Remember Ibrahim? It keeps going. Just like the Tsunami.

I haven't found myself thinking about the tsunami recently. In the 8 minute attention span that most folks have these days, even major world events that literally shake continents are forgotten in a matter of weeks. Not forgotten completely, especially by those people who will always be affected, but preempted. Preempted by Michael Jackson's trial reenactments (!) or headlines on Social Security [which, by the way, reflects the way our society thinks- charge everything, deny yourself nothing, and ignore the mounting balance and lack of credit rating]. Not that those items aren't newsworthy, but we have moved on.

The interesting thing is, the tsunami devastation remains, whether we think about it or not. Despite the fact that nobody was around to see the mime struck by the tree in forest, he still remains dead, pinned to the cold earth with wooden limbs. We were around to see the tsunami, however. And no matter if we broke the bank or handed out chump change with our federal aid, it's dollars to donuts that these people will be forgotten. Just like the Afghans, Bosnians, and about 80% of Africa. It isn't that I think that my talking about it will change anything, nor does it make me less responsible. But this muttering into cyberspace feels necessary, if for no other reason than to shake the darkness.

In recent news from my home, my grandma scanned the following article on Ibrahim Parlak, who is currently in his last bid to hang on to residency in the United States. In my previous post on the subject, I stated pretty clearly what I thought. And just like the tsunami, I then didn't think about it anymore after I regurgitated some intellectual/emotional blather. So maybe not entirely true, but I point the slingshot of death back at myself as well. There isn't enough global responsibility, or national, or personal. I realize complacency starts with me. There is no I in team. But I'd rather not talk about it anymore. It feels better to go get a latte with my Starbucks (r) card. So if you want to read about Ibrahim, go ahead. No expectations. For real.