gubster's Diaryland Diary



There is something both frustrating and beautiful about  growing up surrounded by people that knew you before you even knew you. That knew your parents before you know them. Neighbours . . .  that unavoidable part of life everyone has them. They are always there see and hear everything.. . . you avoid them, seek them,talk about the weather with them borrow stuff from them and they are always there just a part of the community. How nice it is to grow up surrounded with the familiar.

Today Ii reflect on community. Living in a new country each year there is never really a sense of community, do I miss anything? What does community mean today anyway in our online world. Isn,t my community the people I interact with daily? Surely this is my community.  So my community includes the old weird tartan guy who shouts abuse at me every morning, roaming stag parties that migrate to my street every weekend always with a  witty remark to make or a rugby tackle to take you down., a street full of shop owners, my friends old and new in this city work colleagues and all my friends and family's round the world i digitally interact with.  I guess this is more and more the truth for people these days but still this fluid community is nothing like a street of neighbours. Online you have the luxury of choosing what to share, choosing who you are and what to tell, in the real solid street it's harder to choose . . . . .fustrating and beautiful.


Lack of community:

11:45 a.m. - 2012-02-17


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