Googlle

Like every other morning of my life I woke up, turned on the computer, firefox, and the basic Google page so I could, first thing, search for the things I had dreams/nightmares about. (On this particular day it was the spelling of the name: "Jeffrey.") But something caught my eye: Google had two l's! Googlle. Of course Google likes to do this from time to time, change the logo for a day, commemorating something, and usually you can pass the cursor over the logo and it will tell you what it is. (The other day the logo looked like either a hairball or a crushed pastry, and I can't remember what that one was about.) To my relief, it was just about Google's 11th birthday. (It wasn't actually two l's, it was the number 11.)

Still, I felt shaken. Please don't do that to me. I want to open my basic Google page and see the primary colors, the big white page, the familiar font logo. Seeing the word "Googlle" is like going out to your car and having it say Cheevy, or Furd. That's the first comparison that came to my mind, even though I don't own a car. And this got me thinking about a lot of things, like the relationship of the automobile in our culture to the internet, suburbs in postwar United States and comparing them to our present day "virtual suburbs", and comparisons of God and Google. Which led me to think about the Ten Commandments, and realizing I don't even know what the Ten Commandments are, or their origin. Thinking about moving to a remote location with no internet and instead a sizable library of actual books. And finally, thinking about this new online journal I wanted to start.

All of this before my first cup of coffee. This is the beginning of my Sunday, when I should be working on correcting my manuscript. Or I should be resting. Or I should be watching NFL football. I just can't get into NFL football, though, I just don't like it. I'm having trouble caring much about baseball, either. I can't seem to rest on Sunday, yet I can't seem to get anything done. I'm worried about the internet the way people in post-World War ll United States should have been worried about automobiles and the suburbs. I feel like I'm lucky to even have these things to worry about, and not bigger concerns at the moment. Maybe I need to go to church today. Or maybe an art museum.