I've been hibernating for more than an hour in a quiet, serene corner. Little girl is asleep in the cot next to me. I'm tired but slowly recharging my energy to tackle a few more kitchen work. I should be finishing the baby's photo book. I still need a few more pictures to upload from hub's phone for its completion.
This week I've been percolating about the culture divide, why it's so difficult for some people to practice courtesy, politeness, a little bit of manners. I throw a strop more often than I would like but I'm prudent enough to adhere to my mom's words in perpetuity. Smile. Be friendly.
It's hard for some, behaving with complete and utter snobbery towards those not in their peer group, as if they're Royalty and we have to bow and curtsey. Is it pride? Vengeance for sins of centuries past or the simmering tension of integration? They were raised in a loud, chaotic abode? Their school system was all about the noise? I don't know, a simple smile would do.
In social media, we have to be vague or we could hurt ardent allies, real or imaginary. But we observe, we take down notes and proceed with caution. In the daily briefings, we know whom to like, that's a more basic instinct.
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