It's All About Me

Today as I did my usual bedtime ritual of taking an "artistic" selfie and posting 'best of show' on Facebook, I had an epiphany. Everything I do is all about me. My world of social media has turned into an exhibitionist art gallery,  somewhat akin to Yoko Ono's art show some years back when she stood naked in the gallery on a podium. One might say that a Facebook post of more demure demeanor does not compare to the outrageous Ono-Gaga, but in some ways the desire to be seen is not dissimilar.

And then I remember the article about global warming that stared me in the face over a bowl of oatmeal and a latte this morning; a woman in Bangladesh whose land is being submerged and who sold her two children into bonded slavery because she couldn't feed them.

How do these two worlds co-exist, mangled together through the lense of an HD computer screen? Where do I file away in my existence the pleasure of posting funkie selfie portraits and the impending doom of the many?

The world is too small and too large. But it's raining outside and the plants are happy.



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