Shortly after we moved to the States, someone asked if I
used alcohol. Wondering briefly why they cared about my cleaning products I
answered, “I’m not sure what’s in this brand.” But I do drink wine and my
questioner took offense at my misunderstanding.
Using Twitter may be a similarly incomprehensible source of
unutterable confusion. I search for hashtags (#5minutes, for example, when advertising
5-minute stories, or #’random-string-of-letters’ when supporting a random-string-named
tweet group). I hover my mouse over a resulting miniscule splurge of pre-shrunken
information, then click on the little blue “retweet” that appears. It’s almost
magic, but I’m still not sure if it’s “using,” “abusing,” or merely failing to
use the song of the birds.
Hashtags let people search for something—like #5minutes—and get
a filtered list of random results. If you want your message to go to someone
you don’t know, they’re worth a try. Retweets mean the message gets sent out
again, so more people searching might find it, maybe, if the haystack’s aligned
with the right side of twitterdom. And tweet groups mean a group of friends, or
e-friends, agree to retweet each other’s messages, thus expanding the amount of
e-verbiage in the e-universe.
My Mum once asked what I was doing on Twitter, and why the
text on the page made nothing vaguely resembling sense. “Oh, I’m just tweeting,”
“I’m using Twitter.”
“Little old ladies twitter.”
She wasn’t convinced, so we both “used” another glass of
The wind howls but it has no strength and cannot tumble me. The wind howls and it might be wolves. They will not come for me. The wind howls and the branches bend but they will not break or fall. The wind howls and the ages send their answer. Hear their call. The future howls, and past unseated all.
When the chess board’s gray on gray And the pieces fade away And the sky is night and the night is day And the kids are refusing to play, Numbers turn into words; Queen to d 4 is heard And the gasp--what occurred?-- Sweetly furred, ‘twas the cat For she’s gray as the stormcloud And faster than mouse At chess-pass. Then the child Sets the board up with smiles And says, “Hold her Mom now While we play.”
I’ve set the time. Just bring one thing back, just one iota of proof. That’s all I need. I’ve set the place, just needs a little refinement. I’ve set the carrier wave to bring me home. I open the box. “Mom, where’s Daddy gone?” says Sam. Didn’t it work? “I don’t know. That’s strange.” Can’t they see?
“I’m here,” I try to shout with my silent voice, plastic face all
frozen and still. I’m here beside the manger with ragged robes and a box
in my hand—a cross between a shepherd and a king. And there’s no going
so possessive about his stuff. He’s got this box he brought home from
work and no-one’s allowed to touch it. But Sam hid it in his pocket
before church. He’s pulling off the ribbons now, face so intent. I lean
over his shoulder—just to peak. It’s empty. Church is going
overboard on incense these days. It stinks. Then I hear an animal noise,
see a camel, and look up into the face of a king. What’s going on here? Choir’s still singing. I hear Peter’s voice, “I thought I told you…” and I’m beside him in church again.
Daddy said “Don’t open the box,” but it’s Christmas. Who doesn’t open
stuff at Christmas-time? When Dad’s not looking I pull on the ribbon and
climb inside my spaceship, rattling, shaking its way to the stars. But I
don’t know why it lands me on a freezing cold hillside. Sheep bleat miserably and Christmas tree fairies sing carols out of tune. A boy tugs my arm, shouting, “Hurry! Come and see.” Then my Dad takes the box away from me. “I thought I told you…” I open my eyes to Sunday’s choir and church. But how? What’s in the box?
I depend on my spouse for my home;
He depends on me to keep the hearth aglow.
I depend on my kids for youth; they on me for growth.
I depend on my government to keep it all afloat
and more and most
I depend on God.
Maybe independence is the freedom to know
True dependence is rights and responsibilities both.
Find another Five-Minute Bible Story spotlighted at the Virtual EBook Fair again this weekend
Mirror mirror on the wall
who's the fairest of them all?
Who can answer, who can see
Who can tell without deceit?
Who can listen, who can hear
When the truth is whispered near?
Mirror mirror silence please
'Cause I don't want to know.
Want some great reading samples? Want to find some good ebooks to take on vacation? Then head on over to the virtual ebook fair. It's happening every Saturday, but the doors stay open after the music's stopped and the pages still turn. Just go through the gateway at http://samplesaturday.blogspot.co.uk/ and see. And don't miss my booth at http://sheiladeethstudies.blogspot.com
Prancing ponies fall asleep
Dancing lightning doesn't keep
Music's silent, wheels stand still
Strangers look down from the hill
Packing dreams and stalls away
Nothing lingers, nothing stays
Chancing children's promise gone
Day the passing fair moves on.