Hello, awesome readers!
It all begins with …
a question …
a need to connect …
a five-minute reward for having accomplished a task …
a bathroom break …
But before we get to that, let’s call a spade a spade. We’re busy. We’ve got a to-do list the length of a stallion’s hind leg, milestones to reach, places to get to, and other beings – whether dependents, pets, or friends – that count on us.
My mom: I haven’t heard from you all week. Is everything okay, dear?
The teenagers: I’m hungry.
The dogs: Let me rest my head on your keyboard while you loovvvvvvve me. *drool*
Friends: Yo! What’s shak’n? (Kidding. My friends don’t actually talk like that. Maybe. Perhaps.)
That’s the life stuff. Then there’s work. No matter what you do – writer, dentist, dog walker – there’s a flow to how you do it. If you’re anything like me, you get lost in a bubble and that’s how you get to your best you … by going down the rabbit hole of your own intentions.
That’s ONE kind of rabbit hole.
And then there’s the OTHER kind of rabbit hole. It goes something like this …
Your entire existence is suddenly over-taken by a pull, not unlike crack cocaine, and without warning YOU MUST KNOW AND YOU MUST KNOW NOW:
Who wrote the lyrics to “Me and Bobby McGee”?
Who you gonna call? Well, Google of course.
Within seconds you learn that the song was written by Kris Kristofferson and Fred Foster. Oh and bonus: It was originally performed by Roger Miller.
“Hmmmm … interesting,” you say out loud, yet mostly to yourself. “I’ll bet Julie doesn’t know this.”
A friend from high school. Someone you haven’t actually seen in over 20 years because you probably have nothing in common anymore … except a memory that involves younger versions of yourselves smoking cigarettes behind a convenient store.
And so you let your fingers do the walking and within a few clicks you’re on Facebook.
“Trivia time: who originally performed Me and Bobby McGee?” Feeling nostalgic, you tag Julie. (A life time ago the two of you sat on your bedroom floor next to your turn table, belting out the lyrics with Janis Joplin singing background.)
40 minutes later you climb out of the Facebook rabbit hole with a brain filled with cat videos.
Overcome by a need to share the social love (because you’re generous that way), the crack-cocaine-pull seizes your being once again, only this time it leads you over to Twitter.
“Me and Bobby McGee was originally performed by Roger Miller. Who knew?” #trivia
Your stream fills up with a gazillion unrelated yet equally interesting Tweets and back you go down the rabbit hole.
You hear a sudden growl. It’s your stomach. How do you react? By heading over to Pinterest. Within 13 seconds you find a quick and easy recipe for buttered chicken. You high-five yourself on your efficiency.
But wait! Could it be? Is this a board dedicated to the fine art of organizing utensils? And weren’t you just talking about this with … Never mind. YOU MUST CHECK THIS OUT.
You emerge once again, slightly older yet much wiser, and the first thing you see when you glance out the window is the beautifully setting sun. “Stop! I MUST CAPTURE THIS MOMENT,” you say to your smart phone as you enjoy the view through its tiny 4.7-inch screen. (Somehow this has become logical; regardless of the fact that your old-fashioned window – the one built into your HOUSE – provides a much better view.)
“Karen will LOVE this,” you think as you post the sunset of all sunsets on Instagram.
Karen is a woman from Australia with whom you connected … you don’t remember when or how … but you just KNOW she’ll love your sunset. Somehow the fact that she has her own sunsets doesn’t deter you. Again, logic 2.0 prevails.
Once more, your stomach yells at you. This time it is joined by the chorus of your teenagers asking what’s for supper. Oh yeah, that buttered chicken recipe.
But first, you must check email.
With fervent glare and synchronized fingers, you dive back down the rabbit hole …
Follow this blog with Bloglovin.