams typically want us to flee.”

~

The next evening I lost my cell phone on a bike ride and a friend came by and pounded on the door, to tell me that Kathie, the person who found it, had contacted her. We took a quick ride over and I handed Kathie that old Hopi Prophecy / Eagle has landed Silver Dollar as a finders reward, right as the moon was ascending over our Idaho Mountains.

~

R.M. said that this “was the full moon, and its conjunct with Uranus meant some sorts of disruptions, unexpected events.” Soonafter reading this, I received the bad news that a real antagonist in Panama broke into a house, fought, and killed a man who I used to know. He was the husband of my first boss here in Idaho, the founder of the local Recreation District. They retired a few years ago and moved to Panama; building their new home there, since they liked it so much.

~

R.M.’s Full moon & Uranus insights got me thinking further about disruption connections. Kathie, the woman who found my phone, was at the first party, I ever attended in Idaho. It was only supposed to be a little get together between co-workers -somebody’s birthday I believe, probably late February of ’93. Anyhow, this was the first time I met the man who was recently killed in Panama. His wife was my boss and both of them sat across from this same Kathie at a Red Elephant Saloon back table. I arrived late from work and saw a commotion had taken place, right before I walked in. Kathie’s wine glass was spilled and my boss was the one who tipped it over! Turns out that Kathie (who has always been quite fit) had made a comment about body weight, which my boss did not take kindly to, so she thrashed out very upset, saying, “Some people just have a harder time than others keeping it off” - or something like that.

Another strange connection is that the person, who pounded on my door to tell me that I would have cell communication again, lives in my old boss’s house and has several times cited wild parties she attended there in the old days.

~

Another weird thing is that right before attending that small work party 15 years back, a young man decided to end his life Hemingway-style via a self-inflicted gunshot on the cross-country ski path, which we were required to clean up without any special safety or biohazard equipment. I’ll never forget the police asking us, when we were going to get around to cleaning up the blood drenched snow, as it was upsetting the cross country skiers who were trying to experience leisurely afternoons. The department head also wanted this blood instantly washed from the ski path to avoid bad publicity.

~

The Supervisor pulled up an old Ford with a snowmobile trailer, to which we commenced walking over with shovelfuls of bloody snow, which we later dragged over; dripping blood to the Valley Gas Station car wash, rinsing red rain down the drain. This bad omen was my first strong indication of how backwards and jaded the community here is. When I later questioned these procedures during a pertinent moment at a Blaine County Sheriff’s Search and Rescue meeting, the facilitators there were quick to hush me and said they would address my questions later.

~

I had a handful of other disquieting experiences while working on the BCRD Trails. First they never provided health insurance, even though that was one of the promises they made when hiring me. Secondly, whenever I suggested some simple ways to improve things, these were either belittled or ignored. For instance, we had a problem with rodents tunneling under the path, which created dangerous caves and holes on the surface, which could cause serious injuries to unsuspecting bikers and rollerbladers. In Northern Virginia the workers seldom cleaned or repaired the bike path, however they did make time to mark the bad spots with bright red spray paint in order to prevent injuries. When I suggested this same solution to our supervisor, he said that we would not disfigure our grand path with red marks. However, several days later, he flipped-flopped, mentioning that one of the board members, Bob Rosso, suggested that we should paint fluorescent red marks around these offending bad spots and then handed me some paint cans, never admitting that I had made the exact same suggestion, merely days before.

To be continued after this disruption…