Online Legacy

Believe it or not, this is post number 100!  Wow.  I just love round numbers and celebrating milestones, don't you?  And when they come together, even better.

Today is Mothers' Day and I could not help but notice the outpouring of love and affection on Facebook.  Yes, right after talking to my mom (along with my sisters) on the phone this morning, that's where I headed.   Visiting there more often than before these days,  and have come to realize a thing or two.

NO HOLDS BARRED
For example, the other day when this guy passed on, having committed a horrible and atrocious act (murder-suicide), folks took to his FB page to comment (read: vent and curse).  It was something to behold. I stood from a distance and watched.  The posters started turning on each other as they took sides  - no holds (nor language) barred.  Finally, about 500+ comments later, the page went down. 

After telling her about an experience I'd had shortly after starting my more frequent visits to FB, my lil sis gave me a bit of heads-up.  I'd commented on a post from a friend and someone else made another comment disagreeing.  On top of that, she added a term that, when interpreted, was essentially dismissive.   And I'm thinking: "I don't even know you?! Why would you do that?"  Lil sis 'warned' that, even in that space where you have mutual friends, some people just don't include care in their responses.  There is not always that civility that we have come to know and love. 

ONLINE SELVES

I know.  I've talked about this some, a few posts back.  On the whole matter of our online presence, however, it used to be that we had just this “version” of life to consider – our offline selves. Now, what happens to our online selves when we die? All that information remains “out there”, in blogs, tweets, professional and social networking sites and the like.  Depending on the content, some of it may continue to be helpful to others – inspiring, educational etc. – other parts, not so much.  In any case, in a kind of ironic twist, it lives on.  This may give insight into why many of us create something online in the first place.  It gives us a space to create that which is uniquely us; something that will outlive us and something by which we will (hopefully) be remembered.

Interestingly, however, it also creates an opportunity for others to do what they will with that online legacy or memory.  Where there is free access, free will reigns.  And, given the multiplicity of degrees of separation, especially when exacerbated by the thick wall of anonymity, comments can and do get downright insensitive, vicious and vitriolic.  Such is the nature of this beast that emerges in these situations.  It sinks its teeth into the jugular and rips you apart, simply because it has the means, the motive and the opportunity; sometimes, simply because it can. 

A WHOLE OTHER PERSON

Users of these spaces will quickly realize that they are not controlled environments – in the truest sense.  There are privacy settings, yes.  However, unless we wish to log in and talk only with ourselves, every connection we make constitutes a conscious act of inviting a “whole other person” into your life.  Persons come with their own beliefs, values, biases etc.,  which are not always in sync with ours.  And, as offline, we do not have control over what people think and say.  The natural human tendency is to respond to comments - especially defamatory ones – made about us and those we love.  We can easily, therefore, find ourselves in a quagmire no less agonizing and fruitless than trying to herd cats!   

Well, this greater frequency of exchanges has been enlightening.  Still, there have also been some very favourable moments as well.  (More about those in another post.)  Suffice it to say, I've found a few sweet spots on FB...

Claudia 

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

The Men In My Life

My previous post was dedicated to my girls.  Even as I wrote that one, I knew that the next one would be for my Dad - mainly. So much so that the title I thought of initially was: "The man in my life."  But, truth be told, I'd like to reserve that designation for my husband.  So, this one's for the "men" in my life (quotation marks explained later).

It is at this juncture that one stops, lowers one's shoulders (not realizing before that they were so tense), tilts one's head to the right and looks up at the ceiling - all in an effort to conceive where to begin to write about Daddy.  Well, maybe I could start here:

I HAVE THE BEST FATHER EVER!!!

As far back as I can remember - and my long-term memory is excellent (just occasionally selective) - Daddy has been a man of principle, integrity, wit, charm and charisma, possessing the heart of a Christ-like servant.  To me, his entire life has been a simple, yet extraordinary mix of God, family, church leadership and work.  And, in that order, too!  He knows his priorities and he hardly ever gets them confused.  I find that admirable.  He has four daughters and one wife and the only time he places them before the Lord is in prayer.  Speaking of prayer, I heard him pray out loud for us at one of our family devotions last year.  We'd had an opportunity to be together by Latz Art.  I had to smile when he said stteo: "Father, remember the children."  Even now as I write this, I'm chuckling.  Guess it's true what they say.  No matter how old you are, you're still a child for them!


A FATHER AT PLAY
Daddy now has a grand-daughter (aka KiKi) and son-in-law (aka Q).  It  was a trip seeing him play with his grand-daughter!  I was like, wait! What? Making all kinds of sounds and faces to get her attention.  He'd inform her, mock sternly, that she "shouldn't say" anything to the rest of us, but "talk" to him only.  This, when she was a whopping one month old!  Nothing amused and pleased him more than when she'd go quiet when he came by, after a long stint of unpacifiable crying.  He would admonish her not to mix with the "terrorists" aka "the rest of us" as we'd only come by to "terrorize" her! And on and on it went.  What am I saying?  On and on it goes!  She's a little over two years old and they keep quite the conversation.  KiKi, in one of her earlier sentences, told him over the phone, "Grand-dad I'm hungry." (She had just eaten.)  We could hear him over the phone asking to speak with her mother, to whom was then directed a (mock) onslaught of why she starving the child! Like I said, it goes on...

But that's a peek at Daddy with the family.  What does he mean to me and why do I like him so much?


WHY I LIKE MY DAD
He is one of the best friends for which a daughter could ever ask.  His heart toward me is genuine.  He looks out for me; cares for me and about me.  It doesn't matter how old I am - it never has - I can always rely on him.   He doesn't make me promises he has no intention of keeping and, if I ask him and he says he will, I just consider it done. 

Daddy has never told me that he loves me and there's never a day that I would doubt it.  I am precious to him and I know it.  He doesn't express his heart in words but indeed in deeds.  Now and again I listen to him showering accolades on me or bragging about me in public and I smile a bit, not knowing how to contain the swelling of thanks in my heart.  For, quite simply, I am thankful that I make him proud.


SENSE OF HUMOUR
I like him, too, because of his wicked sense of humour.  He makes me laugh.  And laugh.  And laugh.  Gotta share a recent episode that occurred on my vacation in Jamaica several days ago.  He informed me, shortly after picking me up at the airport, that we were going to head out with Mommy to the Fish-Fry at church. We got there, everything was fine.  The cooks then ran out of festival. But, this was no ordinary festival  This was festival with a twist - literally.  After kneading, they made the dough long and stringy, bent it in the middle, then repeatedly twisted each long piece over the other, before putting it in the pot of extra-hot oil to be fried.  Just before we left, Daddy asked them for the cost - for all three of us.  When the lady told him the amount, without missing a beat, Daddy replied, "Fi wha?  Fi likkle plait flowah?!"  A nearly pop up!!!  But, if you think that's something, you should hear the jokes he tells of his days living in James Hill, Clarendon - the district in which he grew up.  It would please me to write that book: Jokes My Father Tells.

Speaking of writing, he has wanted that for some time - for me to assist him in writing his book.  And I will, life spared.  He even has a title and has recently acquired a tape recorder to get cracking.  At this point in my writing journey, I have come to believe that I can actually do this!


GETS THINGS DONE
I imagine that most children who grow up with loving dads believe that their dad is strong and can do practically anything!  I was no exception.  This was a belief bolstered by a feat that we achieved working together one day when I was about nine.  In order to get a tarp tied to a post in the backyard, he hoisted me on his shoulders, then around his neck.  And there, in full view of those cheering me on, I wrapped the cord around whatever it should have been wrapped around and secured it.  When we were done, they were all pleased, none grinning more than I!  But, that's him.  He gets things done and you just feel pleased when you're a part of it, because you know it's gonna turn out okay.  After all, he's giving his all.


GIVING
He knows the meaning of giving, not just in lip service but in life service.  I have known him to give and provide for others without looking for anything in return.  There are some members of the clergy that get chewed out because, well, because they don't exhibit the heart of a servant.  Instead, they want to be served.  I don't quite know how to relate to that.   For, I have seen giving and a Christ's-servant heart in action, even though there have been some that have turned around and bit the hand.  But, Daddy has a saying, "Right must stay and wrong must go." 

These days, people hardly want to talk about right and wrong.  The risk of being labelled judgemental is very real and way too high.  But, in his mind, right is right and wrong is wrong.  It's a by-their-fruits-you-shall-know-them, thing, I imagine.  And, I admire that.  It takes courage, although he mightn't think so.  For him, it's just what it is.


HIS INFLUENCE
He has grown into quite the gentle giant.  He mightn't stand tall in stature, but his presence cannot help but be felt.  He fills a room simply by being in it.  Respect is earned, it is said.  He gives it and he earns it - and he doesn't stand for foolishness.  He was a strict father. (All his "warnings" to beat us never materialized.  He just held our shoulders and shook us, if things got to that). He never doted on us (three then, later on, four girls) but in his acts of kindness, grew us to realize that it's important to keep your word.  Given his strength and his support - including allowing me to make some heck of a painful mistakes - I have grown into a strong, independent, happy and stable young woman.  There are some things on which there will not - cannot - be any compromise, in whatever the relationship - work, intimate, social etc.  Sometime along the journey, he became my friend.  I am comfortable talking to him about the men who indicate some measure of interest at some point.  I have his support but I also know that he trusts my judgement.  And, he is praying for me. 

You know the saying, "All girls become their mothers" and another: "All girls marry their fathers"?  I cannot even get into the couch psychology on this;  not trained even for that layman level.  What I can say, however, is that there are good qualities in my dad, that I would like to see in my husband - the other man in my life.


THE OTHER MAN IN MY LIFE
OK, so, we haven't yet "connected" - hence the quotation marks up top.  Still, I am calling those things that are not, as though they are!  Not looking for a replica of my dad, but a few like traits.  These include a sense of humour; sense of responsibility; knowing what's important and keeping the priorities priorities.  In other matters:

My husband, Mr. Right-for-me, is a man who will cut open the tin of cheese and then proceed to remove it from the tin, not leave it there on the counter still in the tin, knowing full well that that's the harder part. I am a strong young woman, but removing Tastee cheese from the big tin is pretty demanding!

My husband is a man who is not afraid of croaking liz**ds.  Even spelling it out freaks me out!

My husband is a man who is able to do Maths and can help the children with that and like homework.

And, I look forward to meeting my him, and for the day when he whispers those three little words, "I'll do laundry."  (I've never met a chore I hated more. To parody a Monk line: I hate laundry's guts!)

On a more serious note, though (operative term being "more"), God's gift to me, my him, complements me. Christ already completes me; He is It for me.  My husband, who is also complete in Christ, complements the person I have become in Christ, and I him.  He knows, as Prov. 31 says, that his heart can safely trust in me, so that he has no need of spoil, and that I will do him good and not evil all the days of my life. And, we honour the divinity in each other.

I cannot help but smile as I think about how God perfects all that concerns me.  He has blessed me with a wonderful father, a loving and supportive rest of family.  And, to think, there's mine to come!


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

This one's for my sisters - my girls!

They would not have seen this coming.  An entire blog post dedicated to my sisters!  Figure it's pretty much due and what better time to give the shout out, than the post post my birthday when I turned forty.  I hope not to use the term "4 O" as it sounds so round and full.  For-ty... sounds so pre-tty.  Hey!  That's my story and I'm stickin' to it!

They were gems when it came to recognizing the day and giving it distinction.   But, this isn't about the day.  This is about why I think they are so very special.  And its certainly not an exhaustive commentary.  Just a synopsis, really.


STARTING WITH MY MOM

Yes.  My mom is my older sister.  See, I'm her eldest daughter but she has long been my older sis.  Make no mistake, she was mother first.  The usual - strict, stern, and supportive.  But then, she was also fun, great company, encouraging, rock, prayer partner, cheerleader and my biggest fan. Pretty soon, she became one of my best friends.  I've mentioned in this blog (descriptor) and elsewhere, that securing my website was as a direct result of her encouragement to create my own.  Her two thumbs up constitute the vote of confidence from which I derive much motivation for cyopro.   She continues to love, support me and cheer me on!  Thanks, Mommy.


THE ONE THAT FOLLOWS ME

Aka Empress.  She has a quiet spirit and a pleasant and disarming charm.   She uses that charm almost mercilessly...just kidding.  She uses it, but only 'cause she is who she is.  She wears her heart on her sleeve.  While being the predominantly pleasant person she is, she has also demonstrated much kindness.  It's a kindness that allows her to share her daughter (my niece) with me.  From very near the beginning of motherhood, she has demonstrated a level of trust and confidence in my love of her and her daughter.  I admire that ('cause not all (new) mothers are like that). And I am thankful for it.


"ANNEDDA GYAL" (ANOTHER GIRL)

Aka Latzart.  She follows Empress.  She is rather "free spirited" in a cautious (!) use of the term.  She wears her heart on her sleeve, too.  But, what I really admire is that she loves us fiercely.  Do not mess with me.  She will cut you. (In a manner of speaking, i.e.)  She makes me feel that there is a special place in her heart for me.  I know that there is for each of us, but, I feel it.  And I am thankful for it.


MY "FIRST-BORN"

Aka Zap.  She came along when I was just fourteen.  Shortly after she was born, we went to visit a neighbourhood that we'd left many years before.  I overhead someone ask my dad whether she was my daughter.  (He was used to only three of us.)  My dear dad explained she was their fourth.  Still, that never left.  Like, never.  Whenever the two of us are together - away from the rest of the family - almost invariably, someone will ask whether she's my daughter.  And almost invariably we add, "We get that a lot!" to the usual response, "No. We're sisters."  Zap has given me much practice for when my time comes for real real motherhood :-)   The fact that we've lived together - just the two of us - a couple times, has helped us to learn each other.  I really admire that she gets me. Period.  We know the difference between (and the sources of), "I don't recall" and "I can't recall".  She knows when it's time for us to build THE circle, close it around ourselves and exclude present (and usually annoying) company.  Zap continues to be an honest critic, yet loving supporter, on my writing journey.  We've already agreed that she'll get front seats to my first play!

JUST THANKFUL

For all of them, I am thankful - ever so thankful to God - for the love that they continue to show and the respect that they continue to give.  Thankful, too, that they get it that I am looking out for their best, even when I'm being anal.  A so di ting set!  (It is what it is!)

Girls, how wonderful life is, [that] you're in my woooorrllld!

Love you, lots!  Muuuaaahhh!!!



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

SMH

Today's edition of The Gleaner carries a story entitled: Day of Death.  I read the story and found that the reporter, Daraine Luton, wrote with such vividness, while displaying sensitivity toward the remaining family members. 

I imagine that anyone who's been privy to this story has come away believing that it is, in fact, something tragic and beyond sad.  It is not possible to rehash here the kind and number of comments that have been made in other media.  Nor, for that matter, do I want to.  At the very least, it makes you stop and think.

I wrote a letter to the editor of The Gleaner late in the afternoon, in the hope that it will be published.  The key messages? (1) be prepared for comments of all kinds when you make yourself present online and (2) let your family know that there is a way to delete your account (in this case, from Facebook), if you, or they, so wish to have that done after you die.   (The shortcut to the deletion, which I hadn't mentioned in my letter, is simply to provide your password to someone you really trust.  But, maybe not many people enjoy that luxury.)

My prayer is that God will give all the remaining family members - on both sides - the strength and peace that only He can give.  I also pray that Ms. Joan will be blessed with a speedy and full recovery - the kind that defies all logic.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro.com

The Shift in Optimism

I’ve been smitten by reflections on optimism recently.  It’s great when an ad – for coffee, at that, but any ad, really – can lift your spirit; make you want to burst out in song – or tears.  Your call.

Those BrewSomeGood ads from Maxwell House, along with a few sermons and some Bible wisdom have got me reflecting on the way I perceive things; the way I connect with others.  And what have I found?  I’ve found that somewhere along my lifeline, I shifted somewhat – not a lot but still enough to notice if you’ve known me from Adam.  I’ve shifted from a default “eternally optimistic” to an abashed measure of “cautiously optimistic".


DEFAULT MODE
I'm pretty sure some of it may be chalked up to growing up.  As the saying goes stteo: a man's mind, once stretched, can never go back to it's original dimensions.  One really ought not to have the same mind at 30 as one did at 15, another quipped.  That doesn't mean, though, imho, that the embedded strain of optimism; that positive outlook which forms the hallmark of some persons, have to disappear with a stretched mind.  It hasn't, for me.  But, I most certainly occasionally feel that in more and more instances, it's no longer default mode.  It's kinda, "but then again..."; on second thought mode.


"At least you haven't lost it," you say. True.  I haven't lost my positive outlook; my optimism.  S'just that, of late, in the face of the aforementioned reminders, I'm realizing that I need to get back to where it's my default mode.


THE ONLINE SCENARIO
There are a few things that helped to usher me into this realm.  I learnt long ago - probably it was on the cusp of becoming "cautiously optimistic" - that people are people wherever you go.  If people feel appreciated, they'll likely work more willingly.  If they feel unappreciated, their morale likely will fall.  If they have been hurt, they'll likely put up their guard.  We know it takes a while to build trust and usually no more than one act of betrayal or hurt for it to come crashing down. 


Imagine how much more that likelihood is multiplied for online...relationships.  (I use the term within this context ever so loosely.)  For, connections online are, for the most part, just that, connections.  But, here's the thing (go Monk!)  whenever we venture into an online space, for social networking, hanging out, tweeting or other purposes, we are inviting other people into our sphere.  We connect with followers or those we wish to follow; we accept friend requests and all that jazz, and at the click of a key, we have taken a whole other individual into our lives.  A whole other person!  We might think that it's just their professional side or their online persona.  Let's not kid ourselves.  Try as folks might, they don't compartmentalize as well as they might think they do.  Given time and space, all their dimensions will be manifested to some degree in their "online self".  And, as for those who just let it all hang out from day one? Again, a whole other person!!!


UNEXPECTED STRESSORS
So, when persons with whom you have a common interest (the point of the connection in the first place) begin to reveal sides of themselves that you hadn't seen coming; that conflict with your own values and belief system, what do you do? If they start to relate to the point of hurting you, what do you do? Do you just put up your guard? Start writing off people?  Online relationships carry the luxury - if we could call it that - of immediate disconnection.  No hard feelings - or so we think.  For, in a number of instances, I'm pretty certain that some folks agonize over unfriending and unfollowing - especially when it's someone you at least sorta know or someone you knew from Adam but 20something years have passed without contact between you. As a human being, most times, the act of severing ties in any relationship comes from a conscious decision to do so.  And what is the immediate thought?  "What is he/she going to think?"  or "Does this reflect poorly on me?"  The point is, there is some amount of stress/anxiety related to the decision to sever ties.


How many of us can honestly unfriend or unfollow those we are to some degree acquainted with, without a second thought?  I have found that it's not so easy.  Quite a bit of thought might go into unfriending.  Unfollowing might require a skin less thick.  (Speaking of which, I don’t want to grow so thick a skin that I start looking and snapping like an alligator!  I still want to be able to let some things through; things that will make me think and help me be a better person.  Anyway, moving on…)  More often than not, you don't know these people.  If you do have some passing acquaintanceship, it's a hair's breadth more thought that goes into it.  But, I maintain that persons should not subject themselves to disrespect, rudeness, hurt or any form of abuse online or offline.


The thicker the wall of anonymity, the harsher folks are wont to get when lashing out.  Seen some comment boards lately?  Some of them even allow the 'F' bomb - and I'm talking about (generally respectable) media house sites.


SHIFTING BACK

This foray into 'anything goes' on social networking sites and other media I'm sure has had its impact on my earlier mentioned shift in optimisim.  Sometimes, people are cruel and harsh, simply because they can be. They have something ugly to say and a place to say it.  I was reminded of that the other day, having ventured into a thread of comments.  I went in, realizing that mine was the sole dissenting voice trying to tilt the collective view to a different perspective.  Zilch.   Felt like I was swimming upstream against a torrent of cynicism.  I left the thread trying to put into words that which I was feeling.  Self-righteous?  No, that wasn’t it.  Perfectionist?  Nope.  Tired of all the negative and the spewing vitriol and the unbridled cynicism?  Yes. Yes, that’d be it.  As I tweeted the other day, “Optimism rocks!”  I long ago realized that I see the world through different lens.  Ugly is around.  But, I believe, beauty outweighs it by far. And I shall not lose sight of that. I'm shifting back!

As I posted on the brewsomegood tweet stream the other day - a line from a really nice poem: "I'm drinking from my saucer, for my cup has overflowed."


True that!






Claudia 
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

"I play for the other team"

I heard a guy say that on an episode of a popular TV show the other day.  I'd first heard the term several months ago while on a course at work.  A colleague made reference to a TV host  - how well he carried out his job - then made the comment in a "but-don't-get-your-hopes-up" kind of way.

Since the first time I heard it, it has become like the recently-bought-car phenomenon.  I figured, though, that perhaps it had been said pretty often within earshot before.  Only difference was that I hadn't yet been clued in to what the phrase meant.

It makes me wonder how far "society" has come in trying to come up with "a way to say it"; "it" being as much an operative term as "a way". Given one of my roles as diversity lead in my branch, within an organization ranked as one of Canada's Top 100 Employers a few years now; an organization that is committed to non-discriminatory hiring practices, I have been involved in organizing diversity and inclusion meetings and event-planning more than the average bear.

In one of those meetings we were informed about a glossary of terms that had been made available for quick reference.  This, in light of the fact that sometimes folks who want to engage in conversations about diverse groups, might feel awkward or unsure about using the "wrong" term.  The term might be outdated or not generation-appropriate or some such thing.

I've heard someone say that when he was much younger, a homosexual male would have been referred to as a "queer" by someone outside of that community.  At that time, it was deemed derogatory.  Nowadays, however, he noted that younger "gay" men  (a newer term itself) seem not to mind the term "queer"; as if their use of it is an effort to remove the sting that used to be felt by their predecessors.

I've also learned that the acronym is pretty long, as members of the - can I say it? - queer community seek to be included/recognized.  For a few years now, LGBTQ has expanded into LGBTTIQQ2S, which stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Transsexual, Intersex, Queer, Questioning, 2 Spirited. 

So, when I heard the phrase, "I play for the other team" the other day, it made me wonder about how, in one fell swoop, the term helped to shrink the long acronym, convey the same meaning and, for some, made the idea easier to convey (read: more "palatable" for the older heterosexual generation).

Question is, as is the case with all other diversity, inclusion, multiculturalism, integration and like matters that are encountered on a daily basis, how easy is it to keep up?  Navigating your way through the PC maze sometimes proves a tad challenging.  You might feel like you're constantly having to walk on egg shells. You might decide that you're not going to subscribe to the PC thing.  The choice is yours.  Still, ladies and gentlemen, such is the planet on which we now reside.

Regarding the moral debate concerning homosexuality, especially as a Christian writer?  That's for another post.  Suffice it to say, I go the route of being Christlike - loving people, and knowing that no one is beyond Christ's life-changing reach.  And I say that from a heart filled with gratitude for that reach.

Above all else, love.



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Beyond Extraordinary

As we take a look around us, tune in (even when we don't) to media of all shapes, sizes, colours, bytes and networks, we are bound to see someone who is trying to be extraordinary - and freakishly so.  What is just as certain, is that there will also be someone who is trying to go beyond extraordinary - and freakishly so.

Of course, a few persons come to  mind: Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta aka Lady Gaga; Adidja Palmer aka Vybz Kartel (or should that be "Vybz "Michael 'Cakesoap' Jackson" Kartel" - yes, a couple aliases layered inside a primary alias. Whatever! ) And, not too long out of the gate, with 2.2M+  followers behind him in under a week, Carlos Irwin Estevez aka Charlie Sheen aka Warlock (acclaimed "Winner!", drinker of "Tiger Blood" and spewer of other claims and utterances that are sure signs of an implosion happening in T minus ???)  Just hope somebody knocks him over the head and drags him into a space where he can really get the help he doesn't realize he needs; where the media can stop milking his rants for ratings.

It kinda reminds me of the line from The Incredibles:  "When everyone is special, no one is special."

So, why the push to be extraordinary?  Why the mad race to go beyond extraordinary?  What's the alternative?

The answer surely isn't "Be yourself", for those who fall in either category will be quick to tell you that that's exactly what they're doing.  They're being their own unique selves.  And others who are apparently, by comparison, bordering on "ambitionless"?  Is it that we lack the brand of fire to desire to stand out?  To stand out "that much"? To stand out "so"?

For, I imagine, that the crux of the matter might just lie therein.  The terror of becoming satisfied with being "just part of the crowd"; of being "a nobody".

Well, does the fact that "the world" - definition: YouTwitFace (as Conan puts it) - doesn't know about you, make you less than extraordinary? Keep you, and what you do, from being "beyond extraordinary"?

Says who?  Who's in charge of putting value on you, your vocation, talent, contribution...?

Yet, it's so easy to get deeply immersed in what is being fed to us through every orifice, it seems.  So easy to get and remain distracted for an inordinately long time by the self-acclaimed "value adders"; those with the "value stamp of approval"; those who, in the long run - in this long race - build the "value metre", measure us, find us wanting or not; lift us up or tear us down and so on and so forth.


Do those who strive to be extraordinary in these freakish, "celebritized" ways not soon become creatures - although, to be honest, I'm thinking more puppets - of the "value adders" et al on whose approval they feed?  Do they not constantly try to outdo their last doing, to keep energizing the masses who, in turn, keep them elevated (we bow at your feet, your extraordinariness).

Maybe it's a symbiotic relationship, after all -  i.e., if we could loosely apply the term "relationship".  

And, maybe, we're near the tipping point where they're all beyond extraordinary so none of them is beyond extraordinary.



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro