The Wall - #3

As I looked at the key, the design triggered a memory. Where had I seen this emblem before? Like visions rushing to fill in the blanks, a picture formed in my mind. I hurried to my room to write a letter to my cousin in England. It read, “Dear John, Do you still have the chest Grandfather kept in his room?”

Sharing this post as a continuing saga from Jenny's weekly prompt @ Saturday Centus.

The Wrong Impression

Have you ever noticed how the wave of social networking and independent mobile devices which are supposed to make the world a little smaller have widened the gap between those who should be communicating in real time? 

And the ability to give the impression that you are something you're not becomes huge.  Like saying you live somewhere when you really don't and chances are you may never live there.  Yeah, lets wait until things actually happen before we make fools of ourselves.  Or let's portray ourselves in a realistic manner instead of making people think we're something we're not.  That only leads to heartbreak.   Because of the lack of personal touch that comes with the continual use of media instead of verbal communication, we're becoming a society of insecure, unsure folks who don't know where they stand with most of the people who live outside their home. 

Like teens communicating with each other via txting while in the same room.  It's like whispering - an action that used to be categorized as rude.  Not only do we now take phone calls in the middle of personal conversations, we drop whatever we're doing to read/reply to a txt.  I recently witnessed a group of folks who used their cell phones/txting to "talk about" another individual in the room.  Things they would never have said out loud.  Maybe it would have been better that way...you know?  Or the group of kids who used their cell phones to jam the microphone signal so a girl they didn't like couldn't be heard during her big scene in the high school play.  Yeah, it's just another opportunity to be rude in a society where the more impersonal we become, the more distance we create between ourselves and the world we live in.  It's a shame because confrontation, dealing with real life situations and sharing friendship/love/feelings has become a lost art.  No wonder there are so many social problems with teens...they don't know how to handle life.

And then there are the txts that are ignored.  Did you get my message?  What is your response to my msg?  Is that ok?  Are you blowing me off?  If we don't get an immediate reply, we feel snubbed.  Or, if you live in a low signal area like I do, maybe the txt hangs in cyberspace until you move to a better signal area.  So if you don't leave your house for two days, you receive all your txts at once...many are obsolete by now or you've created hard feelings because you didn't respond. 

And that's another thing.  There's nothing personal in a txt msg, or an email or a facebook post.  No tone of voice, no facial expression, no body language.  The problem with that is a lack of knowing intention. The great mystery...what did you mean by that?  Are you angry?  Is that a general statement or are you speaking to one person...me?  All this mystery leaves the doors wide open to misinterpretation and misunderstanding.  And in today's society, folks don't have the courage to follow through.  So, you've sent a txt...no reply.  Should I call?  No...if they don't want to get back to me then I'm not going to bother with them anymore.  They obviously don't want to talk to me - be friends with me - reply to my post...etc.   HELLO!!!  Maybe they didn't get it!  Just because you can contact them doesn't mean that they are in a position where they can respond.  Of course there's always the chance that they are blowing you off or ignoring you and that goes right back to the whole rude factor.  And so I have this love/hate relationship with the entire cell phone/email/facebook social networking thing.  It's wonderful for it's intended purpose...but, as with all things, we'll find a way to corrupt it.  So just call me and we can talk!

Here's the way I handle txting.  If you send me a txt and I don't respond within 5 minutes, assume that I didn't receive it or can't respond and pick up the phone.  Don't call my cell because chances are if I didn't get the txt, I either won't receive the call or it will be lost as soon as the connection is made. Do it the old fashioned way...call my land line.  If I'm not home, leave a msg.  If I can't talk then, we'll talk later.  Don't just assume the worst.
Or better yet, let's have tea!

OK, the cardboard box I've been using as a soapbox is breaking down under the weight of my opinions on this so I guess I'll step down before I fall down!

The Wall - continued

Continued...


Turning the stone to wedge it into the wall, I realized it's unique hue and shape...like it was made for a specific place from a different kind of stone. As I scraped a bit of lichen from it's side, I discovered a cavity. Thinking it may hold a fossil or bit of clay, I was curious to see what time had deposited there. As I dug the debris from the hole, I felt my knife strike something solid. Quickly, I poured the contents into my hand. And there, within the stone, wrapped in a scrap of oilcloth, was a tarnished, brass key.

From a story prompt @

The Wall

The wall was built long ago.  Remnants of the barrier it had so boldly proclaimed still mounded here...crumbled there.  A reminder of the lives that had been lost on this lonely field, their battle won.


As I stand here looking over the tufts of heather and heath, I'm thoughtful of the struggle we continue to fight as we turn our hearts toward home.  From a long line of proud ancestors, the fire still flows through my veins.  A stone from the pile of rubble at my feet, I begin to rebuild the fallen wall in front of me as my personal monument to the cause and a symbol of the victory I plan to claim. I am no longer held back by the armies of old...or the crushing power of past conquerors, though their mark will forever remain.

Will I overcome the trials I face?  Will I bear the future with pride?  My heart swells with stories of victories won long ago. Never again to cower in the face of my own iniquities, a sense of peace fills my soul. In this field of memories, I stand tall, a piece of the past in my hand, near the wall that was built long ago.

This post has been shared with Saturday Centus .

Changes

Change is scary.  Sometimes you've done the same thing for 30 years and then you realize that it's not working anymore and hasn't been for awhile.  You stick your head in the sand and try to ignore it but as the joy drains away, you have to admit it.  It's time for a change.  But you know if you make a change, you'll be judged for it.  Because people don't think your reasons are good enough or they chose to minimise your ideas.  But when it comes right down to it, you're the one who will answer for these choices, and it won't be to them.  Oh, maybe on this earth and in this life, they'll shun you and talk about you, but in the end, who really cares? 
I think I've had just about enough.  There's no reason to maintain the status quo because most people won't notice anyway.  They don't now.  We've all been through it and sometimes you just need someone to come along side and love you no matter what.  Friends who will look for you and know that something's changed without having to be told. 
I'm afraid.  Too many what-ifs.  But if I can't find what I'm looking for, should I just continue on or should I step out of my comfort zone and make a change?  Can I find a place where I'll be ok... or will the next step be just the same?  I hate to sound so dismal.  This should be a place of joy and sharing.  It's something that I've been thinking about for a long time.  Maybe it's just me.  It seems like I'm the oddball.  And the worse things become, the more pressing it feels.  It'll be best for all of us...I think.