We are living in an age of self-reinvention thanks to the improved 4G-5G upload. We no longer are “mad like hell” and have to open our windows to shout. We tweet and post, blog and comment, share and re-post. We found those missing pages and pics in the albums and the attics. Yet with all…

We open the door, walk out of it, then turn around and come back in. If that’s our every day scenario, we wouldn’t go far. People are meant to “bump” into each other, like it or not. Tensions arise, conflicts abound but also progress achieved Only the lonely that can afford prejudice: the Others are…

Expand and contract, thesis and anti-thesis then synthesis – a new thesis. History repeats itself. Technology just does what it wants: the flow and fluidity (courtesy of Kevin Kelly). Life like a river stream, flows and extracts raw materials to ensure its momentum. The results: lots of waste. Climate change, pollution and 2 degrees Celsius…

Billy Crystal once found his one thing ( all I remember was his sore butts back from an urban cowboy ride) in City Slickers. You and I perhaps are not too different: sored and stressed from trying and failing to acquire and achieve The thing. If stuff makes one happy, we should all be hoarding…

I have taken trips throughout my life, many of which I wished I had stayed and never come back (damn those two-way tickets with expiration dates). Some of those trips were just few-week stops along the way of some restless summers. You may frame me as a sort of backpackers. Except the term has been…

Keep moving. Let the future grab and pull you forward and upward (spiral). Don’t allow a certain (negative or positive) event or people to define you. Hang on to your guitar, your camera, your pen, tools which help you in good and bad times. Money is still the root of all evil as it has…

Anger, protest and revolt. Things are still as they have always been. Peace signs, peace songs….and peace icons. Then, revolt turns to retreat. Yoko Ono now crowd-sources “My Mom is Beautiful” on Facebook Page. Back to the basics. Back to the wombs that carried us: safe and secure. Your Mom is beautiful. Iranian and American…

We’ve all got moments worth-retelling. But all will be gone to waste if it’s not from and by us since we’re both the narrators and the primary source vs through someone else’s recollection of us, or worst of , they stole our thunder by re-telling about us as if we were absent in the room.…

It’s somber, it’s sacred and sometimes hidden away in secret. Like an Ishiguro’s novel, “the Buried Giant”. Like a shrine discovered in Tinker Creek. We tend to forget and we will. No cure for that, yet. But incense, chant, and statues will evoke deep-seated memories. Of times Mom tried to nudge me to bow, to…