Sometimes I Don't Know Where This Dirty Road is Taking Me

Even though I myself feel that everyday off of social media is a little triumph in self respect, still I am in a battle to recruit a few friends and family.  The folks that I speak to most often are not on any form and I long to share with them more frequently and openly.  Sure, I could text them my jazzed up graffiti pics but is it the same?  I'm over here like a closeted gay, not able to express freely the goofy me-isms that they would appreciate.

And for example my sister, who loves to share food photos and thoughts about home town restaurants and our parents famous meals, would be ideal for Instagram.  She sends me amazing photos of her area in Colorado that I'm sure people would find fascinating.  Lots of gal pals I know have their 'thing', like in the past women used to collect ceramic roosters or pigs, everyone had a specialty collection.  Now its more of the photographic nature.  One lady likes bees, another hands, travels, food, close ups of flowers, architecture.  I like graffiti and street art.  Sharing is a positive thing.

But what is this need to pull others into your private moments?  How is it that I'm not as satisfied if I can't share it with a couple hundred strangers?  Could it be that we are answering nature's call to harvest positive loving energy power for the universe?  Does this circulation of pure intention actually produce something useful?  Or is it a collective regurgitation of our empty lives? 

My jury is still out but one thing I know for sure is made just right, the simplest of pasta dishes can become your hearts dream.  Boiling the garlic with the pasta flavors the noodles and makes the cloves soft and mushy when gently tossed with a little pasta water, Parmesan, good Olive Oil, thinly sliced turkey pepperoni and lots of black pepper.