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Day 363: Brass Tacks

Don’t plague your head about it. A fool’s gold is a bucket of kisses. And an empty pocket of promises. Love will turn anyone into a fool. There’s not a soul that can escape it. So walk on. Never mind the rocks in your shoes. If you feel the pain, that’s good, Son. They’re just there to remind you that your feet work. And they’ll take you far from the dirt of this old town. Far away from the devil and the locks and chains that hold you down. Let the ocean sting your eyes instead of tears, Son. Feel the shift in the current of air as you get in close. And then swim. Heart open. Arms flailing. If the day comes where the water rises high above your head... shine. Shine like you ain't ever seen a day of rain. Just don’t plague your head about it. A fool’s gold is a bucket of kisses. And an empty pocket of promises.

Day 355: Sacred Sunday

Today I went to a hipster pop show that celebrated religious music. It was set in a community center theater that looked very much like a church. Only instead of an altar they had a stage. And instead of host or holy wine, they had beer and a merch table. As I sat there in a wooden pew, hot sun shining through stained windows, fanning myself with the festival program I tried to recall to memory that 'going-to-church' feeling. All that sitting and standing and kneeling and sitting and standing. Yawning uncontrollably. The unbearable urge to stick in the exposed shirt tag of the helmet-haired lady standing in front of me with the strong perfume. You see, my dad was a devout Catholic so we had to go every Sunday. Our church wasn't anything to write home about. It was a small old army barracks that they converted into 'Our Lady Queen of The World'. There were no majestic high ceilings or stained glass, just some pews and an altar with a cross. It was plain. It was hum

Day 354: Pass Go, but give me all your money.

I feel like you don’t really know the people you know until you play Monopoly with them. In my experience, the fun and laughter board games are supposed to bring, do not apply to this game. This is serious play-money business. Faint hearts should stay on the sidelines with the official rules that come with the box. I say this because, have you noticed how the rules change depending on who you play with? No? Then you haven’t met my family. Cheater 1: Nooo, I rolled a double. That gets me out of jail. And I land on Park Place by default. Cheater 2: Yesssss! Free Parking! That means I win all the money in the middle of the board and each of you have to give me twenty bucks. Every Thanksgiving, my family would rent a cottage up in the mountains. After a long day of hiking in fresh air, excessive eating and drinking, someone would traditionally utter those fateful words: Hey, let's play Monopoly! It always got ugly. Mom, for starters, instantly became a mobster. She

Day 349: "A good day, ain't got no rain."

Tonight, after a family dinner at my parent’s house (and after my sister and her family noisily tumbled out the door) I found myself sweeping the kitchen floor. Over the clinking and clanking of dishes in the sink, dad calls out to mom in the other room. Dad: Rosa, did you take the garbage out? Mom (muffled) : Yes. Dad (not hearing her): Ro? Did you do it? Or do I have to do it? Tanya, ask your mother- Me (cutting him off) : Yes, Dad, she did it. Mom (loudly now) : He can’t hear me anymore! Yes , John! It’s done. Dad: Ok, thanks honey. Can you pass me the dishcloth over there? Then we got quiet, and I could hear the dryer tumbling in the other room. The scent of fabric softener and dish soap wafting through the air. My eyes were on the floor as I began sweeping under the same kitchen table as I did back when I was seven or twelve or nineteen… And without warning I had a flashback to ‘teenager me’ sweeping in my childhood home. I was wondering about my homework

Day 346: A Message

Very early yesterday morning, I made my way to the hospital to get all the electrodes removed from my head. It’s a pretty funny set-up they have in the EEG department, it sort of looks like a hair salon. They have salon chairs and sinks, and blow-dryers. Since I was there at the crack of dawn to bring the equipment back, it was just me and the technician. He was a soft spoken Indian man, with the loveliest Punjabi accent. He directed me to my chair and got all his equipment together to start the removal process. Him: So this is the good part, where we remove the torture device. Me: Yeah. It wasn’t so bad, just awkward. And the glue made my head really itchy. Him: Yes, that’s very, very common. OK, Tanya, I’m going to need you to close your eyes and keep this towel against them. The product I am using is acetone and dangerous to get in your eyes. Me: Acetone? Like nail polish remover?! Him:  Yes. Me: Is my hair going to change colour? Him: Not supposed to. Me (eyebrow

Day 341: From scratch.

Relationships are kind of like baking. It’s a tailored science. Extremely hit or miss. You can follow a tried and true recipe down to the last detail and it can still fall flat because you opened the oven too soon. Or the wrong blend of spices can end up making something that tastes nothing like dessert. Even when you were certain their combined flavours would be amazing. You try it, and it just doesn’t work. Or maybe, horror of all horrors, you got way too buttered up that nothing stuck like it was supposed to. The whole thing just fell apart. That’s not so sweet, I’m afraid. So why is it, that fail after epic fail, we keep fastening our apron strings? Why do we crave it even though the last time it burned our tongue something awful? Wouldn’t a diet offer better perspective to making healthier choices? Probably. But not everyone can get a perfect chocolate soufflé their first time around. Sometimes you have to try a batch or two (or three) until the timing and the blend

Day 333: Gypsophila

"This house shall permit a yard, but not a garden." The builder specified that in his contract. Such a shame. You see, the buyers were avid gardeners. Who wanted nothing more than to sit and watch their flowers grow. But this home was all they could afford.

Day 328: rite de passage

In the lessons Life teaches us we are, at best, attentive pupils. Always searching for reasons. Always looking for signs. And Faith becomes a wishing well of sorts. A place to rest and drink, when we remember we’re thirsty. After our thirst is quenched, and our day is done, we return to home base. We settle comfortably in our living rooms, and try to live. We discuss our day without ever seeing each other. We don't need to. Because where there was only one white elephant in the room,  Ganesha himself has arrived to replace it.

Day 327: Rainy day, please stay.

It is storming, storming, storming. Seems like there is nothing a grey cloud can’t blow away when it wants to blow. And there she blows! The Present and the Future… it’s all knee deep in water. Trying to stay dry. Holding on to tree trunks. Eyes closed tight, praying into their wet sleeves. But the Past is not concerned. Oars in hand, she is looking for a raft. And she walks down the rain-drenched streets, determined to sail away.

Day 325: The Great Disconnect

Don't you see? The tangible becomes the mystical. And the dream becomes a ghost. Trudge ahead or fall behind. This road has changed course faster than the memory can manage. But it manages time. It manages power. It manages expectations and throws them there in the concrete. Walk one foot in front of the other. Find your stepping stones and toss them at glass houses. Lose control. Win a heart. Conquer a demon. Befriend one. Possess a thought until it possesses you. Hold on to the stranger who reminds you of Perfect. And who shares their pocket mirror. That’s the key. That’s how to find Tomorrow.

Day 324: Goggles.

It is quite extraordinary, really. I can see you. But my eyes can’t focus. The shape of you is so distorted. So dissimilar. So out of reach. That I sense I was mistaken. And yet I feel something. Inside me. Ignite. But my thoughts don't converge. And my feelings have reshuffled. That I can’t seem to name them. I can’t seem to claim them.

Day 322: Arms. Cross. Horns. Flag.

In the distance between No and Yes , there’s a lot of ground we’ve not yet covered. And every question that brings us to either answer, casts shadows. Or illuminates them. Each one an uphill climb. Or a downward spiral. A corner to turn or avoid altogether. And endurance is carefully managed. To stand guard on this goal that must or must not be met. To give it the space it deserves. Or the time it has earned. But a showdown looms overhead. Promising rain on a cloudless day. Anticipation and Fear call for swift Judgement. And we find that Maybe fits rather comfortably. Like a glove that keeps us from getting our hands dirty.

Day 319: The Ace Is In Your Pocket

We all belong to something. We have our parents, our siblings, our friends, our partners, our colleagues... And as we blend, converse and grow we pick up things from them. Our language and mannerisms become influenced, as do our tastes, and decisions. We can't help it, we become products of our chosen and unchosen environments. And our personalities reflect that. But there comes a time in every life when you have a moment of: "who am I outside of all of this?" Trying to figure out what parts of you work. And what parts are holding you back. It's a scary question to ask. That's the tricky thing about this journey of self-awareness, going your own way is a very hard thing to do. It means asking the difficult questions. So many of us don't. We move past that and rally for answers that come from not questioning anything. We rarely filter out everyone or anyone else and make a choice or decision based on gut feeling. Based on intuition. The hardest person to get ap

Day 317: Two Times.

We’re such funny creatures. Double dipping our toes in the water even though we just checked, and it was too cold. Or too hot. We double dip because we want to make sure. And because we like to feel the shock of temperature on our skin, let’s be honest. We could learn from the first go around. Cold is cold. Hot is hot. But a second time really drives the point home. And it seems a good amount of us want to learn our lessons twice.

Day 295: I'll have the usual, please.

It’s typical how we chase ‘boring old normal’, like it was our favourite dress to wear, when an uncomfortable new reality doesn’t fit at all. I was just lying on my balcony chair, with an ice pack on my head, watching the clouds fly by me and cursing myself for ever wanting more than I had. We are too often not in ourselves, not present. Holding on to the past, worried about the future. We seldom appreciate the normalness of life: the good health, the ordinary love, and the simple walls that contain us.   What a shame. Normal is the best thing on the market for a good quality of life, and we indebt ourselves attempting to buy everything else.

Day 284: "two, three, four, tell the people what she wore..."

It would seem that in ‘public pool world’ it is absolutely fine to check out both sexes. You might even hold the gaze of one or the other. But what’s really happening is that you’re looking at the men to decipher if they are on your team. And you’re looking at the women to compare their bodies to your own. This game can last all afternoon.  And it does. I see it happening all around me. It’s a people watching extravaganza. It’s the envy parade. It’s enough to never get you off your towel and into the water. It's exhausting! I have, only recently, become quite comfortable in my own skin. 33 years old…it’s about time, right? This is my body. I could do a lot more for it, quite honestly, but it’s alright. I have curves.  But aren’t women supposed to have those? I have imperfections. But doesn’t that make me human? I have hair that looks like a mop after being in the water. But aren’t hats so stylish? The point is, I feel it’s time to cut myself some slack. I am not goin

Day 283: The Primrose Path

Was there ever a brighter day? Was there ever a darker night? Waiting with anticipation. Tickled pink with shades of vermilion. Thunder crackled in her heart. And she held the wall for support. The weather was clear. But still the breeze coated her skin with the light touch of rain. Lingering doubt was no longer welcome. It tried to fly to her, but it was a bird with a broken wing. She took it in her hands, caressed it, and placed it on the balcony. Looking back at it for only a second before closing the window behind her. She drew the shades. Lit a match. An aroma of incense clouded the room. And like a wet rag of smelling salts she inhaled the sweet smell of unbottled sin.

Day 280: It's raining.

Ask any heart to confess its weakness and it will sound like rain against the window. Soft and gentle. Hard and tumultuous. Steady and strong. And after the heart has confessed the windows shine brightly. Clean. And clear. Until the next storm passes through.

Day 270: Master Of My Own Demise

The Matrix. Not just a movie. It’s the code impossible to decipher by singles on dates everywhere. Situation: You go on a date with a guy you have a huge crush on. You talk. You make assumptions with the conversation. You test the waters. You speak in code. On purpose. You act a little the way you think they want you to. They don’t respond to that, so then you act like yourself. You look crazy for changing mid-date. You’re not playing games. You’re just nervous. You like this person. You think. But you can’t tell if he likes you. Vague signals are sent your way. He smiles at you. Sits close on the pub table. Your outer forearms are touching. You feel a little jolt of chemistry. You relax. Then he says, “You should totally sell your stuff and live abroad if that’s what you want to do.” Your body tenses up. What does that mean on date #1, exactly? Matrix. In one sentence he tries to figure out where you see this 'relationship' going. In another,

Day 266: Rush Hour (how to get nowhere fast)

What starts the love rush, exactly? And let’s forget sexual chemistry for a second or two. What makes you realize you are in over your head because your heart is bursting? Is it a look? Something they say? What triggers it? That “oh shit, I think I love this person” rush that infects your insides. And there is no turning back once the rush hits. It’s a scary, truthful, sobering flood. You now have something and  someone  to lose. You now have a very good chance of getting hurt. If they love you back? High-Fives and Hallelujahs! But if you know they don’t? Ugh. Then terror is amplified tenfold and you’re swimming in the deep end. In the dark. All alone. Reciprocation is key. Reciprocation is the life jacket. That’s why, friends, it’s important to understand what started the rush for you. The look? The words? What has left you with nothing but saturated, condensed feelings that overwhelm you at will? You have to figure it out. And then Ol’

Day 265: for safe keeping

There in the attic we accumulate particular keepsakes. Out of our peripheral vision but always overhead. Some days, rainy ones, we want to climb up there and peruse through them. For old times’ sake. To shake our heads and get overwhelmed with emotion. That distinctive blend of heartache mixed with gladness that comes from surveying the past. Attics can hold trunks and trunks of treasure troves. Some heavy with souvenirs. Some light and simply waiting to be filled. But the trunks themselves can be like solid, solitary crypts. Their dusty lids silently reminding us that perhaps our greatest treasures do not require a final resting place. Perhaps our greatest treasures do not need to be found again and again. Like every beautiful thing that sits with time, they will age and fade away. Try as we might, we cannot hold a moment in our hands forever. Or fold it neatly over blue tissues and place it in an airtight box for preservation.

Day 258: The Sunday Shift

The Sunday shift can be a crapshoot. You never quite know what to expect. Who might turn the corner, and surprise you by walking right in. Who will leave you tongue tied. And who will turn your day around with a gimlet and easy conversation. It’s the ‘old world’ way of finding your way. Around a new town. Around new faces that blend in with the familiar. A penny for your troubles and a dime for the bartender. That’s the way it goes, if you so choose. And at the end of the night, when you tally it all up and the cash register cranks open to empty wooden slots, you don’t mind. Because the Sunday shift is the best shift. Even if it don’t pay much. *The Sparrow 5322 Boulevard Saint-Laurent. MTL , QC

Day 246: Dear Me, Look Up.

Sometimes, like today, it can be Christmas in June. Sometimes amazing luck rains down with the sunshine, and makes you forget a bad burn. Sometimes a best friend chooses to move a few streets away and the summer feels brand new. Sometimes people honor you simply by letting you into their lives and telling you their stories. So when you feel your life has turned too quickly on a dime. And are puzzled by the lessons you are forced to learn before you feel ready to. Remember that it is not all Heads or Tails in life. Sometimes it is just plain Hearts.

Day 231: "You keep handing out horseshoes. Horseshoes have gotta be tossed."

For years I thought it was OK to just wait for things to fall into my lap. Artistic opportunities, jobs, lovers… And they did. Strangely enough. My sister always said, “You are the luckiest person I know, things always come to  you !” She was right. I was just a lucky person. Until I wasn't anymore. And things stopped falling into my lap. $10,000 development deals with Warner Records turned into corporate gigs with a latino band. My day job was no longer a part time thing but a daily ritual to pay off accumulating bills. And I was suddenly single in an unfamiliar dating world that had become shallow, tricky and complicated. What happened to my horseshoe? All this time I had been holding onto a lucky star, and I never realized  it  let go of  me . I got lazy, didn’t pull my own weight and it dropped me. I soon gave up on what I wanted. I was repeatedly drawn to people that I thought had a special spark or talent. And I bent over backwards to help them,

Day 222: back step

When you see people from your past (thank you facebook) moving on and you still feel kind of stuck in neutral, you start to wonder about your decision making.  I don’t know. Maybe it’s all this gloomy rain, but I’m taking a good bit of the blame tonight for the things that didn’t work out. My stubborn mindset. My fancifulness. I think about the real progress I’ve made individually, and how crucial those independent steps have been. But I guess the question tonight is: when you hold onto your freedom so tightly, are you really free? Or are you just alone? 

Day 215: Evolution

Yesterday I had a nice catch up chat with an ex-boyfriend.  He played a major part in the evolution of my personality as a woman. He was my biggest fan. Front and center of all my shows. Always telling me I was beautiful, talented, and making me feel sexy. He pushed me out of my cocoon and my traditional upbringing--challenging the boundaries. And he gave me the confidence of never doubting for a second that I was loved. As fiery and passionate as our relationship was, we too often were two roosters in a cage. And eventually that stopped us from evolving as a couple. But the woman I am now would not be possible had I not left him. And the man he is today would not be possible if he had not met the women he did after me. And then today I spent time with an amazing woman. Out of all my friends, she has evolved the most. Leaps and bounds! I can remember walking about town with her while she struggled to find her place in this big ol’ world. But with a bit of time and t

Day 213: You choose. You chose.

The spotlight glared on my face and the crowd hushed. I closed my eyes for a second to hear my thoughts.  My head whispered, “Pick Door Number 1, trust me, it’s the smarter choice”. But my heart… My heart had already chosen. As I walked towards Door Number 2 a bead of sweat dripped from my brow.  I touched the handle, turned it slowly, and opened the door. The crowd voiced their disappointment. There was nothing there. By default, the other contestant got the prize behind Number 1. Her friends and family rushed over to celebrate with her. Balloons fell from the ceiling, and the band played. The host put his arm around me and said, “That’s the game, kid. Better luck next time.”

Day 212: Weighed In The Balance

You know. Yes, you understand. Mediocrity follows you around like a shadow you can’t outrun. Doesn’t he? And because of him you never quite get what you want. Every corner you turn, there you are. Standing in your own way. Doing what’s right. Saying what’s wrong. Watching passion parade past you. Horns blaring. Sky falling. Like a feverish dream you lived inside your head, once upon a time. Yes. You understand that every small thing could change everything. But you know best how nothing comes of nothing.

Day 179: floating at sea

There’s so much beneath the surface. So much the eye can’t see. The truth is, we’re all icebergs. Broken off from something larger than just ourselves. Our depth can be misjudged. More often than not. And we can sink even the mightiest of ships. Simply by attempting to keep our heads above water.

Day 177: It was sunny.

We were sitting in the tall grass on the mountain checking out the view. There were signs cautioning us of black bears. But we were too busy talking and being silly. I showed him how to play ‘chicken or rooster’ with the weeds. We played a few rounds. I remember he laughed really hard at something. It was infectious. So I laughed too. And I thought to myself how much I could love him. If only he’d let me.

Day 175: the escape route

An unrecognizable reflection in the mirrors you cross. Your own impulsiveness has made you feel like a stranger. You’re not even sure why. But you look away. For now. And until you can properly articulate what you need to say, you choose to stop talking. Because it’s a bundle of contradictions in your mind. And how do you explain feeling lost pacing your own corridors?

Day 168: It will leave you behind.

Like an out of body experience I lived yesterday completely outside myself. I was moving, eating, listening but I was somewhere else. Completely. Unable to get any vacation time, I took a holiday from me for the day. Unconsciously. Without choice in the matter. It’s like my Self said, “That's it! Enough of you. I need a break!” And I’d catch myself staring into space listlessly while friends were conversing or laughing. I wasn’t thinking of anything. I was blank. I just floated above it. I wasn’t there. It was weird. And my body felt heavy. Like those dreams where you can’t seem to stop falling asleep. So disconnected. So dazed. I didn’t like it. I wanted the rest of me to escape, too. I wanted to run after my spirit and apologize for being such a pain in the ass lately. To ask it not to leave me here feeling so zombified. But I didn’t have the energy to. I just didn’t. As I walked out of the restaurant we were in, I saw a flyer. It

Day 164: Kiss me, I'm Irish!

OK I’m not really Irish, but what's a little white lie in exchange for a kiss? Kissing. Is. Amazing. Isn’t it? I think it is. It’s underrated. A dying art in a world too quick to cut to the chase and cop a feel. And if it’s done with the right physical appetite between the two kissers, well… It can be transcendental. The first kiss can be bliss. Built up with a soft sexual tension. Ample curiosity. The shyness, the newness, the spark. That first time you both lean in with intent. Foreheads close. Lips an inch apart. Breath shared. Hearts beating fast. That second before your lips are introduced. It’s so short, but it feels like time has stopped. Just to prepare for what comes next. Then the lips touch. And you’re lost in it. The discovery. It’s soft. It’s urgent. It's timeless. It’s a gateway. Silent communication at its boldest. Worth the little white lie. Don't you agree?

Day 163: The one about the cat napping.

Almost two years ago my friends and I met up at a restaurant for Marcie’s birthday dinner. Well, I was waiting for them to arrive because as usual, half the crew was late. Really late. Like lose-your-reservation-if-they-don’t-arrive-soon kinda late. Here’s why: Christina: We tried to save a pregnant ... Marcie: ...toothless... Christina: ...cat from having her child in the cold September rain. On our way rushing down the stairs, we spotted her meowing. And pacing uncontrollably. We knew something was wrong. Who paces like that if they’re not stressed? Marcie : I initially thought it was an ironic joke, because my b-days are always so colorful. Remember the one when I got dumped via a short note? 365Attempts : I do, buddy. Christina: The cat-napping was so much worse than that. 365Attempts:  OK, back-story to the cat napping thing is that Marcie was volunteering at the SPCA around that time and suddenly had very sharp spidey senses anytime animals were concerned. So,

Day 160: "so much past inside my present"

There are only 3 ways to know what time it is in my apartment: my computer, my cell phone, and my cable TV. I woke up and all these clocks had changed an hour ahead. I didn’t have to think of it. They did it themselves. They were ready to move forward. Ready to move on. Without any hesitation. They are wiser than me.

Day 154: Voices

Guest Blogger: sideproject Discussion: Voices. sideproject: I’ve been thinking about voices. A voice can escape from your life. If it is ever granted a return, its singular existence becomes the access to memories, emotions…mistakes…laughter. A voice can make you cringe or make your heart start to race. It’s the only part of a daydream that you can’t actually replicate authentically. You can imagine being with a person, you can study their picture, or re-read their emails, but amongst all of the exploration of the past, the voice remains protected. It’s almost like the treasure chest of emotions. Once you hear the voice, the chest opens. Pandora’s box. 365Attempts: It’s true. It’s the vivid missing puzzle piece that breathes life into the fantasy. It’s the reason we save voice mails.  To remember the inflections, the accent, the enunciation, the turn of phrase, the familiarity. To make it real again. Otherwise, it’s just our voice doing a really poor impersonation. si

Day 152: sweet freedom whispered in my ear

So green. On the other side of that fence. My side is still covered in snow, slush and mud. But their side isn’t. It’s a beautiful, luscious kelly green. Always. It’s lovely. Isn’t it? I want to walk on it, barefoot. I want to lie down and feel the prickly blades of grass on my skin. I want to feel it. I just don’t get why they walk out of the house with shovels. Don’t they see there’s no snow in their yard? Don’t they see how bright and green their grass is? Don’t they?

Day 132: execution of the artist

Being born an artist with a dream is not an easy path. But you choose no other. This is what you want. And you feel it in your bones that it is what you are meant to do. So you work tirelessly at polishing it and pushing it forward. You put yourself out there. To get noticed. To build an audience. But art is subjective. People will like you or they won't. You will get labeled. You will be criticized and judged. Good or bad. And as hard as you work at getting just the right amount of exposure, you'll learn that most success comes from timing and sheer luck. You get so close and then the stars don’t align. That's just how it goes. And while you are still scraping for your third and fourth chance, some of your peers excel and hit the jackpot on the first try. That simultaneously blows your mind and rips you to shreds. Because you look at them with pride, awe and admiration at what they have created, but start to feel that you will never be that good. That

Day 128: Pet Peeve--The Slow Talker

This individual is commonly found in middle management positions. They are also known to volunteer toasts/speeches at company gatherings.  Slow Talker   Profile: Likes to indulgently pause between words Likes to click his/her pen repeatedly while saying, “What was I gonna say? Likes to make bubble popping sounds with their mouth while trying to remember what they were gonna say States commentary S-L-O-W-L-Y in a roundabout manner that is hard to follow Easily loses their train of thought if (heaven forbid) someone interrupts them Dream/Fantasy way to deal with said pet peeve person : Press a red button on your desk as they commence speaking that triggers the projection of a giant, neon timer on your office walls (and that also plays the Jeopardy theme song). After 30 seconds, a loud buzzer rings. If the person is still talking, a secret trap door opens beneath them and they disappear. Semi-Realistic way to deal with said pet peeve person: With your cell phone o

Day 124: Father Time you are no friend of mine.

How often in the course of one day do you check to see what time it is? I do it a lot. I am regularly in dispute with the clock. Asking it to go faster because there is something I am impatiently waiting for. Or petitioning it to slow down because the lines on my face are getting deeper. And more often than I’d like to admit, requesting to go back to  a moment that is so far behind me I’m afraid it will be lost forever. But doesn’t all time get lost? When everything that is will soon be what was ? Don’t we barter time with every one of our breaths? Time is not a friend. It is a spirit, a ghost. It dissolves as it happens. It disappears. It passes. Who could hold onto a ghost, really? I think about what the world will look and feel like 500 years from now. When I am not here and you are not here. And ‘our time’ is a thin chapter in a history book some distant relative may be studying. I wonder what they will think of the time we were given. I wonder what we will thin

Day 114: The One About Google Searches

My buddy sideproject has guest blogged with me here a few times. Usually we get on MSN Messenger to write about our topic together and then I copy/paste the entire conversation into a WORD document before posting it here. Well today, she opened up a Google Document online that we could both view/write on simultaneously. AND (get this) see eachother’s keystrokes live! Too freaky! The conversation that ensued is not thick with plot, but a live experiment with the many wonders of technology (and Google in particular). **Please keep in mind (to better follow the conversation) that as sideproject is typing I am line editing, formatting, and fixing grammar.*** Discussion: Google Searches sideproject :  Did you just erase everything we wrote before this? That was the warm up. 365Attempts : Yes. Yes I did. sideproject : Anyway. I want to post about how when you Google ‘ac’ the first options that pop up are ‘acropolis’ and ‘acrylic nails’. This opens up a whole new world. You