The Step Mom Chronicles; Finding Your Place.

I remember when our oldest had to be rushed to the Emergency room, bleeding immensely from his upper lip.
Jarrod hurried to his side as soon as he heard the cry and acted not only quickly, but logically.
As a father he didn't think twice about letting his hands form a cup for his son's blood to pour into over the cold wooden floor. 

I stood there, wide eyed and puzzled; feeling like a puzzle piece myself.
I was one of those frustrating puzzle pieces with strange, jagged edges that is so ambiguous you can't quite fit it anywhere you try to force it. 

Where did I fit into this equation?
Should I hold him?
Should I close my eyes and try to cup the blood myself? 

Before I could even react, Jarrod had swooped him up and made it half way down the highway. 
What did I do?
I cleaned up the blood.
I wiped the floor.
I wiped the walls of the bathroom.
I cleaned up the wreckage.

I threw the dishcloth into the washer, put the other boys to bed and then stood in front of my bathroom mirror. 
I was a mess. 
I looked like a frantic idiot, but had his blood all over my knees and on my shirt. 

As a step-mother (or bonus mom, as we like to call it-I can't get over the whole Cinderella gig) you're going to get blood on you. 

You're like a new culinary student, trying hard to please your professor, your peers and even yourself with your incredible abilities. 
You are trying to be a pro, but your hands are covered in band-aids from constantly chopping yourself up. 

The good news?
Everyone else's fingers are covered in bandages too, even the professor's.

I know we often feel like that jagged puzzle piece I mentioned earlier. 
We are constantly trying to shove our way into an empty place, only to get booted out again because we don't quite fit. 

You have a corner jutting out here, a curve where there should be a corner there and oh, are you even from this puzzle box? 
I think you got mixed in by mistake. 

That. 

It's easier to feel that way than to keep trying to fit into places you're told you don't belong into-either by someone else or yourself.

It's easy to listen to your voice, the world's voice, a biological parent's voice over the Truth's voice. 
Why are we listening to anyone but the One who created the concept of family in the first place? 
Um, hello.
What does He have to say?

John 10:10"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."

We often apply scriptures like this to HUGE spiritual battles and we may not feel like our roles as step parents are included in that, but what bigger battle ground is there than the one in our own home, our own heart?

The enemy comes to steal your confidence as a step parent, kill unity in any way he can and to destroy the peace in your home, your family and within yourself. 

The good news? 

You have the biggest, baddest dude drawing the sword out for you. 

Psalm 46:1-3

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.  Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,  though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. "Selah"

First of all, boom.

Right? 

Even if the earth is blown to smithereens, God is saying, "Yo, I got you. Just Chill and watch me handle this." 

Okay, maybe that's from the New International Britney Version, but you get the idea. 

And the word Selah? Though an exact interpretation has never been pinpointed, it is often said to be a break in a song, a word telling you to "stop and listen" or "stop and think on that."

So do it. 

Stop.

Listen.

Meditate on that. 

The last bit of good news? 

You are right, you don't fit into that puzzle.

How is that good news? 

That old puzzle was broken. Half the pieces are missing from the box.

That puzzle was split down the middle and was incomplete.

You are a piece from a brand new box.

That box holds the puzzle only you can complete. 

Get to it. 

Put On Your Dancing Shoes

I have known what was on my heart to write to kick off this new year, I just hadn't discovered how to convey it in the proper way. 

We all do New Year's resolutions, or goals. Maybe you just focus on one single word for that year. 

This year, I haven't found what I want to add to my life, but I have found things I want to take away. 

Last night I attended a beautiful wedding reception filled with fancy dresses, high heels and bow ties around young mens' necks. 
Me and my husband made our way onto the dance floor as a slow song began to make its way into the air.

I rested my head onto his shoulder and my gaze lined up with a young girl in the middle of the floor. 
She was wearing a white tulle dress with fake flowers embedded in her flowing blonde hair. 

Nobody was around her. 
She didn't appear to belong to anyone but herself. 
Her shoes were nowhere to be found as her feet made love with the wooden panels below her. 
She was spinning,waving her arms over her head and cared less about the fact that I was staring at her dancing there all alone.

I smiled and observed her practice her grooviest moves for an audience of one. 

My face dropped as amusement soon turned to sadness when I realized she would one day not be so free to move on the dance floor, barefooted and ignorant to the stares of others.

She would grow up and begin to care. 
She would grow up and begin to know her hair was frizzy, her feet exposed and she would soon grow older and begin to scrutinize how her body looked in that beautiful tulle dress. 

So I watched her dance while she could.
I was a little jealous honestly; I had already lost that part of me long ago.
The part that will hit the dance floor alone, having a party of one, hair down and unaware of anything physical about myself but the feeling of my feet moving to the beat.

When had I lost that? 

When had I traded my dancing shoes for shame and embarrassment?
I had somehow misplaced the dancing shoes I had slipped off to cut loose and when leaving the floor put on body shaming instead.

Last night I decided I wanted to leave that behind in 2015.
I want to leave shaming myself and others for what they bring to the dance floor behind. 

No more changing ten times, leaving my closet looking like the mall threw up. 
No more pulling and tugging at shirts.
No more missing out on the best dancing songs life has to offer because I'm afraid to take my frizzy hair down and cut my body loose.

Every body is made for dancing.
Size 00 to 20, a girl should dance when her song comes on.

I have heard body shaming on every side, from telling a thin girl she needs to go "eat some meat" to telling a plus size woman she should be on a treadmill.

I can't make the world stop the shaming, but I can start a movement by beginning with myself first. 
A beautiful thing happens when a woman shows others she's not afraid or ashamed of her body.

Honey, find your dancing shoes. I know they're buried in that closet somewhere.
Cut loose. 

You weren't designed to be a wallflower at your own party.

It's a new year and it's time to get the hell off that wall and not care who's looking.
Bust out your best moves, bust through the barriers you built for yourself because your main jam just came on.

Leave body shaming behind.

Put on your dancing shoes. 

The Ugly Truth About Porn.

I remember the first time I found it. 
It was hidden in someone's house I was at.
I was seven. 
He had a wife. 
He had a daughter not much older than me. 
Yet there it was, staring at me in all it's grotesque glory. 
The woman on the front was exposed and seemingly happy about it.
My face turned hot and I rushed to stuff the magazines back where I had found them.
Maybe he wouldn't notice they were most likely out of their normal order.
I didn't fully understand at the time what exactly this meant, but I knew I hurt for his wife.
I was a child, but I knew she would be pained by what I had just found. 
So I shut up and shut down.
I left the magazine in their secret place and never went back there.

Then, years later I was back at that house again, staring at those magazines.
Or so it felt. 

I was a woman myself now. I had forgotten all about the man's dirty magazines.
Until now.
My hands were shaking and my heart was trying to find a way out of my chest.

The only escape route was through my mouth with muffled sobs.
I was supposed to be in the shower.
The water was on, so I pressed my face into the bathroom towel.
I screamed.
No words in particular, just a mixture of anguish and confusion.

I was that little girl again, shoving those magazines back into the wall where I had found them; yet this time, I was the woman totally oblivious to her own shortcomings.

Shortcomings? 
I'm sure you're lost.
What does a man looking at porn have anything to do with my own worth?

If you're a man, you may be thinking that by looking at porn, that doesn't mean you love your wife any less or find her any less beautiful.

You may be thinking that it's only natural, that the only one affected by these images is yourself.

You are wrong. 

The ugly truth about porn is that it affects every woman you touch, especially your spouse.
You are mixing the poison, but she is drinking it. 

I could go into the biblical aspects of porn and beat you over the head with scriptures, but we have all heard them before.
We have heard the sermons, seen the moves and witnessed the marriages torn apart.
I have no need to go there.
You already know those things.
I'm here to let you in on the things you don't.

Not only are you destroying the hearts of the women in your life by subjecting yourself and them to these idolized images, you are paying the industry that exploits someone's wife, someone's sister, someone's mother and even someone's daughter on the front cover every month. 

Men, but enough on you. This blog isn't necessarily intended for men suffering with an addiction to porn.

This is mainly directed towards the women currently being inflicted with the pain porn brings or the women who have been in the past. 

That's the ugly truth about porn: It is a poison that doesn't just leave your system in a short time. It remains stagnant in your mind for as long as you let it, making itself comfortable in the bed of your heart.

It's cozy there.
Those images you stumbled upon are engraved in your mind and on your broken heart.

They visit you when you're getting into the shower or trying on your once favorite dress.
They visit you when he tells you how beautiful you look or in your bedroom. 

They meet you everywhere.

I wish I had a secret 5 step solution to ridding yourself of the pain that porn has caused you.
But I don't. 

Whether you were a seven year old girl rummaging through the things of a man you looked up to or a grown woman searching your spouse's search history, porn is poison and it can kill a special part of you if you let it. 

That part of you is the part that let's you love yourself again.
That part of you is the part that likes the way you look in your favorite dress again. 
That part of you is the part that doesn't argue when a man calls you beautiful.
That part of you is the part that doesn't hide in your bedroom closet when intimacy comes calling. 

A little uncomfortable?
Maybe. 

But the ugly truth about porn is that it is uncomfortable.
Poison isn't going to feel good, no matter how much you coat it in rationalizations.

I wish I could tell you that one day I woke up deciding I wasn't going to let the ramifications of someone else's choice destroy me anymore, but I can't. 

Every day you will have to remind yourself that the images you saw are not beautiful. 
Not only are they an unrealistic expectation for all women, but they are bought with an awful and ugly price. 

Porn is not beautiful.
It is a drug that destroys so many men, good men, and their families. 

How you reconcile is your own journey. 
Maybe you are picking up the broken pieces of the trust you had in a marriage.
Maybe you are starting over and struggling with falling back into the mindset that every man is going to break your heart in the same way.

I'm no self help book, but from experience, there's one thing you can not do if you want to heal: hide. 

Hiding from your spouse, whether they were the one who hurt you or simply the one getting the brunt of your hurt is the worse thing you can do.

You are only continuing the process of  poisoning those around you by sleeping in your infection. 

When you have a deep cut or burn, medics don't tell you to hide it, ignore it and just shut up about it.
They treat it with immediate care, washing the wounded area with haste and with no concern if your wound is exposed so that they might get in and fix the issue at hand before extreme infection ensues. 

Honey, expose your wounds.
Expose the things that hurt so that they might heal.
I was embarrassed for too long, so I hid my wounds and prolonged the process of ridding my blood of porn's poison.
The dark things can only be lifted from you when you let a little light in.

I'm not going to tell you some frilly, feel-good version of the truth.
Porn freaking sucks and so does the healing process-for everyone. 

You can read as many self help articles as you want, receive friendly advice from everyone on your contacts list and pray until you are blue in the face, but you have to get up and do something to start the healing process.
Not your husband, not the man who hurt you, not the man with the dirty magazines hidden in his wall.
They can't help you.
Only you can. 

Am I saying prayer and advice from Godly, experienced women won't help?
Of course not.
But sitting on your butt and expecting someone else to come in and save you is crap and only makes you a victim.
Harsh, but the truth is usually a little prickly to the touch. 

If you want to heal your marriage or your heart from a previous relationship, you have to decide to do it.
Change out of those victim panties and let's do this. 

Some practical, cut the crap insight?
Let him call you beautiful without rolling your eyes.
Stop throwing the covers over your head or jumping out your bedroom window every time he walks in.

The poison might have been mixed for you, but you don't have to keep drinking it.

If your husband is the man who hurt you, don't hide from him or make him sleep in his infection forever. 

If, like in my case, you are with a wonderful man who longs to love you through the wounds of your past, let him love you.
Don't make him pay the price that porn took on you from someone else's pocket.

Dance in the shower.
Get that dress on.
Let your hair down.
Be beautiful again and own it.
You freaking deserve it.

The ugly truth about porn is that it hurts like hell.
The beautiful truth?
You don't have to live there.

The Proverbs 31 Woman and Social Media

"She is clothed in strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue."

           -Proverbs 31:25-26

If you're a woman, you've read or heard this verse before.


It's plastered on motivational posters at women's conferences.
It's written on our prayer journals.
It's the caption of your Facebook photo.
You hang it around your neck and buy t-shirts with it drawn in a fancy feminine script on the front.


It's easy to wear.
It's simple to read.
But, is it as simple to understand and to LIVE out loud?


I know, I know, parts of the verse don't seem to apply to us anymore in 2014.
Nobody "dresses her family in scarlet" anymore.
But, I believe there is still a real, relevant message contained within this snippet of scripture that we can apply to a modern part of life.


Social media.


It's great to strive to achieve proverbs 31 status by respecting your spouse, loving your children and providing a nurturing/hard-working presence within the walls of your own home.
But, are we neglecting one of the largest influences that we have on others as Christian women?


Let's break a part the snapshot of the verse above and ask ourselves individually if we are truly living out the Proverbs 31 identity in the cyber world as well as our living rooms.
First, let me say a quick prayer for myself before digging deep into my own heart and possibly finding things I don't want to see. YIKES!


"Jesus, pry open my heart and my eyes to what breaks You. Where in my thoughts, my heart, my relationships, my interactions on the internet and in person can there be a better reflection of You and not Britney? Show me the things I don't see, even the ugly, fleshly things. Help me recognize my short-comings and instill wisdom in me. Amen."

Now, let's do this thang.


"She is clothed in strength and dignity..."


First question: What clothes are you wearing on social media?


Is it strength and dignity? Or is it negativity, self-pity, low self-esteem, bitterness, busy-ness, unforgiveness or gossip?


Strength here is not referring to an overpowering woman. To me, it can be the strength to restrain from lashing out, strength to take pain and use it for her own betterment. Strength to use wisdom and remain in silence instead of using her words as a weapon.


Are you clothed in wisdom? Or are you clothed in pettiness?


Are you clothed in dignity?
Or are you standing there on social media, totally stripped naked of all the beautiful garments a lady in Christ would wear?


When you update the world, are you clothed in all things good; grace, mercy, love, compassion, patience, wisdom & truth?


Or are you clothed in all things fleshly?
Before word vomiting all over everyone's newsfeed, I should be asking myself:

"Are you wearing what Britney would pick out to wear today? Or are you going to let Christ lay out your wardrobe for you?"

As for me, I want to hit my knees before hitting the post button.
I guarantee once praying about whatever issue I am about to blast on social media, I will no longer feel the need to post it any longer.


Honestly, airing my dirty laundry is stinky.
It stinks and nobody wants to smell it.

 "...She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue."

Second question: What is on your tongue? 

Obviously, we are all human here.
We make mistakes.
We let our tongues flap wildly more than they should.
This is why God has laid all of this onto my heart.

What is on my tongue?
Honestly, a lot of the time things that I am not proud of.

I'll tell you something, it's not always "faithful instruction".
I'll tell you something else, I'm not always speaking with wisdom!

But, I strive to do both of these.
Especially on social media, as lately this has been my focus.

Did you know your Facebook page, your Instagram or even your twitter feed could be a testimony? 
Even a witness? 
A light? 

Your thoughts are reaching hundreds, sometimes thousands of people, ladies.

You have the opportunity to say so much to someone who is hurting, lost or just seeking someone full of hope, help and positivity with the click of a button.

Unfortunately, you also have the opportunity to destroy, to hurt, to break, to wound, to slander, to gossip...also with a click of the button.

How you use social media is in your hands and though you aren't using your actual tongue, the same principal still applies.
The tongue (in this case your fingers) has the power to destroy or to build up, to degrade or to encourage. 

Proverbs 18:21 - Death and life [are] in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.

So, what's on your tongue on social media?
Just because the words do not ever pass your lips, does not mean they do not have extreme power. 

Life is not always grand, but are you approaching your hurt with the Cross in mind or something else?

You do not have to pretend everything and everyone in this journey is always okay, but you do have to answer to how you reacted along the way. 

Matthew 12:36-37 

"I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.”

I desire to speak with wisdom on social media. 
I desire to NOT speak with wisdom on social media if need be.

I desire to have delightful things on my tongue; faithful instruction, encouragement, hope, grace.

The tongue is a double-edged sword and I choose to lay it down and to stop using it as a weapon of destruction.

I pray that Christ is the first we approach when we have something to say, not our status'; whether that be a story of success or one of pain.

I know I have a lot of heart-searching to do and personally need to ask God where I stand with Him on social media.

I long to be the Proverbs 31 woman not just to my family, but all who are touched by the consequences of my reactions.

Lastly, replace words in verses about controlling the "tongue" or your "lips" and replace it with the word "thumb," for social media.


"When there are many words, sin is unavoidable, but he who restrains his thumbs is wise."-Proverbs 10:19

Silly exercise, but a whole lotta truth.

"Jesus, help me reflect You in every form that I may take on, in the home or on the internet. Help my ears be open to Your voice and my heart open to Your guidance. Help me be more about promoting You on social media, not promoting myself or demoting others. Amen."

End of Semester: Why I Write Part Two.

We were asked to re-write an assignment we did in the first week of class to note how we have changed, titled : Why I Write.
Enjoy.

Britney Davis

Ms. Jones

November 11, 2014

           

                                                            Why I Write

Why do I write? I often write to cling to the things that I feel are slipping through my grasp. So many things leave and when they do they leave with such haste we never have the time to really taste them for what they are. Writing allows me to catch a moment, a person, a feeling of bewitching or distain and to capture it just long enough to feel it for all it can be. I like to dance in the meadow of this short life, the dusk of death hastily approaching, letting my limbs flail around in the night air just to catch one firefly of a moment. Once I catch it, I write it. I put the jar up to my face and study my captive. I memorize every morsel of it’s existence, regurgitate it and then I set it free. What a shame it would be to catch such a fleeting, beautiful thing and not allow myself the chance to understand it.

I write so that I never forget the things he said to me in that white-walled, fluorescent-lit room. I write so that I never forget that day where we stood in the rain, my hand lingering in that handshake longer than it should. I write so that I never forget the brown chair; the one she sung over me in, her blue silk nightgown rocking me into slumber. I write so that I never forget how the sunlight hit my sister’s face, forming so many different shapes and objects onto her freckles beneath our fortress of leaves many falls ago. I write so that I may never forget the lessons that I learned through the laughter of a six year old, his front right tooth crowning the gums.

I write so that I might not forget how it felt to ride on his shoulders, baseball stadium lights revealing half of his features while cloud lightning highlighted the rest. I write so that I might not forget what it is to hear your own heart break and what it is to see it quilted back together with the thread from another. I write so that I might not forget the little things, the seemingly insignificant things like eyebrow stitches and red cowgirl boots. I write so that I might not forget the feeling of dancing to Billy Joel with my grandmother or riding in my grandfather’s blue pickup truck down a flat Oklahoma road.

I write to discover the woman I am through the memories of a girl I thought I knew. Sometimes I do not know what I think about the world until I have written about it. Sometimes I think I know who I am until I write, then I discover a new nook in my soul that I had not stumbled upon before. Writing is a like a flashlight in the unknown of my own psyche. It is always guiding me, re-directing my feet and showing me new corners and crevices of my own mind that I have neglected or forgotten was there.

Writing is all about capturing the precious things that could be lost or forgotten. My heart has fallen madly in love with the beauty of memoir. What greater way to re-live every beautiful, wild, painful, shameful, regretful, magnificent, take-your-breath away moment than to learn the art of writing a memoir. The memoir is the capturing of many fireflies. It is learning lessons from their hypnotizing glow and then letting them go back to whatever magical place it is that fireflies sleep. The memoir allows you to share your treasures and all of your dark places that hurt you, yet taught you the most about living, romance and simplicity. I write because it is the ultimate mentor, the most qualified of educators and the greatest lover a mind could take.

The Stepmom Chronicles: Fill Your Own Shoes

I'm going to let you in on a small secret.
Are you ready for this?
It's probably going to change your life.

Okay, here it is:

I'm...human. 


Whew, I'm so glad that's over with. 
Are you shocked right now?


OH, me neither. 

As many of you know, I'm a fairly new step-mother, only filling this role for a year now. 
I went from 0 to 100 in 1.6 seconds! Talk about a ride!

Each day I learn something new about our three very different boys.

Caler, Mr. Daddy Jr, whose favorite color is purple, who doesn't like anyone to touch his food but him, who is always the one to hug me the most and at the most random of times even when I'm sweaty from an afternoon run. 

Corban, the Minecraft King, the blonde-haired, long-eye-lashed sweet heart who loves pizza, playing ninjas and is the first to greet me at the door. 

Cannon...oh cannon, our bouncy, smiley, witty little thing who always seems to have a tooth missing somewhere yet never misses the punch line of one of my jokes. 

Just like I learn new things about our boys each day, I learn how to walk just a little more as their step mother than I did the day before. 

I am a very young step momma, making this transition with as much grace and wisdom as humanly possible.

When you step into your role as a step parent, you're walking on fresh baby legs. 
You're wobbly, your knees shake and sometimes you trip on that insistent snag in the carpet over and over again. 

Want to know something surprising?
I have never seen a parent scold their newborn baby for tripping up while learning to walk.
When they wobble, when they take those shaky first steps to their mother's open arms and face plant, slobbering all over their new rug, the mother doesn't furrow her brow and show her child disdain.

Why?
Because the mother knows she once had to learn to walk too.
She fell too.
No child enters the world knowing how to walk like an adult. 

As a step parent, you don't waltz into your new family unit knowing how it works, knowing how to play your "role," the role only you can define.

If you do dance into your stepchildren's lives trying to play biological parent, not easing into being a parent, resentment can flare. 

You are learning, step momma. That's okay. 
You are human. That's okay too.

You do not need to fill the mother's role or the father's role, you need to fill your role.

Each unit is different, so you alone must decide what that role should be to create a healthy environment for your step children.  

Fill your own shoes. 

Because guess what?
Nobody...NOBODY can fill those shoes better than you.
You don't have to play mom, dad, disciplinarian or any role that this particular play doesn't call you to fill.

They don't need another mom or dad, they need you and all of the unique qualities and special love you have to offer. 

They need you to love their daddy.
They need you to be an open ear.
They need you to hug them when they feel afraid.
They need you to support their parents in disciplines and structure. 

You are the support beams to this house. 
You lift up when you need to and you carry weight when you need to. 

No one can be their step momma better than you can. 

No one can learn to walk for you, you must learn on your own and on your own time. 



"I have set the LORD continually before me; Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken." -Psalm 16:8

The Little Blue Square

Let me start off by informing you all that I originally planned to totally deactivate my Facebook page.

Instead, I totally removed the app from my smart phone.

I have slowly been making changes in how I use social media (but first let me take a selfie), but this is the biggest.

The checking it, checking in, scrolling, constant need to see what was going on...enough was enough.

The app is removed. In order to check it, I will have to get my laptop out at home (where I rarely am) and log in.

I have hidden people from my sight due to negativity in general.

Such precious time had been wasted on useless scrolling and updating.

Why, you ask?
What's the harm?

I don't need to let the world know any time I eat a healthy salad, get a hair cut or go on a date night with my husband.

I don't need to update Facebook every time I catch up with an old friend over coffee.

I don't need to let anyone know what I wore today or how well my life is going.

I need to re-focus my intentions and re-evaluate who my true audience should be.

Instead of posting photos of my kids and talking about how much fun we are having together, I should be more present IN THAT MOMENT- without my smart phone or it's camera.

Instead of updating everyone on my romantic evening out, I should be looking more into my husband's eyes, not a screen.

The likes, the shares, the constant need for approval; it's not worth it.

It's not worth the time lost, the moments lost, the giggles missed, that look he gives you that you didn't see because you were too busy refreshing your page for a new like.

I am not absent from social media, but I am choosing to be more present in my real life-the life I should be totally focused on.

My kids do not care and never will care how many people saw a photo of us putting a puzzle together or baking cookies.
My kids DO care that when they are with their step mom, she is totally focused on them and her phone is put away.

They will look back and remember that instead of intently watching how many people liked the highlights of my relationships with them, that I was intently and intentionally focused on that relationship OFF of social media.

I have come to terms with the fact that my life can be great and I don't have to let the world know about it.

I can in fact survive day to day and not need approval or acknowledgment.

Social media is not the audience I should be trying to please.

I believe every relationship around me will improve by removing the constant pressure to inform you of my plans for the day.

I will be more apt to be in the moment, for THAT moment.

I want to capture time with my eyes, with laughs and with real hugs and real conversations instead of capturing life through a lens or a screen.

Life is going to be much more beautiful to look at when I'm really, I mean REALLY looking at it.

Who would want to see their loved ones' smile through a smudged iPhone camera when they could see it the way it was designed to be seen?

I have been cheating myself of genuine interaction and deceiving myself into thinking that just because everyone else lives through the blue square that I have to too.

Excuse me while I have things to see.

Really, really see.