Tag Archives: text messaging



So smartphone users and habitual texters, if you applied the 80/20 rule to your friendships could you remember to enjoy yourself in the moment; listen to the people you were interacting with; and have a good time where you were… you know, like we use to. Or would the grass be greener on the other side: on Facebook, the internet, Twitter, the person texting about the party they’re at? Anywhere but where you are?

In the madness of technology, how many have forgotten how to be a Luther Vandross song and “Love the one you with?” Has our frenzy for bigger and better gadgets become our adopted personas where we’re constantly trying to upgrade our situation? Yeah, we’ll go and have a good time, that is until someone contacts you and says they’re having a better time. Then the battle of  “good times” ensues. The loser ditches their jag for yours. and reset. and reboot… as the night ensues we look for everything wrong to find a new right. Is anyone enjoying themselves anymore?

“It has become appallingly clear that our technology has surpassed our humanity.”

Albert Einstein

I feel we’ve lost our ability to connect with ourselves and others.  We skim the service but never delve further…  Are we a society of mangled hearts afraid to trust?  What becomes of us if we only allow ourselves to be vulnerable to animals?  Those who guard our hearts and secrets because they are unable to speak?  They can not reveal last night you cried for hours or you made a big mistake the other day, but I’m going to love you anyway.  Is that our fear?  Is that the root of these manic feelings, that we don’t feel lovable if you got to know us?  Are you worthy to be loved, flaws and all?  If you showed society your chips and scrapes, would you be labeled a survivor or a loser?

When the mask is off, what lies beneath is the thing of beauty- a debt paid to society by existing and stripes earned by living.  It may not be newsworthy but how you got to be where you are; who shaped who you’ve become; and where you’re headed in your journey is the true story.  It’s a tale of struggle and triumph.  It’s a saga of morality.  It isn’t a question of right or wrong.

I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you Nobody too?

-Emily Dickinson

It’s validity and relevance is a birthright by rights of humanity, and that is worth sticking around and getting to know.  My jewelry box of friends were found when I dug past the top soil and unearthed rich clusters of dirt… that when washed away unveiled vibrantsparkling gems. 




Leave a comment

Filed under Grow, Nurture

♥ ♥ Text Messages and Phone Calls: ♥ ♥ A short story on how they loved

Miscommunication, bad phones lines, and a rocky morning began their argument…
He had left without her.  It had been an unintentional happenstance.

Woman: “Come Back!”

Man: “I can not, I’m too far to turn back.”

Woman: “I know.


Little Red Riding Hood was hopping through woman’s forest, and each time her hormones spiked the big bad wolf would rear her nasty, wicked head to destroy bridges, demolish foundations, blows houses down, and eat rationals.  She knew her thoughts were not hers, but she lacked control.  The more she dug her heels, the harder the wolf pulled and nipped at her logical mind.




Woman: “You didn’t want me to go, you hate me.”

Man: “Oh stop it!  None of that is true…”

Woman: “It is true.  You do not care for me because I’m different.”

Man: “Cease your nonsense.  I love you and I love your company and your essence is like air and water to me…  I will see you in 2 days, when I return.”

Woman: “I don’t like you.  You make me sick!  Don’t come back here, you’re not welcome.”

Man: [laughs] “But you ARE cute when you’re being crazy.”

Woman: “No I’m not I’m fat, bloated, and ugly.  If only I were Asian, then you’d ‘love me long time’- I cooka fried rice for you!”

Man: “Regardless of the voices and estrogen are telling you, I only love one woman and it’s already going to be a long time love.  She has brown skin and sable eyes.  She doesn’t cooka fried race, but makes some mean fried chicken.”

“Well things change” she told him,”…my Mr. Right was tall with dark skin and eyes the color of midnight”.  She would later expose that he was quick to smile and slow to anger.  On occasion, his dimples would poke out when he laughed really hard.  As time passed his shoulders broadened and his skin became the color of buttered cream.  His eyes became day skies and oceans… she often got lost or sidetracked in them, unable to recall even simple phrases.  He was the kind of guy who carried and took on the weight  of those he loved but was slow to heal himself.  Now don’t get her wrong, she knew he wasn’t broken but he wasn’t necessarily whole.  Being slightly emotionally crippled only made his protective bent more endearing and courageous.  She admired this man, saw him as a pillar she’d like to lean on in old age.  His laugh made her smile and his smile lit her heart.  That dimple never did appear in his cheek as it had with the other.  No, it lay between his chin, distinguished and stubborn like her kisses had stayed and left a permanent mark.  His face was made up of as many sharp planes as she had soft ones.  Everything about him screamed, “Man!”.  He was prone to brooding when responsibilities and deadlines pulled him from all directions.  When he lets go, there is a stillness and peace about him that calls to her.  She longs always to be the hand that smooths that wrinkled, furrowed brow.  She wants to be his haven.  So, she has learned to love not because he is perfect but because she sees his imperfections, perfectly just as her big brother taught her she would one day.  This is love.

Woman: “and so I am fearful sir.  Man I am afraid that the love of you life just may be Lucy Lui!”

Man: “She does nothing for me, she doesn’t have your heart.”

Woman: “Therein lies the insult and salty rub.”

Man: “I miss your scent.”

Woman: “I miss yours… I am sorry I let the wolf scratch at you earlier.  She snatched my common sense away, ran in my room and locked me out.  When I tried to get it back, that crazy bitch was foaming at the mouth and looked at me with wild eyes.  I reached for it but she snarled and threatened to kill me- true story.”

Man: “I’m lonesome”

Woman: “We just have to be patient and in a few days we will be reunited like Peaches and Herb.”

Man: “I know, but knowing doesn’t make me miss you any less. Shoulda Woulda Coulda.”

Woman: “That seems to be the story of us, lol!  I’m glad you don’t take me seriously when I’m being nuts!  Before we know it, we will share proximity again.”

Man: “Yeah, but right now I feel cold and lonely.  I wanna be in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Comfy shoes, you sitting beside me reading a book while I type reports on my laptop.  Then deciding what to eat for dinner.  That’s how days should go.”

Woman: “I would like to spend all of my days loving you and being loved.”


Man: “You should…”




Kimberley Gladney©

Leave a comment

Filed under Love