Love among the blogs
Well, well. Seems that one of my predictions for 2002 is already outdated. No Miss Chloe, I admit, still I thought I was being really forward-looking with my prediction of blogger marriages in 2002. Seems I'm behind the times. Got this email from Medley at Uncorked...
Assuming you're talking about people who write weblogs in general, and not just those who use the 'Blogger' tool, there have been a few weblogger weddings already!
My own, for one.
Rebecca's Pocket to JJG
The authors of BackupBrain (if I'm remembering correctly)
... and I'm sure there have been a couple of others.
I'm just sayin'...
-Medley -- A weblog about IT, policy, current events, and more from an INTJ-feminist-geek perspective. http://uncorked.org/medley/
How cool is that? So now they are on notice--we're waiting for the conception part, guys!
December 22, 2001
Friends, family, workfolk, they all ask me--who is this "RageBoy" you keep talking about? (same folks who keep asking what a blog is). To understand someone, I always say, take a look at where they came from. This week Steve Larsen gives us poignant glimpses into RageBoy's early rants in chapter 1 of a book he's working on, "What Were We Thinking?" Locke has posted the chapter in an EGR Send. Here's an example of the sensitive, empathetic and sometimes passionate character we know as RageBoy:
"I've been stuck at IBM for a year with my thumb up my ass and I'm waiting for someone to figure out what the fuck is going on and they've got plans I give them all the time and they file them and say 'Yeah, Chris, that's great,' then they take me into some fucking egg carton room and tell me what I've got to work with, which is nothing, no money no equipment no staff, and then they give me a check and I fucking go home and sit there, where I've got better tech stuff anyway than IBM where it took me three solid months to get an internet hookup, and this is what they want me to do, see, they want me to do the internet thinking, and get them into it, but the first fucking thing they tell me is you've got no resources and 'Oh, by the way, don't talk to anyone about this stuff without clearing it through channels.' A fucking year. And I sit here and some of what I'm hearing is how to work in the system. Well I say fuck the system -- it's dead it's stupid it's non-responsive it's counter productive it's fucking socially evil and if we put any more of our goddamn time into propping up these dead-ass morons we deserve what we fucking get."
"I've been stuck at IBM for a year with my thumb up my ass and I'm waiting for someone to figure out what the fuck is going on and they've got plans I give them all the time and they file them and say 'Yeah, Chris, that's great,' then they take me into some fucking egg carton room and tell me what I've got to work with, which is nothing, no money no equipment no staff, and then they give me a check and I fucking go home and sit there, where I've got better tech stuff anyway than IBM where it took me three solid months to get an internet hookup, and this is what they want me to do, see, they want me to do the internet thinking, and get them into it, but the first fucking thing they tell me is you've got no resources and 'Oh, by the way, don't talk to anyone about this stuff without clearing it through channels.' A fucking year. And I sit here and some of what I'm hearing is how to work in the system. Well I say fuck the system -- it's dead it's stupid it's non-responsive it's counter productive it's fucking socially evil and if we put any more of our goddamn time into propping up these dead-ass morons we deserve what we fucking get."
December 20, 2001
Blog Predictions for 2002
Some iteration of instant messaging and chat functions will merge with blogs for folks to talk amongst themselves--taking 'blogback' to the next level.
More idiots will begin blogging, annoying the hell out of blog pioneers and increasing the velocity of insult hurling.
Doc Searls will announce the first blogger wedding mid-year, when friends who met blogging decide to tie the knot. The conception of their first child will be bloggerized. RageBoy will be all over that shit.
More celebrities will jump on the blog bandwagon.
RageBoy and Winer will go at it again, likely using biological and chemical weapons this time. There will be no winner, but lots of memes.
Corporations will get wind that employees are blogging during work hours and issue anti-blogging policies.
Smart companies will get wind that employees are blogging during work hours and imagine the possibilities.
A major motion picture will feature a character who blogs. The character will be a psychopathic alcoholic intellectual head case.
The part will be offered to Jack Nicholson, who will turn it down because bloggers don't get cute chicks.
Some company, somewhere, will take Gonzo Marketing to heart and underwrite some blog, somewhere, somehow. Please.
Community blogs--or "party blogs" like Gonzo Engaged--will grow in residents and in numbers, morphing into their own form of blogging. These forms will separate from one-man blogs, which will lean more toward journal and journalism than community.
David Weinberger will stop blogging again, only to start again in 2004.
Some iteration of instant messaging and chat functions will merge with blogs for folks to talk amongst themselves--taking 'blogback' to the next level.
More idiots will begin blogging, annoying the hell out of blog pioneers and increasing the velocity of insult hurling.
Doc Searls will announce the first blogger wedding mid-year, when friends who met blogging decide to tie the knot. The conception of their first child will be bloggerized. RageBoy will be all over that shit.
More celebrities will jump on the blog bandwagon.
RageBoy and Winer will go at it again, likely using biological and chemical weapons this time. There will be no winner, but lots of memes.
Corporations will get wind that employees are blogging during work hours and issue anti-blogging policies.
Smart companies will get wind that employees are blogging during work hours and imagine the possibilities.
A major motion picture will feature a character who blogs. The character will be a psychopathic alcoholic intellectual head case.
The part will be offered to Jack Nicholson, who will turn it down because bloggers don't get cute chicks.
Some company, somewhere, will take Gonzo Marketing to heart and underwrite some blog, somewhere, somehow. Please.
Community blogs--or "party blogs" like Gonzo Engaged--will grow in residents and in numbers, morphing into their own form of blogging. These forms will separate from one-man blogs, which will lean more toward journal and journalism than community.
David Weinberger will stop blogging again, only to start again in 2004.
December 18, 2001
tis the season to take pot shots
fa la la la la la la la la
Wow, someone got up on the wrong side of the blog today. Wouldn't have come across this rant by Cameron Barrett on Dave Winer's blogger of the year contest, but RageBoy in a rare two-EGR-send turned me on to the Contest, and later in his blog, to Cam's rant on the unfairness of it all.
My first suspicion: That Cam's relying on memic propagation to boost his OWN standings in the contest as we rush in large numbers to Winer's defense... In other words, me thinks he doth protest too much:
"I was not surprised then, to find my own site (CamWorld) nominated in the Blogger of the Year category. I have a feeling that Dave wanted to include some non-Manila weblogs in his list of nominees, so as to appear less one-sided. Well, thanks but no thanks Dave. I don't care one bit for this awards contest. My site has been around for a long time now, and I have never once asked for it to be nominated for any kind of award. Nor have I ever intentionally submitted it for any awards consideration. Even for awards that actually mean something like the yearly SXSW Interactive competition, where Web site excellence is actually celebrated by a large group of well-repected peers, and not by some overly self-important, egotistical, software programmer in Silicon Valley with a Web site."
Because if he really means what he says, then Cam needs to summon the spirit of the Blog and remember what we're in this for. It's not about democracy. It's not about uniformity. And it's certainly not about being "unbiased." The days of pretend-not-to-have-an-opinion journalism are over.
Blogging is all about what I think. What Dave thinks. What RageBoy thinks. What Doc thinks. What bloggers who've not yet blogged think. It's saying what I want. How I want. It's making up whatever fucking contest strikes my fancy. It's about the Five Fish Blog Award and the Scripting News Awards. And if Cam decides to throw up a CamWorld contest, then I'm down with that too.
And one more thing. You don't see us blog-girls taking pot shots at each other. More proof that blogs imitate life? So boys of the blog, take a deep breath, make peace, and go get your vote on.
-later
fa la la la la la la la la
Wow, someone got up on the wrong side of the blog today. Wouldn't have come across this rant by Cameron Barrett on Dave Winer's blogger of the year contest, but RageBoy in a rare two-EGR-send turned me on to the Contest, and later in his blog, to Cam's rant on the unfairness of it all.
My first suspicion: That Cam's relying on memic propagation to boost his OWN standings in the contest as we rush in large numbers to Winer's defense... In other words, me thinks he doth protest too much:
"I was not surprised then, to find my own site (CamWorld) nominated in the Blogger of the Year category. I have a feeling that Dave wanted to include some non-Manila weblogs in his list of nominees, so as to appear less one-sided. Well, thanks but no thanks Dave. I don't care one bit for this awards contest. My site has been around for a long time now, and I have never once asked for it to be nominated for any kind of award. Nor have I ever intentionally submitted it for any awards consideration. Even for awards that actually mean something like the yearly SXSW Interactive competition, where Web site excellence is actually celebrated by a large group of well-repected peers, and not by some overly self-important, egotistical, software programmer in Silicon Valley with a Web site."
Because if he really means what he says, then Cam needs to summon the spirit of the Blog and remember what we're in this for. It's not about democracy. It's not about uniformity. And it's certainly not about being "unbiased." The days of pretend-not-to-have-an-opinion journalism are over.
Blogging is all about what I think. What Dave thinks. What RageBoy thinks. What Doc thinks. What bloggers who've not yet blogged think. It's saying what I want. How I want. It's making up whatever fucking contest strikes my fancy. It's about the Five Fish Blog Award and the Scripting News Awards. And if Cam decides to throw up a CamWorld contest, then I'm down with that too.
And one more thing. You don't see us blog-girls taking pot shots at each other. More proof that blogs imitate life? So boys of the blog, take a deep breath, make peace, and go get your vote on.
-later
December 13, 2001
If the words of Osama Bin Laden recounting his joy over the WTC attack doesn't leave a lump in your throat and a dull ache in the pit of your gut, the poem he recites at the end of this videotaped meeting with his counterparts will:
I witness that against the sharp blade
They always faced difficulties and stood together...
When the darkness comes upon us and we are bit by a
Sharp tooth, I say...
"Our homes are flooded with blood and the tyrant
Is freely wandering in our homes''...
And from the battlefield vanished
The brightness of swords and the horses...
And over weeping sounds now
We hear the beats of drums and rhythm
They are storming his forts
And shouting: "We will not stop our raids
Until you free our lands''...
I witness that against the sharp blade
They always faced difficulties and stood together...
When the darkness comes upon us and we are bit by a
Sharp tooth, I say...
"Our homes are flooded with blood and the tyrant
Is freely wandering in our homes''...
And from the battlefield vanished
The brightness of swords and the horses...
And over weeping sounds now
We hear the beats of drums and rhythm
They are storming his forts
And shouting: "We will not stop our raids
Until you free our lands''...
December 12, 2001
December 11, 2001
online narcissism
Funny. Just before reading Mike Sanders' entry about being Number One on Google, guess what I was doing. Go ahead, guess. Yep, I had just done my every-few-day jeneane sessum search on Google to see if I had shown up anyplace new. Unlike Mike, no one else has my name. So my personal goal with Google has been different than Mike's goal of making his way to the top Mike Sanders spot. Instead, I've been racing my husband, with the fairly unique name of George Sessum, to see how many pages of google search results we can accumulate. I'm up to five. I've left George in the dust as he anxiously waits to bump to page 3. The difference? I blog. He, on the other hand, hasn't gotten a grip on this time-consuming sport just yet.
Before I started blogging in October, googling Jeneane Sessum brought up one sad result: My unsubscribe to the Acid Jazz mailing list. Disgusted with making other people famous throughout my career in PR, I took a liking to this blogging deal (ordeal?). It gave me a chance to be author, not ghost writer. Thinker, not gopher. It gave me a reason to BE. And now I am someone. Like Mike, it's not really "power" that I feel as I push through my google results. I guess it's a feeling notariety. Respect. Acceptance. Fame. These are good feelings--and something that the day job usually doesn't afford the common guy or gal.
And as I ponder, I'm glad that all the stuff that comes up about me on Google (so far) is good. No humiliations suffered yet.
I wonder how long it will be before search engines start to offer a paid service for NOT listing specific search results... Say you posted something rather explicit on an offbeat site, or posted an online rant about your boss or mother-in-law, later to learn that Google has outed you... Would you pay to be "unlisted," like some folks do with that old hard-copy behemoth known as the white pages? It's a thought. Maybe an odd one. We'll see.
So thanks for making us think Mike. Personally, I love the idea of leaving a legacy to my daughter... One day she'll search up her mama's name and show her friends what I thought. What I wrote. Who I was. And that I talked about her an aweful lot. Hopefully she'll be over 18 though.... I think I've dropped a few curse words here and there. :-)
later...
Funny. Just before reading Mike Sanders' entry about being Number One on Google, guess what I was doing. Go ahead, guess. Yep, I had just done my every-few-day jeneane sessum search on Google to see if I had shown up anyplace new. Unlike Mike, no one else has my name. So my personal goal with Google has been different than Mike's goal of making his way to the top Mike Sanders spot. Instead, I've been racing my husband, with the fairly unique name of George Sessum, to see how many pages of google search results we can accumulate. I'm up to five. I've left George in the dust as he anxiously waits to bump to page 3. The difference? I blog. He, on the other hand, hasn't gotten a grip on this time-consuming sport just yet.
Before I started blogging in October, googling Jeneane Sessum brought up one sad result: My unsubscribe to the Acid Jazz mailing list. Disgusted with making other people famous throughout my career in PR, I took a liking to this blogging deal (ordeal?). It gave me a chance to be author, not ghost writer. Thinker, not gopher. It gave me a reason to BE. And now I am someone. Like Mike, it's not really "power" that I feel as I push through my google results. I guess it's a feeling notariety. Respect. Acceptance. Fame. These are good feelings--and something that the day job usually doesn't afford the common guy or gal.
And as I ponder, I'm glad that all the stuff that comes up about me on Google (so far) is good. No humiliations suffered yet.
I wonder how long it will be before search engines start to offer a paid service for NOT listing specific search results... Say you posted something rather explicit on an offbeat site, or posted an online rant about your boss or mother-in-law, later to learn that Google has outed you... Would you pay to be "unlisted," like some folks do with that old hard-copy behemoth known as the white pages? It's a thought. Maybe an odd one. We'll see.
So thanks for making us think Mike. Personally, I love the idea of leaving a legacy to my daughter... One day she'll search up her mama's name and show her friends what I thought. What I wrote. Who I was. And that I talked about her an aweful lot. Hopefully she'll be over 18 though.... I think I've dropped a few curse words here and there. :-)
later...
December 10, 2001
One of the few moving pieces I've read about the war is this piece by Robert Fisk on his experience as a journalist beaten by an angry group of afghan refugees. A historic piece of first-person journalism, this piece depicts the character of the journalist, whose job as he sees it is to understand more than one side of an issue that has been dramatically oversimplified for the masses.
"They were uneducated – I doubt if many could read – but you don't have to have a schooling to respond to the death of loved ones under a B-52's bombs. At one point a screaming teenager had turned to my driver and asked, in all sincerity: 'Is that Mr Bush?'"
"They were uneducated – I doubt if many could read – but you don't have to have a schooling to respond to the death of loved ones under a B-52's bombs. At one point a screaming teenager had turned to my driver and asked, in all sincerity: 'Is that Mr Bush?'"
December 08, 2001
sleeping dogs
The lesson is: if you can't get him for murder, and you can't get him for road rage, then get him for stealing cable! I'm not a white male, so maybe I don't get it. But my take on the guy is similar to my take on Bill Clinton. Just give up. Leave him alone. You can't win. Maybe he's scum, maybe he's not. But if you haven't gotten him by now, then just move on, because he's obviously a lot better at some things than you are. Not to mention, don't these law enforcement officers have an anthrax killer and a few resident terrorists they need to be looking for about now?
The lesson is: if you can't get him for murder, and you can't get him for road rage, then get him for stealing cable! I'm not a white male, so maybe I don't get it. But my take on the guy is similar to my take on Bill Clinton. Just give up. Leave him alone. You can't win. Maybe he's scum, maybe he's not. But if you haven't gotten him by now, then just move on, because he's obviously a lot better at some things than you are. Not to mention, don't these law enforcement officers have an anthrax killer and a few resident terrorists they need to be looking for about now?
December 05, 2001
When I got nothin in me, I tell you so. So there--got nothing. Ever since getting back from vacation the whole family lot has been plagued by some wicked intestinal thing and utter sleepiness. What's up with that? Bad bait on the fishing excursion? Anthrax-laced water? I don't know. And as December begins to wind down, and with it the whole catastrophe of a year, I'm reminded of my favorite web spoof of the 2001. I'm sure you've heard it, but if not, get your drink on and your snack on and have a laugh with me. Later.
December 03, 2001
Eric Norlin is gettin his rageboy on over on uncharted shores, where he thumbs his nose at ClickZ with his keyboard-worn finger: "Note to ClickZ: I want my shit back." Smack 'em Eric! (I always figured by that macho photo on ClickZ that you had it in ya.)
the other you
rotting there
in the hot sun
and dripping wet air
the person
once you
spoils
from the inside out.
the plan
too hard to understand
undone years before
the man.
Acrid
to smell and touch
no one to revive
you
no movement
no breath
until
suddenly
vision oozes
from veins
thought spasms,
fingers and toes uncurl
as limbs jerk
and go rigid.
good ideas
often
die hard.
rotting there
in the hot sun
and dripping wet air
the person
once you
spoils
from the inside out.
the plan
too hard to understand
undone years before
the man.
Acrid
to smell and touch
no one to revive
you
no movement
no breath
until
suddenly
vision oozes
from veins
thought spasms,
fingers and toes uncurl
as limbs jerk
and go rigid.
good ideas
often
die hard.
December 01, 2001
cry for help
Back from vacation, I'm stumped. I thought I was over it. But the blog tugs at my pant leg. Comeon, baby, blog some more. say something else. let go. it feels so good. Meanwhile, where'd my husband go? Did my daughter just unbolt the front door and head out? Wait--just let me finish this one thought; I'll be right there... and I'll get right to those bills, those dishes, those phone calls, those assignments.... just one more thought... just one more...
Like a trip to Betty Ford, my week-long sans-Internet Florida vacation taught me something. I am one-hundred percent addicted to blogging. I got it bad. And I'm not so sure I want to stop. But I'm pretty sure I need to get a grip.
You see, I got the shakes about an hour out of town. Some little DSL demon on my shoulder, looking back through the rearview mirror, wondering when he'd get his next fix. Whispering in my ear, poking at me--"We should go back. You coulda grabbed the laptop. What the fuck--we're gonna miss a lot. They'll never remember you. You gotta find a connection down there. We can't go a whole week."
Six hours of driving with a four year old, and I'm through detox. Between the road, the games, the pit-stops, next thing you know, it's a brand new day. A week at the spa--ocean breezes, good chow, swiming pools, fresh seafood. THIS is living. No news. No blogs. Who cares? Don't need 'em. I'm a new man. (well, woman). I love my husband and sweet baby girl. I'm so glad to be hanging out here with them, pure family devotion. Nothing else. Walking the pier, fishing (did someone say fishrush? noooo man. I don't fishrush no more).
That online world, the one that got me so high, is far behind. And, like I thought I'd never be, I'm glad. So glad I kicked that habit. I've been such a shitty mom lately. Not much better of a wife. Tied to the laptop. What have I been thinking? I'm so glad I'm over it. When I get back, It's billable hours only, get that paycheck, and forget the rest. RGE's in good hands. Locke's got Gonzo under control. He doesn't need me, for sure. No one really needs me out there. Wshew! What a load off my shoulders.
Glad.
Don't need it.
It's gone.
I'm free.
High-five to my higher power; I'm cured.
And now I'm back home.
In total relapse mode. On this laptop all weekend, I'm right back in it, man, and it tastes good, smells good, feels good, and my senses are so keen, and my brain is on fire, and I'm blogified like never before. Gimme more. I need more. Where is everyone? Shit, RageBoy hasn't had a post since Friday. Doc's on his strict blogging regimin (what is it, two hours a day?). Steve left off with that St. Andrew's day thing. And I already talked about Mike Sanders why we blog question over on RGE.
So where's the shit? I NEED some more SHIT! Where did my connections go?
please guys, just one more time.
i need it bad.
Back from vacation, I'm stumped. I thought I was over it. But the blog tugs at my pant leg. Comeon, baby, blog some more. say something else. let go. it feels so good. Meanwhile, where'd my husband go? Did my daughter just unbolt the front door and head out? Wait--just let me finish this one thought; I'll be right there... and I'll get right to those bills, those dishes, those phone calls, those assignments.... just one more thought... just one more...
Like a trip to Betty Ford, my week-long sans-Internet Florida vacation taught me something. I am one-hundred percent addicted to blogging. I got it bad. And I'm not so sure I want to stop. But I'm pretty sure I need to get a grip.
You see, I got the shakes about an hour out of town. Some little DSL demon on my shoulder, looking back through the rearview mirror, wondering when he'd get his next fix. Whispering in my ear, poking at me--"We should go back. You coulda grabbed the laptop. What the fuck--we're gonna miss a lot. They'll never remember you. You gotta find a connection down there. We can't go a whole week."
Six hours of driving with a four year old, and I'm through detox. Between the road, the games, the pit-stops, next thing you know, it's a brand new day. A week at the spa--ocean breezes, good chow, swiming pools, fresh seafood. THIS is living. No news. No blogs. Who cares? Don't need 'em. I'm a new man. (well, woman). I love my husband and sweet baby girl. I'm so glad to be hanging out here with them, pure family devotion. Nothing else. Walking the pier, fishing (did someone say fishrush? noooo man. I don't fishrush no more).
That online world, the one that got me so high, is far behind. And, like I thought I'd never be, I'm glad. So glad I kicked that habit. I've been such a shitty mom lately. Not much better of a wife. Tied to the laptop. What have I been thinking? I'm so glad I'm over it. When I get back, It's billable hours only, get that paycheck, and forget the rest. RGE's in good hands. Locke's got Gonzo under control. He doesn't need me, for sure. No one really needs me out there. Wshew! What a load off my shoulders.
Glad.
Don't need it.
It's gone.
I'm free.
High-five to my higher power; I'm cured.
And now I'm back home.
In total relapse mode. On this laptop all weekend, I'm right back in it, man, and it tastes good, smells good, feels good, and my senses are so keen, and my brain is on fire, and I'm blogified like never before. Gimme more. I need more. Where is everyone? Shit, RageBoy hasn't had a post since Friday. Doc's on his strict blogging regimin (what is it, two hours a day?). Steve left off with that St. Andrew's day thing. And I already talked about Mike Sanders why we blog question over on RGE.
So where's the shit? I NEED some more SHIT! Where did my connections go?
please guys, just one more time.
i need it bad.
a reverse auction, priceline-style, takes shape offline at Ohio gas pumps. How many goobers do you think drove 100 miles to fill up at ten cents a gallon?
November 30, 2001
not again
turned
inside out by what
went down
that day
that way
leaving what
I thought I had
behind
getting
what I never wanted
and again
it doesn't seem real
and again
it feels sharp
jagged
so here we are
too close
to where it began
and I feel my nails
dig in
to tender flesh
don't make me
don't break me
fury is a storm
that moves in quckly
explodes
then eases out
no time
to find cover
no time
to brace
for change
it's too easy
to come undone.
turned
inside out by what
went down
that day
that way
leaving what
I thought I had
behind
getting
what I never wanted
and again
it doesn't seem real
and again
it feels sharp
jagged
so here we are
too close
to where it began
and I feel my nails
dig in
to tender flesh
don't make me
don't break me
fury is a storm
that moves in quckly
explodes
then eases out
no time
to find cover
no time
to brace
for change
it's too easy
to come undone.
and then there were two
On the passing of the wisest Beatle, Doc Searls, the wisest blogger, remembers. Doc's review of George Harrison's philosophy bears repeating here:
THE BEARER OF THIS PASSPORT HAS TAKEN THE FOLLOWING PLEDGE:
I shall love all.
I wholeheartedly pledge to respect anyone's religion, nationality, faith, culture, language, etc...
Never shall I cross a border to conquer or impose an ideology.
In no way will I take part or interfere in government politics, but will assist in every way possible to bring about better understanding without creating any conflict.
— George Harrison, 1943-2001 (from All Things Must Pass)
IMAGINE if we all lived our lives this way.
What are others saying about Harrison's passing? Daypop tells us.
On the passing of the wisest Beatle, Doc Searls, the wisest blogger, remembers. Doc's review of George Harrison's philosophy bears repeating here:
THE BEARER OF THIS PASSPORT HAS TAKEN THE FOLLOWING PLEDGE:
I shall love all.
I wholeheartedly pledge to respect anyone's religion, nationality, faith, culture, language, etc...
Never shall I cross a border to conquer or impose an ideology.
In no way will I take part or interfere in government politics, but will assist in every way possible to bring about better understanding without creating any conflict.
— George Harrison, 1943-2001 (from All Things Must Pass)
IMAGINE if we all lived our lives this way.
What are others saying about Harrison's passing? Daypop tells us.
November 18, 2001
I usually take a while to form my thoughts. That's why I haven't gotten in to the whole what are blogs debate that seems to be buzzing around blogsville these days. Journal, diary, academic rhetoric, introspective indulgence, journalism--I don't know. To me, blogging is all of these things and none of them. The one thing I know for sure is that the velocity of online interconnections is reaching warp-speed thanks to blogs and bloggers. When's the last time you went to a traditional website to see what's new? To get tuned in and turned on? For my part, now that I've become a blogger, I have one or two websites I check every now and then--primarily because I need to see how tightly I should fasten my seatbelt in light of the global turbulents that rock our world. Other than those couple of websites, though, I'm all about blogs. It's because of their freshness, newness, and with many, because of their humor. So, as I weigh in on the what-are-blogs debate, after all the profound things have already been written by my counterparts, I don't have much left to say. Except that I'm happier and smarter for having found this thing called blogging.
November 15, 2001
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