Another New Word

I am bound and determined to come up with a new vocabulary word. The definition would be something about the altered state of being when you face the fact that some people actually do read your blog and then you wonder if you really want people to know this stuff about your life, but then of course you realize that it is you and only you who makes the decision about putting the minutia of your thoughts and days out into the cyber universe. Why is that important? Why would anyone do this? I don't know, and I'm one of them.

Maybe it's the same reason that guy put his phone number on youtube.com and now he gets a phone call a second. He looked so earnest on one of those morning shows, when the Katie-Couric-ish host said, 'C'mon, smile! You're on TV!' And he could only keep his heavy face as he talked about how people would call him because they had no one else to talk to.

It's our need to connect.

A friend recently said that she sees blogging as a way for the world to heal. I like that.

The new word I would want to invent is something how electronic writing makes real life different. Better. Richer. Weirder. It's like you see someone to whom you would usually simply say "hello" if you saw them on the street. But since you've read their blog, you know all these details of their life and so you wonder if you should say something like, "Oh, I'm so sorry that you're leaving campus on Friday. I will miss you. Take care." Or if you should pretend that you don't know, because you don't want that person to know that you read their blog. Or should you keep the message in the same format, i.e. respond blog to blog. Real life to real life.

In this instance I let myself live in mixed-mediums. I actually hunted the kindred blogger down when I saw her half-packed car in the parking lot. Hunted her down by wandering around the apartments because I didn't know her well enough to know where she exactly lives, "Karen?! Karen?! Are you here? I wanted to say good-bye."

"Karen is upstairs," someone else offered out the screen from another apartment.

So I searched upstairs, found Karen, and had a good-bye that would not have happened if it were not for blogging. What would you call that? I would have been sad if I didn't say goodbye, because even though I didn't know Karen well, I did know her when she was a little girl because I was a youth director in her church oh so long ago. Just felt connected.

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"I said the F-word to my kids." This was my admission to the now-famous Sarah Ford, who wrote such insightful messages on Bob's care pages. I saw her last week while in Baltimore. Sarah Ford, who finds a way to find peace with just about everything, unabashedly said that she already knew that because, "Terri, I read everything you write word for word."

That's Sarah. She is who she is. Doesn't care what anyone thinks. And so at home with that. And, yes, it was me anyway who already put that story out there for one and all. Why? Healing, I guess. I think the other friend is right. Blogging is for healing. Made me feel better.

I just wish blog was another word. "Blog" is so, like glog or clog or grog. Or remember those scud missles? It's like scud. There's got to be a better word. That makes two new words to come up with.

Anyway, thanks for coming over to the liver blog, friends. My dog-gone digital camera is on the fritz and it's just making me crazy because I'm missing out on so many good pics. This camera has become my new vital organ and now it left me just like the liver did, only I don't think this one is coming back. I'm missing so many good pictures. Our May Day cups. Aidan riding his bike like freedom set loose; just shy of 8 years old, he's finally riding his bike. After years of saying "I will never, ever, never ride a bike." Like someone else I know who said he would never, ever go to any kind of grad school, much less seminary. Freedom set loose at 50.

So the best I can do for today's picture is to post my avatar, which I'm discovering is a great way to 'visualize' when you telecommute. This is my office avatar.

With love, T