Mapping my life
When you write your autobiography, don’t forget to include a map of where you’ve lived. After all, the detail is what makes the story.
I spent some time this afternoon, updating my personal Google map. Embellishing, according to one participant in the project. Providing evidence of my self-important nature, according to another. I won’t post my work here, for lack of space, but it doesn’t have much to do with Risk or other samples of world domination. I’ve managed to receive my mail in four provinces (only), and the wide angle view still shows a lot of detail.
My forté; living on islands. My magnet: the ocean. My most regretted lapse: subsidized accommodations provided by my employer. After all, isn’t it my duty to pay rent or mortgage until I die? (I fervently hope not). I’ve live in places that had no traffic lights, or public transit. I’ve also rode the subway on a daily basis (another lapse in attention).
And now that I’ve completed one project, I’ll have to find another. Maybe a charting of family vacations through the decades. How about a shout out to my siblings (although they’ve been very Ontario-centric for the last forty years). Perhaps a list of pets, or schools (there’s an idea). After all, with the Google Map API readily available, I might as well do what I can to add to their “background” on me.
I didn’t climb on the holiday shopping sleigh today. Better off watching a movie that made absolutely no sense: Inception. According to son #3, I might have to watch it another couple of time AND consult a web site or two if I want to catch the story within the story within the story…
