The loss of friends via Social Media

I got on Face Book again today.  It has become a constant in my life since I am not able to get out socializing and going to work.  I am depending on the people on this crazy social media to provide friendship, caring, and understanding when it is not there.  Internally I know I shouldn’t do this; that these people, most of them, are not really there for me, they are there to rant and rave their own lives. 

Really, that is what is all comes down to, a person’s post is their little bit a fame as their picture or icon is next to whatever they post, and they are saying something.  It is like saying, “Look how funny I am” while I steal another person or sites joke and post it as mine; or, “Look how in touch with what is going on I am” while I post what Michael Savage wrote on his blog or Bloomberg published on theirs. 

In another way it is sad, as people, and I include myself in this, can get a sense of being part of doing something to better the world by just ‘liking’ or ‘sharing’ a post.  I wrote a few Congressmen and women about horses being taken off BLM land and the potential for these horses to be slaughtered and used as a commodity meat product to export (or use in some of our fancier restaurants).  I also re-posted posts for missing children, and cats that needed homes. 

I thought I was raising awareness of what was going on with our government, only to realize no one was paying attention.  I have tolerated other’s opinions about same sex marriage or bonding; right, left, tea party, liberal, conservative politics; guns and no guns politics; and Christian, Buddhist, and other religions and faiths.  I have seen so many pictures of pretty flowers; cute puppies (which I might add never had a Bichon Frise!) and cute kittens; pretty houses; islands I will never visit; and places in the world I will never set my passport down in.  Elvis has been bombarding the pages at times, which I just scroll over.  Recipes which are so unhealthy for a person have been constantly shared, as if there is no thought to what all that milk, bacon, beef, and other ingredients are doing to the body.  On the other hand, I have read so many pages of what all kinds of good food can do for a body; looked at charts of Reflexology for the feet and hands; seen comparisons of this food against the other like it; and how to get healthy treatments for things we normally get prescriptions.  I have been patient with the content.

Maybe I was mistaken, but I was under the impression the social media sites were to bring the world closer to us, to allow us to communicate quickly, and with many people at the same time, what was on our minds.  I also thought with this, since the people I have been friending seem to think we are going about governing our nation all wrong, that these same people would see the benefits of bridging the distance between our localities.  For instance: When I bought some Lupus wrist bands, I didn’t realize I was getting 10 for the price I paid.  Thus I wrote on Face Book I had extra Lupus wrist bands, and if anyone wanted one, they could write me in private and let me know their address to mail it to.  I didn’t ask for any money, I mean it was only a rubber wrist band, and I was never going to have 10 people to give them to while I am not able to go anywhere. One person wrote me in private, and I gladly mailed her a wrist band.  She was thrilled and thanked me.  That was it.  I have worn mine to death, so I guess I have 8 more to wear out.  I asked a friend who specifically stated in their post some thing I liked when they had them on a few years ago were on sale at a local (for them) store, to get me a some.  I told them to tell me how much it would cost, as they were advertised at a Dollar Store.  I received a rather terse note back saying that they should be around me since they are where they are.  I was hurt, as apparently this person hasn’t paid the least bit of attention to any of the reason I have been on Face Book so often. 

I have often told of how I am waiting for a Disability decision so I can determine if I am going to be able to have knee surgery or not.  I need it really bad as everything I do is extremely painful, and I am mostly stuck in my bedroom because of my knee problems and because I have blood clots in my legs.  I have been to four doctors now who all agree I need the knee surgery, and quite possibly back surgery as well due to my legs being off-set.  I had a total knee relocation in ’95 which has caused a ¾ inch difference between my legs, thus making me walk a little crooked affecting my hips and my back.  So, it is not like I am sitting on my ass not doing anything, just waiting for a free ride or something from the government.  I have a myriad of doctors seeing the same problem, and all recommending the same resolve.  Until then, I can do nothing: I cannot look for a job; I cannot work under the table since I am not lying about my conditions; and I cannot go to work.  Now I have had to write about all my problems again, AND I AM DAMN TIRED OF EXPLAINING MYSELF ALL THE TIME.  WHY CAN'T PEOPLE JUST BE NICE AND GIVE A LITTLE WITHOUT AN EXPLANATION OF WHY I NEED OR WHY I AM ASKSING?

I am not happy about this situation, but there it is.  So, back to Face Book and the friends I thought I had there.  Well, let’s just say they aren’t there unless you want to discuss online what they believe in.  If you want to discuss something above and beyond their post, they ignore your comments, or then there are the ‘haters’ who write shit about everything.  I have de-friended now quite a few people.  Either they didn’t ever write back to anything I said; they were rude in comments; their beliefs went over the edge to being downright pushy and crude to others who were not of their specific belief; or they ranted about stuff which they had no facts for, just opinions.  I hate to do that, because it feels so final.  Some of these people I have never met, we just became friends while playing games on FB a few years ago, and so it was not really any loss to them or me, unless they were counting how many friends they had.  Some of these people I have known personally, and de-friending them was like turning my back on them. 

For a long time now I have been reading a friend’s posts which have gotten more and more radical as time went along.  When I first knew this person, they did not like a particular radio show and another of my friends did and listened to it a lot.  It was always a sticking point between the two of them when they would talk, as one didn’t believe the rants of one talk show host whereas the other didn’t believe the other’s talk show host’s point of view.  Then all of the sudden, I mean within this year, this person is quoting the talk show host they never would agree with before.  I have to admit, I didn’t even like the talk show guy as his rants were often to religious and there were even times he would take a whole show and read scripture, not even talk about current events.  I just thought that was a little much.  But, now this guy who used to play basketball with lesbians, and report it was really fun, now hates gays.  This guy is all over being a Christian but I know for a fact he looks at porn on the computer quite a bit.  Lastly, when he has a post for something that is selling there and I really wanted while I was in that State and I ask him how much he wants to get me some, the private email came back rather rude.  So, much for the friendship I thought we had.  I guess it was purely one sided: if I wanted to believe and re-post what he did, then I was okay, but if not, well…

So, at the end of this rant, I have de-friended him.  I am tired of the excessive rants from the talk show host I can’t stand, tired of the extreme views on Christianity, the down right meanness in some of his posts about particular people (which by the way is so not Christian behavior), and now he can’t even show a little friendship by helping me out when I even request to know how much it will cost.  I was not asking him to foot the bill, or go out of his way, as I know he will be going to this store anyway.  It was just inconsiderate and selfish.  For him to rant about how our Nation is in such trouble and the government is to blame, then he can’t reach out just a bit for a friend who he has known personally, this is not the way to cure the ill of our Nation.  Some of the problem is government, no doubt, but we still have to do our part and try to be a community of humans who care about each other.  That selfish attitude gets us no where.  So, while he rants about people being on welfare, illegal’s taking all our money, he sits in his ivory tower with his talk show host, and looks down on all of us like we do not belong to his race.  I guess I don’t belong to his race, as my race would try and help a person, before blaming society and government for all the ills of the Nation. 

A friend shared a poignant video with me on FB the other day, and it was just this point.  One person helps another, then that person who was just helped helps someone else, and it goes on.  I think there was a movie about it even called Pay it Forward.  Now he is going to get pissed when some guy cuts him off in traffic, or a person is rude to him in a store, and it will be karma, dude, and simple karma.  What goes out must come back.  This has been proven so many times, I can’t believe some people still have their head up their butt.  We are all connected, whether I am in California and he is in New York, we are connected.  What I do to one will come back to me.  Physics. 

I have made my choice that while I am stuck basically in this 9 x 10 room I will not tolerate people throwing bad karma my way.  I guess that is why I am down so many friends.  But you know what; I was never counting in the first place.  I have one really good friend, who I know will be with me no matter what each of us believes, so I am good.

No Loss

I called you, because you made

me promise to call you. 

Your phone just

rang and rang.

I was finally offered your voice

            mail.  Left a message asking

            you to call me

when you got a chance.

I(i) called you every other day;

            then twice a month;

            and then only once a month

for the last few months.

i gave up trying to reach you by phone;

            felt your promise to get

            together later was a farce; and

felt the fool for trying to contact you.

i saw you in the coffee house

            with some other people.

           

You made a big deal about seeing me;

            came over to me and talked in fluent

            animation; and you asked why

I hadn’t called you.

You made a big deal, loud, making sure

            i was dialing the right number.

            It was, there was no mistake on my part.

You didn’t ask anything about me or my number.

You made a big show, in your

language of fluent animation,

of us getting together in the future.

You told me to call you, with the whole

            thumb and finger hand signal.

i(I) deleted your number.

I didn’t call you.

I never saw you again.

            No loss.

Dating after surgery...

Okay, so in the past year I have read about 250 books, probably more.  I bought a kindle it has been my best source of entertainment for 2012.  I have read mostly free books, as my financial situation hasn’t done nothing but go further into a deep dive.  I am still waiting on a disability decision, now in the appeal stage.  In 2013 I should have an answer from Social Security, and I will be in the depths of despair if it is a negative answer. 

About reading all these books, none of them have been romances or any thing resembling ’50 Shades’ of anything.  I am not into those types of books; in fact, when I learned The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was dealing with some S & M topics, I even shied away from that whole series of books.  In the books I have read though, there is often an element of romance, but the plot deals with something I am more into.  After finishing the last book Circle of Bones: A Caribbean Thriller by Christine Kling, I realized I am sincerely lacking in so many areas. 

Not to give away the book, as it was truly a good read, the lead character is a woman, ex Marine, who is fit and looks good in clothes.  The problem she has and which stops here from trying to form any romantic relationships is that she has a huge scar from her shoulder down her back from a bombing she was close to.  She looks in the mirror at her image and is proud of how fit she has kept herself after she left the Marines, but then she sees the scar and feels no man will ever want her because of this scar.  She finds out differently in the latter part of the book.

Now, in a totally different medium, The Sun Magazine, [December 2012] there is a short story in the “Readers Write” area in which a woman who has a scar from a mastectomy is attempting to have sex with a stranger.  She is ashamed of the scar, doesn’t take her top off, and yet is also not getting any pleasure from what is happening.  Finally she tells the man she is with about the scar; he kisses the area, and then asks if she just want to lie together.  So, here she is a woman who has been through a lot in real life, not fiction this time, and yet finds a stranger who is compassionate enough to just be with her and not be rude or judgmental about her body.

I am thinking there are good men out there, and once I get back on my feet and feel whole again, I will be out there maybe dating again.  All of this gives me a ray of hope, small, but still some thing to hold onto.

Yahoo! has the balls to run a story the other day about how credit scores are changing the face of dating and future relationships.  From what the article said, it appears many young people are questioning dates about their current credit score, or using specific dating sites which cater to this kind of thinking.  I have to sit back and re-assess my ray of hope.  When I will be back in the dating world again, this is who I will present as:

            Single, white woman, no house, no kids, no vehicle, no apartment, possibly on disability, student loan heavy, have a Master’s degree, working on a Doctorate degree, no job, no credit cards, well read, not fit physically…

There, you see, the list goes on and on.  What is someone going to do with all the information?  Dial it all down to a credit score?  Not fair.  The bills I have which are outstanding are medical and educational.  Was I supposed to borrow the money from my parents for my schooling, like Romney so portrayed we are all supposed to be able to do?  Well, a single Mother on Social Security only is not really cash heavy, so asking her for school money was not an option.  Was I supposed to just sit here while I wait for Disability to decide on my case and do nothing, watch all the reality shows?  Well, we don’t have cable or any TV, so that option is out.  I guess to satisfy all the people who think the credit score is the bottom line of a person’s worth, I would have to just sit on my hands these last three years, and do nothing with my mind.  Maybe we would have more to talk about if I had kept up with the Kardashians, or watched Honey Boo Boo. 

My final thought here is this: I hope to get the disability next year (2013), get my needed surgeries, and get literally back on my feet again.  When I date though, I will not have a perfect fit body, I will have scars from the surgery, and I will have debt that will need to be addressed when I start working and finally finish my Doctorate.  What will my chances be of finding one of these wonderful men who will understand all of this?  Slim to none, I am thinking.       

Possible Death Threats and Real Stalkers

            I just found out last night I had death threats when I was around 8 or 9 years of age.  This was something I don’t know if I was ever told at that age, memory is slack in that department; I didn’t keep good files then.  But, seriously, my sister’s Dad told my Mom on more than one occasion he was going to have me abducted and killed so he could get my sister.  Also, check this; he also had someone following me who knew my route to and from school.  This puts a new spin on my childhood, which I could have gone forever without this knowledge.

            Ok, now onto other death threats, scary men, and stalkers.  Oh!  I have had my share.  There is no particular order to any of these, just random men in my life.

            There was my second husband who watched so many City Confidential and other crimes shows all day while I was at work, which really freaked me out.  When he started hovering over my bed while I was waking up, that was weirder still.  I decided enough was enough; the guy had many other issues, so we called it quits. 

            Now this doesn’t mean this particular guy stopped bothering me.  No!  He sent emails to my work, and to my boss, telling him I was engaged in employee misconduct.  Then he would leave gifts, sometimes opened with things taken out of them, on my vehicle.  He would send flowers to my work, which I quickly turned over to the next person in line for my flowers I never wanted. So, he went from husband and potential wife killer, to stalker.  I guess he took a step down, as far as I know, so that is a good a thing, right?  But, even while we were married and living together he followed me when I would tell him I would be at my friends house or eating dinner with them, and they were all women friends.  So, weirdness prevails. 

            I had another stalker when I used to work retail.  We had gone out a couple of times, but we never hit it off.  He was just weird.  He would stop the car and just get out and pee on some trash cans on my side of the car.  One time he picked me up, and I was engulfed in a horrid smell once I got in his car.  He told me he had just thrown up in the car, which was proof positive all over his steering wheel.  Once I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore, he called me a few really naughty names, and tied to smear my name at church.  Didn’t get very far at church, as everyone thought he was way weirder than I could ever be.  I would often look out the front of the store, which was all large pieces of glass, and he would be out in the court yard, just leaning on a tree watching me.  A few times I didn’t even know he was there, and one of the other women would say something to me.  I finally got security on him, and after about two times of that, he was gone. 

            Then there was my friend’s husband who would get up out of bed and just watch me in the dark while I watched TV.  I was waiting for them to leave so I could watch their little one while they were doing the Sunday newspaper route.  It was weird to wake to him just sitting there watching me, not saying a word, and never making any acknowledgement of him staring at me.  So, what do I call that: couch stalking?

            In high school years there was the guy who actually attacked me on the way to my boyfriend’s house.  Out of no where (isn’t that always where they come from?) he jumps me and wants me to kiss him.  I am thinking, ‘Dude. If all you want is a kiss, I am sure some barfly chick over in the bar there can give that to you’.  But he was quite insistent, until my knee met his nether regions and my hand hit his nose.  Yeah! He was kind of wishing he had tried that little trick on someone else. 

            A guy I dated only once went to dinner with him, but he wanted more.  Hell, a hooker costs you more than an Olive Garden dinner with no alcohol!  He walked me to my door, and then persisted in trying to get more out of the date.  He was real shrunken raisin looking, and way littler than me. I tried to be polite, but he just wouldn’t take a polite a no for an answer.  So, finally it was, impolite, I am going to get serious in a minute if you do not remove yourself.  He didn’t like that either. Then I had to get rough.  On him I only had to grab his throat with my thumb in the larynx to get his attention.  I was almost holding him off the floor.  He was pissed after that, holding his throat as he stormed out the door, but he left.  Then he almost backed his car into a trash truck, which made him even madder when he noticed I was watching him from my porch. 

            I have had my share of one dates who insist there should be more.  They send flowers, cards, and other gifts for me or my animals, even when I give them nothing to hang a tiny thread on.  I have had the guy who gets my phone number by whatever means and will not leave me alone.  Listen, I am not polite after the first or second, no.  I can hold my own and I say just what I mean, no double talk, or confusing language, body or otherwise going on with this chick.  One guy even had the audacity to charge me a fortune for him and his crew of idiots to move my apartment to storage, which they trashed a bunch of stuff, then call me for almost three months afterwards.  This guy had even told me he had a wife and children back in Mexico.  What an arse!

            The other guy who comes to mind right now is a guy who I disliked after the first date.  His whole aura was off, and I am not being mystical here.  He was just wrong.  He then got a sleeping machine (which I think every household in America has at least one now), and he seemed to be a little nicer.  But it still wasn’t working for me.  He left the state. Whew! Oh, not so fast there chicky.  He found me on Face Book (gotta’ love ‘um), and started trying to contact me.  I ignored him for some time, feeling the freedom to do so.  Then one day, when I was bored, he happened to see me online on Face Book, they had just started the chat thing, so I hadn’t gone in and turned on the privacy notifications yet.  So, I chatted with him.  Finally, he was coming town, whoopee.  I met him, hoping he would at least be nice, and I was really going through a lot of stress and could use a friend.  Well, he managed to buy me one drink, and dinner, and not hear one word I said.  He talked of himself, but was never looking at me.  No more dates with him ever.  He got mad at me once because he wanted me to come to stay with him over a weekend, and when my dog got sick and I couldn’t come, he blew his top.  My dog, which is a $1,200 Bichon Frise, got sick, had to get to the vet for emergency treatment, then needed treatment during the day at home, and I am supposed to just fly out of state for a casual weekend.  What a jerk.  To top that off, he had not stopped asking me to meet him when he came here, or asking me to come to his state after that.  I think that is desperate.        

            On the other side of the coin, I have had guys come out of no where, and say they have been wanting to talk to me for years, sometimes, and never had the courage.  Well, I guess if they knew what I did to the guys who were jerks, I could see the trepidation, but most guys don’t know anything about any of that part of lovable me. 

            So, there it is, my share time for today. 

nough said~

           

           

Stiff upper Lip

I am desperately trying to keep a stiff upper lip, but it is getting very hard.  I recognize others have and are going through much harder issues than I am right now, but this is my struggle right here, right now. 

I went to the other doctor the Social Security Disability judge sent me to on the 22nd of March.  I have not heard anything from Binder & Binder or Disability. 

Classes start up again Friday, at least the course room opens then, and classes officially start on Monday.  The school is really pressuring me to take the 2nd Colloquium, and in my last quarter I understand why.  I had a class which was particularly difficult for me, and when I spoke with the professor, she said if I had attended the 2nd Colloquium prior to the class, it would have been easier for me.  Now in looking at my Degree Completion Plan I realize I should have taken the 2nd Colloquium a long time ago, and am now getting ready to be due for the third.  I am not sure how to pay for it is the biggest problem.  I have spoken with disability, and they offered if I could provide documentation as to why I couldn't travel to a Colloquium, besides cost issues, they would do a special 1 on 1 with a professor colloquium.  I would still be liable for the colloquium cost though, which is $1,400+.  That is without travel, hotel, and any other costs. 

I know the judge would be so happy to read this, but I am getting really tired of waiting.  I know I cannot go back to being a paralegal, not just because the jobs are so scarce, but because I cannot do the office work required.  I cannot go back to retail as my knees will in no way support me in that venture.  So, the only other thing I could possibly do is finish this degree, while looking for online teaching jobs.  I haven't even been looking as most of the ones I did see about a year ago were requiring a Ph.D. to even be considered, much less experience.  I might have a better chance in a brick & mortar school, but all the walking and standing required for this is totally unreal for me. 

So, am I doomed to live with my mother for the rest of my unnatural life?  Surely, say no!  She is having to defend my keeping of things to her Bishop.  I wish he would just stay out of what is not his business.  Mom has told him before I am not giving up my stuff, that I don't hoard things, and that I will need the items again when I move out.  But, again last night, she had to defend me against her bishop.  I think, from the way she related it, she may have done so in a manner in which he won't ask her again.  I did add she might have told him she has not been solely responsible for the cost of the storage for a long time: she didn't have to start paying full price until just this last 3 months.  This is due to my not having any unemployment benefits or school money.  I am sure he thinks I am a leach and having Mom pay for everything for me.  I wonder if she adds she uses my Food Stamp card as well, which is a measly $200 a month. 

Anyway, I feel alone, and now I am officially depressed.  I don't want to get out of bed, see no purpose in changing out of my night clothes, and am generally just not motivated or goal driven for anything.  I have one friend here, but she has many commitments, thus she is not available for long conversations.  I have my adopted brother in Texas, but he also is very committed to many things, thus does not have a great deal of time for me.  I have a friend in India, but he just changed jobs to a French company and doesn't have time to write me like he used to.  My pop in Wisconsin has extreme health problems which keeps him from the computer a great deal.  My real sister in California and I just don't get along, my education keeps looming in front of her face even when I don't say anything about it, and she gets mad at me.  And my Mom, we are so different, we just don't see anything the same.  What gets me the most about her is she pounds on me all this stuff about thinking positive and making positive plans, and then she will turn around and give me some crap which is totally negative.  I will make this obvious to her and she gets mad at me. 

So, I am done with sharing my mind today.  This is why I don't write often anymore, I don't like to write depressing stuff. 

Thoughts from your mind (as I hear them)

I came in the door, in from the noise and brightness of the city,

You were sitting in your Lazy-boy, all quiet and serene, reading.

There was no music, no sound, not even the animals snoring. 

I envied this scene.

I went and took off my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes,

you told me of a nice couple who you thought might be moving out.

This was sad news indeed, as we both like them, very nice people, and

always kind and have a smile for anyone they pass.

We weren’t sure what was going on with them,

but we have seen so many people, good and bad, leave our small

community,

we wouldn’t be surprised if they were, but saddened nonetheless.

Our conversation brought me into the kitchen, and you back to your chair.

After I prepared something for my measly lunch,

I came back into the living room, and you were

reading again, a tuned to your book.

I decided to get some things done I had planning on:

I went through my CDs, found the few I was looking for.

I stuck them on top of my school book, which was on the arm of my Lazy-boy

(the arm opens up, thus there was a flat area).

I thought this was a good place to put them while I sat down.

I sat down and all the CDs crashed to the floor.

Although you didn’t say a thing, I just know your common sense and ability to look into the future would have forbid you from doing this stupid and clumsy trick. But you didn’t say a thing; I never even caught you looking my way.

I picked up the CDs and started getting more intemperate with things around me.

Wrote my message hard on the paper;

almost ripped the paper pieces apart, instead of cutting them nicely;

and slammed my book.

I got all the CDs done, you still sat serenely, no idea what was on your mind.

I then started going through a book and trying to mark places and the pages wouldn’t turn. I mad again. 

My back hurt, my back hurt, and I am sure this is the reason for all my temper tantrums.

I have asked my doctor what is causing all my pain, what can be done to help my pain, and have asked you what you think it could be based upon your diseases.

I know you are sitting there frustrated, tired, and usually hurting in one or more parts of your body.  You say nothing to me of all my grunts and groans, of my constant clearing of my through (which even disturbs the neighbor), and of all my naps.  And you say nothing today of all my noise, temper, and short-sightedness of today. 

You sit there serenely.     

I still haven't found what I was looking for...

I listened to Robbie Robertson today for quite a while.  The music was from his albums Music for the Native Americans and Contact from the Underworld of Red Boy. Both of these albums deal specifically with Mr. Robertson's Native American roots, as his mother was Mohawk. 

I remembered when I used to listen to this must quite a few years ago, I was searching hard in the lyrics for something which would touch my soul.  I wanted the music to tell me one of the things my Dad had told my Mom was actually true: He said he was part Indian when they were together. 
I went to many pow wows hoping to find a connection to this culture, to these people. 
I never did. 
I still enjoy all of the music.  I even have albums, yes real vinyl, of music of pow wows and dances.
There is no connection for me.

My dad also told my mom he was part alien.  Well, I don't feel like I have any genetic material to share with the Alien, nor do I feel like I am blue and real tall.  I really don't get into the sightings and all the hub bub of alleged alien contact.  I seriously doubt the Area 51 claims and the Roswell stuff.  I think there is something not right about these places, but having real aliens, maybe like those from the movie, The 4th of July,with Will Smith, I don't think so.
So, I don't belong here either.

I have tried to embrace the French side of my heritage, but Mom never found out enough information from my Dad for me to be able to trace it.  In fact, my last name (maiden) is not even the legal last name of my father, and my Mom is not entirely sure my Dad ever gave her his real last name.
I want to live in France, and have completed quite a bit of research on life in France and what area I would like to live. 
I have attempted to study French, so I will not sound entirely stupid, and at least appear to be trying to fit in with the locals.
But, alas, this is not happening either. 
I get tongue tied when I try to learn the language, and I didn't have this problem when I took French Civilization in undergrad.  I just can't seem to remember the words for anything now. 
So, I am feeling like I do not belong to this culture either.

Were I to embrace the American culture, in my eyes, this would be a sad statement.  Yes, there are people who give and who are wonderful here, but in the eyes of many of the rest of the world, Americans are seen as pushy, arrogant, and rude.
I have found for a great majority of people, this is true: Americans are pushy and rude, and they want things now.  I have learned many other cultures move much slower than Americans and are not in a rush to eat, shop, or do business.  There is a certain serenity to many cultures who just take time to talk over lunch or dinner; and who recognize each other as neighbors. 
I have a friend in India who works hard, has a wife with a life threatening disease, and has older frail parents.  It is laudable the way he takes time to sit by his wife's bed while she is sick, just in case she needs something; and the way he will take a 16 hour train trip with his mother for a religious celebration.  This is true caring.
I have another friend who is from Lebanon.  He has told me many times how dinners are long and relaxing.  Everybody eats, talks, and enjoys each other's company.  There are no cellular phones which constantly pull one away from the table; there are only the people at the table who are important.  He has never been able to understand the way American restaurants work, trying to get the table clean and ready for the next customer as soon as possible.

I even tried moving to the South, to see if I belonged there. 
I found I loved the South, wanted to stay.  I went back after I had been away for a couple of years, and found it just wasn't the same.  The South didn't want me anymore. 
I didn't belong there either.

I went to Alaska to stay with a friend there to see if I could belong to this different sub-culture of America.  I got sicker with my illnesses, and had to visit the ER twice while there.
I almost got hit by a huge rock some Native Alaskan woman was throwing at me.  She was drunk and was trying to hit another Native, but I happened to be within her throwing range, even though it was a wide throwing range due to her inebriated condition.  The rock was bigger than my fist, and if it would have it me, I judged, it would have hit me in the head.
I definitely didn't belong here. 

I am stuck in Las Vegas.  I know I don't belong here.  Nothing feels right.  My skin itches to leave this place ASAP.  Every time I leave though, I end up right back here.  Life is getting worse here for me, and my illnesses are getting worse as well. 
Where do I belong? To whom do I belong?  My Dad is dead, and my Mom's memory isn't very good anymore, so who do I ask about my roots?
I want some sort of peace and feeling of being grounded.  After all my travels back and forth across this country, and into two other countries, I still haven't found what I was looking for...

By the way: Thanks to U2 and Bono for the words and thoughts which helped spur this desire and search in me.