I just went out to see if I could find Mars; it's at its closest proximity to earth for about 1000 years right now, and it's supposed to be highly visible: a great, glowing, orange disc in the southern sky. I couldn't find it. There was too much ambient light from the city nearby.
I hate that.
I've really come to the understanding this summer that I'm more of a loner at heart than I ever suspected. I just don't feel the need to be around people all of the time. It's not because I don't function well with people: that's not it at all. It's just that being with people drains me, and being by myself, writing, reading, playing an instrument, praying, playing with the kids, is strengthening. I'm so much happier, in the long run, when I can stay at home and do my own thing, rather than go out with a large group.
On the other hand, I dearly love a face-to-face talk with an intimate friend, especially when we can talk about God, literature, movies, music and life. I say face-to-face, because the internet has been a poor substitute for real human interaction. Those emoticons can't capture the way a friend scrunches up his nose when he smiles, or the dimples in a ten-year old's grin. All the digital gadgets can't recreate the beauty of seeing a bit of a person's soul in his or her eyes when they look into yours. The digital world was supposed to be a facilitator, but instead it has become for many a facade.
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