Boys and their Toys

Bubs received some motorized train toys for Christmas this year, well…last year technically. At first he only really liked to play with them minus batteries, but he’s comfortable with their intended function now. He likes to turn the trains on and off, and set them in various directions in various places throughout the house. He also enjoys watching them on the track that came with little Thomas, though he can get frustrated when they derail.

Anyway…I was watching this activity the other day, whilst in a particularly existentially-angsty mood, and it occurred to me that this child’s toy was a fairly resonant metaphor for life.

Someone carefully designs and builds you, and sends you out into the world. You’ll go around the track for awhile. Sometimes you’ll be derailed, sometimes you’ll get stuck and need a push from another engine. Sometimes your batteries will run down and need to be recharged/replaced. Then, one day, whether you’re on the track or not; whether your batteries have just been replaced and your paint has been touched up, and you spent the weekend resting in the depot, your motor will just stop. And people can cry and toddlers can beg for “barries” and parents can look for a replacement, but none of these efforts will ever move you around that track again.

The Kids Are Alright

Passing thought…this is the first generation of children to grow up with the omnipresence of social media such as Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. With so many parents compulsively pressing the ‘post’ button on every moment of their child lives, I’m just curious about the consequences. Can one suppose these youth will be satisfied with their online presence when they reach the age of consent? Will it contribute to the collective narcissism of an entire group of people? Will they exact their revenge on us when we are old and senile, posting pictures of US drooling and in diapers on THEIR social media?

The possibilities are Orwellian.

No Sympathy for the Devil

I am still here!
Just experiencing some technical difficulties…herniated disc in my back that inflamed the recurring depression that spiraled into “Why oh why would/should anyone listen to anything I have to say?”.
Crippled in more ways than one.
Reading a little (okay, a lot) of Hermann Hesse and Sylvia Plath brings me up again…for awhile.
Tons of ideas sloshing around in my brain but nothing solid enough to grab onto.
But I’m still here.