One of the things that I noticed upon returning to Toronto back in 2001, was the proliferation of tags, graffiti, and the assorted sprayings that adorn, or perhaps, better said, obscure many public surfaces. You can’t go by a newspaper box, mailbox, street sign, electrical box, or unprotected building without seeing something scribbled on it.

As I write today, we have some minor tagging on our church building. Some on our brick and some on our emergency exit doors. I know I have to get to work and clean that up soon or more will collect. Graffiti is like pigeons or seagulls. Once there is one, others follow and the mess only gets bigger!

I have read that both urban graffiti, as well as, litter have a huge psychological impact on a neighborhood. The more garbage and graffiti the higher the crime. Why is it that people feel the need to mark their (or at least what they think is their) territory? Is a tag a poor man’s monument? Do I look at a tag and go, oh, “Bif” or “Lester” is a great guy, after all, this stop sign was merely a serviceable stop sign until he came along and defaced it?

I take comfort in the fact that graffiti has always been a part of urban life. In World War 2, US soldiers often wrote the “Kilroy was here” slogan wherever they went. I also know that you can find ancient graffiti in Pompeii and elsewhere, much of which were political or editorial comments of one sort or another.

Perhaps tags and graffiti are a way, however destructive and ugly, of proving one’s existence. It seems to me, though, that public defacement for the sake of scribbling your initials, is just plain nasty and selfish. I wonder do taggers ever actually tag their own homes?

Still there is another side to this spraying scenario. Not all that is deposited in the community is ugly and destructive. Since coming to Toronto, I have also found amazing works of graffiti art. Piece large and grand and colourful. Some in secluded areas, public yes, but not in the open, more like in the alleyways and back of buildings. Some beautify abandon buildings others beautify garage doors. The picture accompanying this blog was taken by me in our neighbourhood and it is just one of several pieces that I have photographed and put on my flickr site. There is no doubt in my mind that some of this kind of creative, expressive work is wonderful and welcome. It doesn’t destroy public property, it respects public property. It doesn’t profane, it breathes life and communicates. Some of these pieces of street art, as I call it, make our alleyways art exhibits and they deserve to be appreciated and seen. It is a way of sharing ones’ life in a creative, expressive way.

How do you leave your mark each day? Does it contribute to what is beautiful or ugly? Is it selfish, or giving? Does it deface what is beautiful or does it enhance with new life? What are the effects of your emotional graffiti? Each one of us is part of many communities, we all contribute something, whether we want to or not. At the end of the day are you a tagger or an artist?

When was the last time you really felt in control? How long has it been since things just work? Is that sobbing I hear in the background?

It seems to me that things everywhere are getting more gizmoy and less useful. Phones used to plug in somewhere, and when you weren’t home, you didn’t have to worry about answering them. Then answering machines came along–this was a good thing because then you had a machine that allowed you to not answer the phone when you were home as well. Ah, good times, good times!

Now, we have the wireless umbilical cord call cell phones. It seems to me my old half-pound Motorola did a much better job at actually being a phone than anything on the market now. Not only are we available all the time, now we are annoyed by cell phones whose rings are too faint or vibrations too distant. On the plus side, we can have our phones play the theme to Gilligan’s Island and that makes up for the fact that we can’t hear it in our pockets. Meanwhile, we still justify having them because at least they take pictures, play songs and games and allow us to watch tv on a screen we would rather step on than watch at home. Ah the age of digital. I used to think digital was cool, now it is just another word, for compressed ick that we think is cool because we can watch it while we stand in line somewhere.

This rant could go on forever, but let me just tell you how I scored one for the not so little guy (me). I took back my life. I discombobulated the glitz. I got myself some clean lines and simple function. I went into the MSN messenger options and I turned off everything I could. No sounds, no emoticons, no nudges, no pictures displayed for myself or my contacts–just quiet simple virtual real estate. Now if someone wants to send me a message, I don’t have to look at a blinking, shaking, mess of images, complete with assorted body functions, just to say hi to someone. (Of course, I guess I could get a classier bunch of friends, but who would have me?) Text is back, feel the love. Next I am going to re-introduce capitalization and punctuation. Order, structure, I’m coming to get ya, buddy!

What is it in your life that used to be about substance, but has now migrated to superficial image and noise? What used to be simple, that you’ve now made complicated? I hope the answers to both of these questions isn’t “your faith”!

How important are my words? I often ask myself that question. The stuff I do at Graceland takes time and effort. It sucks up most of my free-time and some of my sleep. In November of 2006 it will be ten years since I started Graceland. That is almost an eternity on the net—particularly for a personal site.

As you can imagine, from time to time the question arises—why bother? How important is this internet stuff that I do? Does the impact and satisfaction justify the work and sacrifice? Many days I am not quite so sure. Some days I am absolutely positive that it isn’t! This past week God gave me a bit of a perspective nudge with a virtual 2 x 4.

Some of you might have noticed that earlier this week “Cold Feet” went AWOL. My buddy and net mentor Rod inadvertently zigged when he should have zagged and a redirection on his site rendered my blog invisible. Given the scope and technical nature of all that Rod does, it amazes me that this kind of thing is such a rarity.

So, for a day and a bit my “Cold Feet” was replaced with Rod’s “Dog’s Nose“. Trust me—it was as uncomfortable as it sounds! While such a switch may have been a welcome break for most of you, it was unsettling for me. I would love to say that I kept calm, cool, and casual about the whole thing and that I didn’t jump to any conclusions, but that sadly isn’t the case. My reaction was more like a two-year-old in a daycare: “Don’t touch! Mine! Mine! Mine!”

My insecurity started to stir. From my perspective, I couldn’t see how a redirection could be anything but intentional. Then the questions came. Is this censorship? Did I offend someone? Did Rod get sick of me and my techno- whining? My heart started to pound; my mind started to swim in an ugly cesspool of my own making.

I am so thankful that I prayed and that I didn’t make any accusations or become angry in my anxiety before I heard back from Rod. He has enough on his plate without having to deal with an angry bonehead. Dealing with a docile bonehead is trouble enough!

Here is what I learned during this brief blackout:

• First, words, my words, are very important, at least to me, and hopefully a smattering of the discerning. I had no idea how important they were to me until I started to consider that my thoughts were no longer available. To be honest I felt violated. Even though it didn’t make sense, based on what I know of Rod, I still felt that way. I couldn’t help it.

• Second, you are what you say. Sure “actions speak louder than words” and “words are cheap”… yada, yada, yada, but words: what we say, and how we express ourselves, communicate who we are and what we care about. For good or for bad, our words represent us. With that in mind, phrases like: “I was only kidding,” “I didn’t mean it,” and “I’m just having a bad day” should never have to be uttered. Your mouth is loaded, make sure you are careful about where you aim and shoot it off. Your fingers are loaded as well, so be careful about what you type and send in e-mail and chats. Often the Net increases our cruel carelessness and it also allows us to jump to conclusions at hyper speed.

• Finally, we need to give each other the benefit of the doubt and wait on the facts. I knew that some of the conclusions I was coming to about Rod had no basis in experience. They didn’t make sense. Rod wouldn’t do what I was, in my anxiety, imagining. To be honest with you, I am ashamed about some of my imagined “gems”. My emotions were on caffeine overdrive all day—all for naught. What a waste of time!