I imagine my thoughts as amperes streaking around the ever shrinking "room" within this inscrutable cyberspace. There they are... bouncing around like a pinball, illuminating beacons here and there, if only for a second, causing a contained ruckus, where any points earned don't count for particularly much. But, when I approach the shiny box, I am sure that I have to put in my quarter.
While becoming grown-ups, we (some of us) learn to fight that desire to feel like our quarters hold more value than others'. What counts is what we are playing for. Are we playing because the blaring sirens and glistening lights have hypnotized us? When it's all over do we throw a fit because that's all we got out of our quarter?
I want to play to change the numbers up top.
I have noticed lambs to be far less noisy than sheep*.
I have noticed that using our hands seems a far better way to communicate now.
I have noticed that when we use our hands we don't need the lights and camera to record the action.
I have noticed that a voice is better heard when it's on paper.
I have noticed that we spend more time on building up places than building up people.
"I've tried patience, but you always want a war."- Imogen Heap
* Noted with pride: former Northstar 4-H Treasurer and member of the Horse, Sheep, and Rabbit groups. Sadly, though, barnyard quadrupeds are so NOT conducive to all ALL-WHITE uniforms (but the green neck-tie was sorta precious).
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