I eat when I’m hungry and I sleep when I’m tired.

West Coast sunset.

West Coast sunset.

Goodnight, LA.

Goodnight, LA.

Good morning!

Good morning!

What used to disappear harmlessly into an ether of embarrassed silence now gets published worldwide with an immediacy that would make Johannes Gutenberg’s head spin so fast Linda Blair would turn green with envy.
Bruce Morrow

Good Afternoon

In high school, the school nurse told me that I was an old soul. “You’re hardwired for a different time,” she used to say. As an eighteen year old millennial looking forward to college, I took it as an insult. As a twenty-three year old sitting in my office, wearing a tweed jacket and listening to the Rat Pack, I’m still being told the same thing.

Only now, I believe it.

In such a fast-paced world where an internet page loads faster than my mind can remember why I clicked the link in the first place, or where some one would rather “shoot him an IM” instead of walking into the next office, or where my younger brothers consider Facebook chat worthwhile human interaction, I often wonder why we can’t slow down and enjoy the view.

I guess that’s part of the reason why I started this— I’m frustrated as to where I may be heading and to where we as a people may be heading. I took a walk through a shopping center, today, and noticed that every time a person got within fifteen feet of each other, they would instantly find something interesting on the pavement, or in the sky, or on their cellphones. Why? Are we so afraid of real person-to-person interaction?

Why can’t we just stop and wish some one good morning, good afternoon, and good night?