Dear future hubster,
you don't need me to tell you that a lot of awful things are happening in the world, more so nowadays than what I think I remember, and you also don't need me to tell you that it's difficult for a girl like me not only because I want the wolrd to be a lovely cozy wonderful place for everybody, but also because I don't know what to do to make it so. (Now come think of it, statements starting with "you don't need me" don't make it any better either.)
So when we're lightyears away from when WTF was an appropriate and accurate response to the things happening, when a girl like me, one who lives and thrives on reading and writing, one who would not ever shut up, doesn't know what to say because the words have no meaning or the meaning they have doesn't reflect the reality we're experiencing, the nagging voices asking what I'm doing here and what for and what the point is are getting all the louder, and the "what am I good for" doesn't feel like a question I should or could ask somebody else.
The somebody elses do come around though, and whoever is in charge of my visitors' schedules has a particular sense of humour because they always tend to show up at the same time, so after weeks of just me and the nagging voices there's suddenly representatives of the Luxembourg crew, the family crew, the Juba crew, the New York crew, and the Goma making their appearances all within two weeks, and they do make me oh so happy because they are unassuming and no-nonsense and they ask the good questions and say the funny things and cry about the important things and also laugh about them and there's cheese and sleepy faces and suitcases on the floor and somewhere within the busy uneventfulness of an impromptu work-from-my-home gettogether I have a revelation.
That maybe my purpose is simply that somebody can take a nap on my couch, should they need it.
