Our Obsessive Compulsive tendencies used to be private, and they were hidden because we were ashamed of our compulsiveness.

But that all changed once we got a hold of “blogs”. There is a blog for everyone and every compulsion. From bad cake decorating to a fascination with the morbid. Out there, there is someone else totally fascinated with Monkeys made from stuffed athletic socks, and they want to be your friend. MORE>

We are a lucky lot to be able to ask for more and not be recriminated for it. It is American to ask for more, more of everything. The more you have, the higher the standing you have. You can sit on a mountain of collected “stuff” and be the King of the Hill. In other countries, all they have fits in one bowl, and that bowl is emptied as soon as it is filled. How lucky are we that we can empty our half empty bowls and fill it to the brim just because we can? How lucky.

The Bowl as a Metaphor:

Yet we hold our hands over the top of the bowl when it comes to ideals we find distasteful, we even go as far as to turn the bowl over to show that we don’t want that. And then we turn other peoples’ bowls over so that they cannot have it as well, even when they protest. We swat away those hands, and keep a vigil to keep open; it is a constant battle scooping out the detritus that falls in and coats the sides. However with the freedom to be able to fill our bowls with whatever we please, we also have to allow everyone the choice of what they want in their bowl and not to slam it upside down. Because if that happens, then we come to the point when we will ask for more, despite the consequences.

Since the beginning of time we have been a DIY society. DIY is about saving money by “doing it yourself”, from home repairs to making a sweater for your son. The idea of a homemade dinner brings up nostalgia of a past we might not have ever experienced, but as a shared memory from the collective conscious. We value the craftsman, the hand tailored, the one of a kind item that no one else has, it makes us feel special.  MORE>

Image: Ophelia Chong / Loving & Knowing

Before the internet, change was measured in increments that spanned years, now it is measured in versions. MORE>

I received an invite to join BranchOut, a new application on Facebook that allows me to see where my friends work, where friends of friends work, and to expand my career network. MORE>

Thank you Heather Covault at Kolo for your support and kindness!

He held a plexiglass box, similar to the ones I had to fabricate at Art Center during my undergrad years. It was filled with blue and white bits of paper.

“She’s had two affairs already.”

I thought “Now you know how it feels.” I felt relieved that now I was not crazy anymore. My past hurt feelings had been validated by his, his present mood was the footnote to my story.

“My father died from a liver cancer. You know he died?”

Yes, I did. He died about 5 years ago.

“I still love you.”

I was not taken back by what he just said, I was comforted that I was loved, and could be loved.  And that there was forgiveness on both sides.

He then started to lick my face.

“Party like 1999….”  blared from the clock radio and I opened my eyes and stared out the window to the blue sky.

Image: Ophelia Chong / Searching

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