It's funny that when a discussion emerges about lackluster linking to women's voices, some guys never fail to bring their mothers. Theirs or someone else's.
It looks to me as though some men's way of getting defensive is to say--But I love my mom!
That's cool that you love mom. That's GREAT in fact. It is a wonderful thing when a child-parent relationship is healthy and loving. I hope my kid says the same thing when she's 30, 40, 50. If I make it that far.
But, I was thinking last week, that if it was the daughters of these men (Marc has one I think; Dave I don't know) coming to them as grown women, accomplished in technology or related feilds (just like Dad(s)), and who happened to also be great writers, saying: "They don't hear me, Dad; they don't even want to listen," THEN would these same men notice with just a bit more sincerity what really happens "out here"? What it looks like beyond their blogstep? If their own daughters told them how it feels, would they tell those same women to go be a mom so that one day their sons can link to them?
We are your moms. We are also your wives, your daughters, your grandmothers, your whores, your starletts, your nurses, your mistresses, your teachers, your proctologists, your politicians.
Okay?
May 16, 2005
Goal #2
Let us never take commenting for granted, the act of which is but one inaliable blog right our foreparents gave their lives for.
(I dunno what's wrong with YACCS today. In my case, probably down due to lack of weekend use. het-hem.)
(I dunno what's wrong with YACCS today. In my case, probably down due to lack of weekend use. het-hem.)
May 15, 2005
Once Again, I get to say HA HA HA.
Dan Pink names the research that proves it:
I write best in the prone position. Plain fact. All my life. From birth-through-40s. From homework to real work. From algebra to Noka. From Emerson to IBM.
So THERE, I say to all who make fun of me for working lying down on my bed. Yes indeed. My desk is a king-size mattress, my cubemate is a TV, and my bathroom is a mere six steps away. If I had the coffee maker up here, there's no telling what I could create.
When in Rome...
Research to be published today in the journal Cognitive Brain Research suggests that we're more creative lying down than standing up. In a study conducted by a psychologist at the Australian National University, subjects solved anagrams faster in a prone position than while standing. What's behind these results? Noradrenaline. That's a neurotransmitter that enhances the more focused aspects of cognitive ability, but in the process may impair the symphonic thinking associated with creativity. When we lie down, however, we release less noradrenaline -- and therefore our creativity may encounter fewer impediments. If this is right, I see a huge market in adult-sized kindergarten nap mats. Posted on 05/11.
I write best in the prone position. Plain fact. All my life. From birth-through-40s. From homework to real work. From algebra to Noka. From Emerson to IBM.
So THERE, I say to all who make fun of me for working lying down on my bed. Yes indeed. My desk is a king-size mattress, my cubemate is a TV, and my bathroom is a mere six steps away. If I had the coffee maker up here, there's no telling what I could create.
When in Rome...
A post in which I rant about people
People that pretend to be who they aren't really chafe my scrote, in the words of the illustrious wonderpoultry. I am so fed up with people who pretend so often in their daily goings on that they don't even know they're pretending anymore. They don't know how rediculous they sound as they tell their secret stories to you--and you already know them--and they shove pretense down the throats of the unwary. I am so overwhelmed by them. I am so sick and tired of the up and the down and the be my friend, be mine not, let me be around you so I can chafe your scrote, just so you can let me know who I can shit on today. Well no way. I say no damn way. You know what, you motherfuckers? You go iritate and subjugate your own selves and the horses you rode your selfish asses in on. You chafe your own scrote. You listen to your own self for five fucking minutes and see if you can believe yourself without vomiting your very heart and soul--as if you HAD any heart and soul. And if I let them, OH people make me crazy. OHH they make me crazy. And they wonder why I shut down. What do you expect us to do--every one of us worth a damn? What do you think we're going to do--that's right, we're going to take your motherfucking cues and shut it down. I look at the hamsters. That's as complex as it needs to be. She takes care of them. They learn to take care of themselves. Their is compassion, concern, correction, respect, fun, play, eat, sleep. NO FUCKING HEADGAMES WITH HAMSTERS. You see? Sure their brains are the size of what, a seed?, but that's not the point. The point is that they are not pretending animals. They are real animals. They are instinctual not coniving. They know that survival is optional--they use their time and attention wisely. COULD YOU TAKE A CLUE? They eat their young for a reason.
Remember that, okay? They eat ther young for a damn reason.
If you don't get it now, I can't help you.
Love,
allied
Remember that, okay? They eat ther young for a damn reason.
If you don't get it now, I can't help you.
Love,
allied
With My Penchant for Ramen...
It's no wonder I dig this post from The Black Table on How to Eat at the Dollar Store.
"
Read on for all the dollar store gourmet treats you may never need.
This post is NSS - Not Sodium Safe
"
Since most dollar stores sell some form of food as well, can the same thing be said about their edibles? Can a person actually make a reasonable meal out of food bought at a dollar store? I decided to go to a couple and find out myself. Figuring that all I was going to find was No-Frills Corn Chips and cans of Shasta, I was quite surprised when I turned down the grocery aisle; there was a lot of stuff there. However, in order to make something that constitutes a filling, edible meal, some creativity is still needed.
Read on for all the dollar store gourmet treats you may never need.
Your edible meat choices at the dollar store pretty much come down to tuna, tuna and tuna. Sure, there are other options, but they consist of meat whose origin, both with regards to location on the planet and on the animal itself, is questionable. Besides the aforementioned corned beef hash, other meat-like products that I did not put in my basket included Vienna sausages, off-brand chili and turkey SPAM.
I did, however, throw some Dinty Moore Chicken Stew in the basket. When I look back on it, I have no idea why.
This post is NSS - Not Sodium Safe
Besides 4 stalks of Celery each day...
I need tips for bringing blood pressure down. Was previously 120-130/80-87. I went hypertensive during surgery five weeks ago and have been ever since. Can't get it down. Doc wants to put me on BenecarHCT. I'm trying to reinvent myself to avoid yet another drug. Tips welcome.
And yes, I'm already on top of the celery thing. Yum yum--it tastes better these days.
And yes, I'm already on top of the celery thing. Yum yum--it tastes better these days.
Moving
My sister and her husband have decided to move out of Georgia. They claim that the genesis ofthis decision comes from the increasing expense of living in the area, and the growing population/congestion issues. But I just don't see it. At least not in their rather limited travels around the area.
What I do see is property values on the rise still, and Cobb County wth some of the lowest taxes you'll find anyplace. We have a great house on 3/4 of an acre and our property tax is $800 a year. It was three times that in Rochester for a crap house on a postage-stamp-size lot.
Stores? got em. Entertainment? got it. Culture? Well, you have to drive a ways for that. Traffic/congestion? That too. But it seems to me the people who complain about traffic the most are the people who never venture past their local Publix.
Now retired, my sister and brother-in-law can live anywhere they can afford on a modest retirement income--there is no requirement to be near suitable employment. So where do they say they're moving?
Oklahoma.
What I do see is property values on the rise still, and Cobb County wth some of the lowest taxes you'll find anyplace. We have a great house on 3/4 of an acre and our property tax is $800 a year. It was three times that in Rochester for a crap house on a postage-stamp-size lot.
Stores? got em. Entertainment? got it. Culture? Well, you have to drive a ways for that. Traffic/congestion? That too. But it seems to me the people who complain about traffic the most are the people who never venture past their local Publix.
Now retired, my sister and brother-in-law can live anywhere they can afford on a modest retirement income--there is no requirement to be near suitable employment. So where do they say they're moving?
Oklahoma.
May 13, 2005
You have GOT to own a Hamster!
I counted eight babies. Jenna counted nine. Don't ask me--ask Coco.
It appears our litter of baby hamster pups are doing quite well. The little buggers' eyes opened yesterday (they're about 13 days old now), and they're leaving the nest several times a day. They drag one another around the cage, each grabbing the end of a baby carrot. They fall in their food dish. They drag dog biscuits back into the nest. They scurry and hurry. And they are so tiny. Smaller than my thumb. And amazing.
The mama sits on top of the wooden hamster house that covers her nest more and more. She's watching them grow. She doesn't have to pick them up and carry them back inside the nest anymore. In fact, I think she likes it when they're out and about. I saw her teach one of the babies how to use the metal hamster wheel last night. She waited and he got in next to her, beside her, as she walked off her post-partum tummy.
Today one of the little guys got on the wheel by himself. He had no problem making it spin, even though he weighs less than a thimble.
The living room smells, yes. Shavings and nesting material are in corners where they'll likely never be fished (or vacuumed) out. I need to buy more shavings and I'm low on dough. Even the little babies manage to bite. And despite all of that, I can't stop marveling at these magnificent creatures.
It appears our litter of baby hamster pups are doing quite well. The little buggers' eyes opened yesterday (they're about 13 days old now), and they're leaving the nest several times a day. They drag one another around the cage, each grabbing the end of a baby carrot. They fall in their food dish. They drag dog biscuits back into the nest. They scurry and hurry. And they are so tiny. Smaller than my thumb. And amazing.
The mama sits on top of the wooden hamster house that covers her nest more and more. She's watching them grow. She doesn't have to pick them up and carry them back inside the nest anymore. In fact, I think she likes it when they're out and about. I saw her teach one of the babies how to use the metal hamster wheel last night. She waited and he got in next to her, beside her, as she walked off her post-partum tummy.
Today one of the little guys got on the wheel by himself. He had no problem making it spin, even though he weighs less than a thimble.
The living room smells, yes. Shavings and nesting material are in corners where they'll likely never be fished (or vacuumed) out. I need to buy more shavings and I'm low on dough. Even the little babies manage to bite. And despite all of that, I can't stop marveling at these magnificent creatures.
Summer in the South
The pool that Jenna and I go to in the summer is open year round. It's not because it's heated or anything. Oh no. Quite the opposite. Because it's an olympic-size pool (it was the largest in the U.S. when it was built in the 1950s), it stays cooooold until about August. Anyway, the reason they leave the pool open all year is that it's too expensive to empty and refill, and no one is stupid enough to get in during the winter. Well, not no one. There are a few each winter who are that brave.
Anyway, today we snuck over and in, and others came too, to enjoy the sun and brave the 60-degree water if you dare. Jenna dared--all the kids dared. I finally dared too. HOLY it was cold. But beautifully cold. Flesh numbing cold against yellow hot sun. The sky was perfect blue, the color of the water's reflection. The throngs of pool goers won't show up until memorial day, so it was quieter than usual.
Before we knew it, we'd been there five hours. Jenna's already tan. I'm red, but it will fade by tomorrow. Tomorrow--when I hope to have the same kind of afternoon as today--except I want to remember some sunscreen and a good book.
The school year ends on Friday. The pool's primed and ready.
Summer's here.
Anyway, today we snuck over and in, and others came too, to enjoy the sun and brave the 60-degree water if you dare. Jenna dared--all the kids dared. I finally dared too. HOLY it was cold. But beautifully cold. Flesh numbing cold against yellow hot sun. The sky was perfect blue, the color of the water's reflection. The throngs of pool goers won't show up until memorial day, so it was quieter than usual.
Before we knew it, we'd been there five hours. Jenna's already tan. I'm red, but it will fade by tomorrow. Tomorrow--when I hope to have the same kind of afternoon as today--except I want to remember some sunscreen and a good book.
The school year ends on Friday. The pool's primed and ready.
Summer's here.
Exciting
We're doing a great blog-related project for a new b-i-g client. When I can share more I will. In the mean time, understand that they're beginning to understand. They're a little confused. That's good, because we can help. This is all just too fun.
May 12, 2005
Hello, Is This That Lisa?
I talked to a client today in the mid-west--it was an introductory conference call after winning the business (yay!) on which the client had two colleagues join her.
So, she's introducing her colleagues to us, one of whom says that her name is Lisa Williams, and I -- not knowing right off the top of my head where Lisa Williams lives -- found myself choking back a yelp of--"Is this the blogging Lisa Williams?"
Instead, during the call, while still listening attentively, I went to Lisa's weblog and saw references to the Berkman Center and decided, then, that this Lisa was probably not that Lisa.
Still, I was smiling. How cool would that have been?
So, she's introducing her colleagues to us, one of whom says that her name is Lisa Williams, and I -- not knowing right off the top of my head where Lisa Williams lives -- found myself choking back a yelp of--"Is this the blogging Lisa Williams?"
Instead, during the call, while still listening attentively, I went to Lisa's weblog and saw references to the Berkman Center and decided, then, that this Lisa was probably not that Lisa.
Still, I was smiling. How cool would that have been?
I want to do what Joi does with his Tags and Google
I like the little box Joi uses to categorize his posts via tags. I have no idea how he does this. How any of you are doing this.
I haven't jumped onto the tag bandwagon for a big reason. It may be a misconception on my part, or it may just be part of blogging too soon. My worry is my archives. I have years worth of posts here--over 2000--and if I start tagging from here forward, I would be neglecting some of my most important writing--the earlier stuff. At the same time, I can simply not imagine going back through 2000 posts to classify and tag what has come before.
The tag angel on my right shoulder says, "You should get on board with the taggers sweetheart, if you're not there, then you're not there." The tag devil on my left shoulder says, "Screw tags. You're a poet." The tag angel on my right shoulder says, "Yes, but will it be any easier when you've got 20,000 posts to go back through?" And the tag devil on my left shoulder says, "Don't worry; you'll be dead before then."
How are you responding to your tag devils and angels today?
I haven't jumped onto the tag bandwagon for a big reason. It may be a misconception on my part, or it may just be part of blogging too soon. My worry is my archives. I have years worth of posts here--over 2000--and if I start tagging from here forward, I would be neglecting some of my most important writing--the earlier stuff. At the same time, I can simply not imagine going back through 2000 posts to classify and tag what has come before.
The tag angel on my right shoulder says, "You should get on board with the taggers sweetheart, if you're not there, then you're not there." The tag devil on my left shoulder says, "Screw tags. You're a poet." The tag angel on my right shoulder says, "Yes, but will it be any easier when you've got 20,000 posts to go back through?" And the tag devil on my left shoulder says, "Don't worry; you'll be dead before then."
How are you responding to your tag devils and angels today?
May 11, 2005
You with graphical abilities, a pox I say!
Enjoy this poetry unless you are a grafical magician who did not heed my post begging yous to make me a little non-fancy icon for my sessum podcasts ... If that be you, then you must go WRITE two new poems yourself as punishment. AND post them. Here too--in comments. Now Go!
[[Jeff is great, but anna really rocks because she did the work for me!]]
Unspoken
Away
[[Jeff is great, but anna really rocks because she did the work for me!]]
Unspoken
Away
Hamster Notes
They come out of the nest at 10 days and they are blind and so they run around using only smell and they are not afraid. The mother, on the other hand, needs valium. I had to finally change the TWO WEEK OLD BEDDING in the cage today. You can't disturb the nest before 10 days are up. I waited a little longer. HOLY RIPE. We had ants that had found a home in there it had been funked for so long. Anyway, when I put the babies back in, I got to count them.
8 little babies.
weeee!
8 little babies.
weeee!
The Loneliness Was There Before We Were...
He fights the ticks and the shouts. I feel bad for him that he is alone. But I can't change him nor can I save him, nor can I cure his loneliness by sacrificing myself.
His lonliness goes so deep that it can't be cured.
Tish G. takes us home with herto say goodbye to her mother. Her father's distress becomes palpable.
It's just like this.
PR Practitioners Need Apply
Good discussion going on over at David's place on hypothetical and not-so-hypothetical dilemmas facing PR people in helping clients join existing, risky, and sometimes frisky conversations AND helping them respond to conflict.
Good advice. Chime in you flacks.
Good advice. Chime in you flacks.
wanna make me an icon or two?
I want a graphic (gif or jpg) to use when I am posting a link to a podcast/mp3 so that you valued and valuable readers know you're going to hear my voice, not go hopping off on my latest textual fantasy.
Actually, I'd like two little icons--one that says podcast (are some of these out there already as CC-usable?) And one little icon that says Pod Poem or Pod Poetry to let you know that a reading from allied's poetry library is coming your way.
Okay. So, that's what I want for mother's day.
(Wooops. Late again.)
Actually, I'd like two little icons--one that says podcast (are some of these out there already as CC-usable?) And one little icon that says Pod Poem or Pod Poetry to let you know that a reading from allied's poetry library is coming your way.
Okay. So, that's what I want for mother's day.
(Wooops. Late again.)
May 09, 2005
I am a mother
Mother's day feels like whiplash to me.
I perseverate about whether or not to reach out to my mother, who I've been estranged from (read finally erected big tall boundaries between) for three years. The story is too long to tell, and much of it is hers to tell, and so I won't tell it. You see, it's one I can't believe myself, which is why it took me 40 years to tell it to myself.
For now, our relationship has to be this way. Did I say we lived 3 miles apart? Yes we do. It is quite simple. I love her so much. I ran for my life. I'm allowed to do that. She loves me so much. There is more in that. And so I run still. Or maybe I've stopped. I'm trying to figure that out.
I have always been very responsible for my mother's feelings, especially her happy ones, especially since such a focus enables me to completely ignore what I'm feeling or how I'm hurting myself. You do that shit long enough, you get on your own nerves.
So instead of doing what I could never imagine myself not doing, this mother's day I went to a park with Jenna, one of my friends and her two children. I watched geese skim the pond while the children climbed and slid on the playground.
We met an old tiny dog with a bandana as big as he was--one of those teeny tiny dogs that could easily be killed by a single sneaker mis-step, so you wonder, how has he lived so long? He was cool. Jenna almost stole him. She told me she wants a small dog. She will keep it in her Cinderella tent. "Little dogs make little messes, Mom."
And that's when it hits me, it's halfway through the day, I'm half present and half grappling with my own grief over unsolvable problems, when I realize, "Hey, I'm a mother too," a fact that had nearly escaped me in my reverie over The Situation. It's okay to enjoy the sun and it's okay to eat a half of an Ultimate sub with jalapenos, and it's okay to let this one be mine, and it's okay to be alone, away, without, with.
That night, when George got home from work, we met the other couple, with our kids in tow, at the Japanese Steak House for a really happy dinner.
I was interrupted by the heavy thud only every hour or so reminding me of all that I've lost, all that I never had. Remiding me that I can't do anything--nothing--to change the parts of "what is" that I'd most like to change. Reminding me that what makes no sense cannot be suddenly made sensible.
But I am a mother too. And it matters.
I perseverate about whether or not to reach out to my mother, who I've been estranged from (read finally erected big tall boundaries between) for three years. The story is too long to tell, and much of it is hers to tell, and so I won't tell it. You see, it's one I can't believe myself, which is why it took me 40 years to tell it to myself.
For now, our relationship has to be this way. Did I say we lived 3 miles apart? Yes we do. It is quite simple. I love her so much. I ran for my life. I'm allowed to do that. She loves me so much. There is more in that. And so I run still. Or maybe I've stopped. I'm trying to figure that out.
I have always been very responsible for my mother's feelings, especially her happy ones, especially since such a focus enables me to completely ignore what I'm feeling or how I'm hurting myself. You do that shit long enough, you get on your own nerves.
So instead of doing what I could never imagine myself not doing, this mother's day I went to a park with Jenna, one of my friends and her two children. I watched geese skim the pond while the children climbed and slid on the playground.
We met an old tiny dog with a bandana as big as he was--one of those teeny tiny dogs that could easily be killed by a single sneaker mis-step, so you wonder, how has he lived so long? He was cool. Jenna almost stole him. She told me she wants a small dog. She will keep it in her Cinderella tent. "Little dogs make little messes, Mom."
And that's when it hits me, it's halfway through the day, I'm half present and half grappling with my own grief over unsolvable problems, when I realize, "Hey, I'm a mother too," a fact that had nearly escaped me in my reverie over The Situation. It's okay to enjoy the sun and it's okay to eat a half of an Ultimate sub with jalapenos, and it's okay to let this one be mine, and it's okay to be alone, away, without, with.
That night, when George got home from work, we met the other couple, with our kids in tow, at the Japanese Steak House for a really happy dinner.
I was interrupted by the heavy thud only every hour or so reminding me of all that I've lost, all that I never had. Remiding me that I can't do anything--nothing--to change the parts of "what is" that I'd most like to change. Reminding me that what makes no sense cannot be suddenly made sensible.
But I am a mother too. And it matters.
If You Were A Hamster's Mother
You would spend day ten after the birth of your children -- a dozen or less, who now break out of the nest two or three at a time about every 5.5 seconds -- picking them up, one by one, and carrying them back inside the nest. In between, you'd grab a piece of dried corn or a few seeds. You would stuff them in your cheek and hope not to choke on them as you drag your still-blind babies back -- over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
THAT's what you would do if you were a hamster's mother.
THAT's what you would do if you were a hamster's mother.
May 08, 2005
It's not going to be the people podcasting...
It's going to be those you trust the most to send you what you want to hear--they will make the difference. In other words, the BoingBoing.net of podcasting. Set it to BoingBoing Podcasts and know that whatever has been integrated into that feed will make you pee your pants or sweat bullets on the way to work, home, or play.
Because you trust them to be funny and absurd and to serve you up the best of funny and absurd. There is a layer of interpretation that you don't have time to do. That's (make believe) boingboing podcasts job.
I don't want Jeneane, I don't want Adam Curry, I don't want George Burns and Gracie Allen. I want the best of all of them, and I don't need the worst of them, and bring me six more just like them.
Open Media THAT motherfuckers.
Because you trust them to be funny and absurd and to serve you up the best of funny and absurd. There is a layer of interpretation that you don't have time to do. That's (make believe) boingboing podcasts job.
I don't want Jeneane, I don't want Adam Curry, I don't want George Burns and Gracie Allen. I want the best of all of them, and I don't need the worst of them, and bring me six more just like them.
Open Media THAT motherfuckers.
elephantpoop
| it has been a very long time since I posted this gem of a photo that I manipulated to depict the process flow within the blogosphere. I think it's time to revisit. |  elephantpoop Originally uploaded by Jeneane. |
Calling the MSM
This is Jenna, on the phone with the Times about the turnaround story of everyone's clamoring for: Coco, the infamous "bad mother" hamster, has been rehabbed from a baby eater into mother of the year.
It doesn't happen every day. "Spell that, J-E-N-N-A."
It doesn't happen every day. "Spell that, J-E-N-N-A."
Happy Mother's Day, Baby
Coco (now Melanie) and Marshmallow (now Max)
Sitting in some shavings
m-i-s-s-be-havin'....
Here is the lovely couple.
I believe you have all met the mother in question, Miss Coco Melanie:
Now I would like you to meet Mr. Stud Muffin himself, Mr. Marshmallow Max:
With looks like these, the kids have to be smokin'. AKA: you want one you know you do.
Sitting in some shavings
m-i-s-s-be-havin'....
Here is the lovely couple.
I believe you have all met the mother in question, Miss Coco Melanie:
Now I would like you to meet Mr. Stud Muffin himself, Mr. Marshmallow Max:
With looks like these, the kids have to be smokin'. AKA: you want one you know you do.
Having Your Babies.... or FREE HAMSTERS!
ALRIGHT--WE ARE HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE IN OUR THIRD TRIMESTER POST-BIRTH, the winners in the Technorati Open Legs Award Category for "Most Babies Eaten in a Single Litter Whose Parents Went On to Produce Real Live Babies!" (I think that means the dead babies win? Or the live ones? Or does it depend what the meaning of 'win' is?)
YES! WE WON! And it was a long road to the winner's circle. But as of today, many (shhh, it's a family secret) of the baby hamsters in litter #2 have survived!!!!
Our babymaking days can now thankfully cease. And with that, we introduce the new brood of Max and Melanie (formerly Marshmallow and CoCo) below:
Aren't they just so sweet!? I KNOW! You simply MUST have one!
YES! WE WON! And it was a long road to the winner's circle. But as of today, many (shhh, it's a family secret) of the baby hamsters in litter #2 have survived!!!!
Our babymaking days can now thankfully cease. And with that, we introduce the new brood of Max and Melanie (formerly Marshmallow and CoCo) below:
Aren't they just so sweet!? I KNOW! You simply MUST have one!
The whole thing
My instincts are to just let this award hoopla pass, except that I can't because then the people I think should be considered won't have a voice into the Open Media awards/honors/whatever-they-get from AOTechnorati100 .
As for the "Founding Fathers" misnomer, read blogHer to find out who said what. I think Dave Sifry's reply in comments, and his swift category name change to "Pioneers" represent a good way to handle these things. He didn't moan and groan and accuse the world of berating the American White Male. He fixed it. Nice. Whether or not this conversation will affect the grander blogosphere's consideration of women nominees remains to be seen.
Dave Rogers raised the most important questions (gender neutral!) in comments here:
I am hoping Technorati and Co. handle giving us answers to these process/methodology questions as elegantly as Dave did handling the Founding Fathers thang.
But the larger questions Dave raises are not unrelated to the discussion over at Shelley's place about blogrolls.
Shit.
When did we all begin taking this place so seriously?
We need a sensibility transplant in the blogosphere.
And yet, here I am, debating whether or not to give my two cents as to nominees. Or to remain on the sideline.
I think I will list the people I'd like to see in these categories. However, I'm not kidding myself that listing them will mean anything in the long run. And I'm only listing in categories I understand. There sure are a lot of categories they forgot. In ABC Order, I submit:
Pioneers
Rebecca Blood
Christopher Locke/RageBoy
Shelley Powers
Dave Winer
Tool Smiths
Stewart Butterfield
Caterina Fake
Mena Trott
Ev Wiliams
Trendsetters
Roxanne Cooper
Aaron Hawkins (posthumously)
Blog Sisters
Stavrosthewonderchicken
Practitioners
George Kelley
Liza Sabater
Jason Toney
David Weinberger
Enablers
The Joi Ito Category.
(Is there anyone else?)
As for the "Founding Fathers" misnomer, read blogHer to find out who said what. I think Dave Sifry's reply in comments, and his swift category name change to "Pioneers" represent a good way to handle these things. He didn't moan and groan and accuse the world of berating the American White Male. He fixed it. Nice. Whether or not this conversation will affect the grander blogosphere's consideration of women nominees remains to be seen.
Dave Rogers raised the most important questions (gender neutral!) in comments here:
First, what is the basis for believing that AlwaysOn and Technorati are entities that are worthy of bestowing "honor" on anything or anyone?
Second, what indicates a need for "a framework of this emerging industry?" What is the framework for? Who will use the framework and to what end?
Third, isn't the purpose of this list really to draw attention to Technorati and AlwaysOn? Don't those two entities have a need for attention that is greater than any "need" for a "framework of this emerging industry?"
Finally, where's all the transparency here? After all the nominations are submitted, who will decide? Are they really nominations, or votes? What is the process for final enumeration of the list?
I am hoping Technorati and Co. handle giving us answers to these process/methodology questions as elegantly as Dave did handling the Founding Fathers thang.
But the larger questions Dave raises are not unrelated to the discussion over at Shelley's place about blogrolls.
Shit.
When did we all begin taking this place so seriously?
We need a sensibility transplant in the blogosphere.
And yet, here I am, debating whether or not to give my two cents as to nominees. Or to remain on the sideline.
I think I will list the people I'd like to see in these categories. However, I'm not kidding myself that listing them will mean anything in the long run. And I'm only listing in categories I understand. There sure are a lot of categories they forgot. In ABC Order, I submit:
Pioneers
Rebecca Blood
Christopher Locke/RageBoy
Shelley Powers
Dave Winer
Tool Smiths
Stewart Butterfield
Caterina Fake
Mena Trott
Ev Wiliams
Trendsetters
Roxanne Cooper
Aaron Hawkins (posthumously)
Blog Sisters
Stavrosthewonderchicken
Practitioners
George Kelley
Liza Sabater
Jason Toney
David Weinberger
Enablers
The Joi Ito Category.
(Is there anyone else?)
May 06, 2005
Podcast Friday
A series of Pod Poems for your evening enjoyment...
Poem #1 - Weblog Therapy
Poem #2 - Swallow
Poem #3 - Sea Breeze
Poem #1 - Weblog Therapy
Poem #2 - Swallow
Poem #3 - Sea Breeze
JS-MSM
I talked to the writer from the Minnesota Women's Press about a month ago. She was asking about women and blogging for an article she was writing. The resulting article is here. She got details about me wrong, and I think I sound like a goofball in the begining (doing what she does for a living, I know the difference between making someone's quotes sound better and making them sound worse), but I like my ending quote and I think I actually said that.
I was talking about my blog brothers.
I couldn't exactly say this to her:
That would have been a really long quote.
.
I was talking about my blog brothers.
I couldn't exactly say this to her:
I like it when I get time to write. Write what I want. Here. Not what I get paid to write. Out there.
I remember when we used to finish one another's ideas. Here. A few years back. My favorite thing was to bake words with my blog brothers. That was then, before blogging required that every post be a well-formulated thesis--an entity in and of itself--flawless and final in it's daily decree for the masses to imbibe and link to. That was before pundits mattered.
Then, we jammed some. I might throw out an idea. Half baked. Not baked. Raw. Uncooked. Kind of embarrassing, but all our asses were hanging out anyway. Who cares. And someone would grab it. Gary often. And he'd throw in a handfull of chocolate chips, or he'd mean to anyway, but usually it was coffee beans. Gary was never good at telling those things apart. And then Mike would go off on the thing. And I mean off. Just off and run with it. Jesus. For the love. He would ramble and gamble and put in "print" things that'd make us say, mostly, "Oooooo. Eeeeeks." And how the hell are we supposed to download that, freak? Then Frank, you know, he'd toy with Mike, usually with a joyful zest, but Frank, man, you don't know, he can go off, you just don't see it much, well more now than then. Frank, he'd take it and recap the ingredients so far and then flip the thing right over. Just turn it over. Til you said, OH, I thought it was a pancake, but it's a bison burger! HA! where's my syrup? So Tom would come along, and by crap if he didn't take the damn burger and mold it into the finest fucking filet you've ever seen--and we're going, "Shit, we made this pancake-burger and look at Tom's filet with all that red juice, see he did it again." At which point Marek would walk in and just sit down on that piece of meat. I mean just sit the hell down on it as if he were planting his behind in a leather-backed office chair. As if that's what you do every single day with a fine piece of filet--you just sit your ass on it. And if we were all truly blessed that day, Rageboy would rouse himself long enough to come fuck up the whole works by using the creation as high-gloss latex paint, not as food at all, and we'd go--HA! It's all colors now! And then we'd start all over looking at the entire room, not just the frying pan.
My blog brothers. We made lots of things together out of posts back then.
That would have been a really long quote.
.
The Business of Shelley
Touched by an angel--or a burning bird--I have been fortunate enough to have Shelley Powers doing the redesign for the Sessum homepage. Right now it lives here on Shelley's server. But it should be uploaded soon to our world at sessum.com or gesproductions.com -- depending on how much you feel like typing.
It has been a pleasure to work with Shelley and see our world the way she sees it. The sessum world, as you can see, is a multi-linked place and it has been a hard one for me to organize. I think Shelley's simple, organized, yet elegant design brings structure and light (love the halftone look) to our scattered homes on the web.
Thanks Shelley for everything!
It has been a pleasure to work with Shelley and see our world the way she sees it. The sessum world, as you can see, is a multi-linked place and it has been a hard one for me to organize. I think Shelley's simple, organized, yet elegant design brings structure and light (love the halftone look) to our scattered homes on the web.
Thanks Shelley for everything!
May 05, 2005
Why the Good Lord Gave Us Servers
To stick Chris Rock's Ass Beating video clip on, which has been going around by email in all it's hysterical and multi-meg glory.
What? I had to keep it someplace safe.
What? I had to keep it someplace safe.
Happy To Report...
That the original viral (think mad cow) bovineunite.com site was not the brainchild of Chick-fil-a, as I had anticipated, but instead, of the Maryland State Lottery, or an agency thereof. Tonight this intro page went up.
WTF?
I'm like ready to mooooove to MD.
WTF?
I'm like ready to mooooove to MD.
A Standing O.
Mega kudos for new beta and startup Simply Hired. Search results were on target for writing jobs around here. The blog is nicely done. They're adding features at the speed of Flickr. They've even got a LinkedIn connection for weaving that web of influence. Now THAT'S making use of a social network.
They even have personality:
And while our code reviews may have all the tenderness of an alien probe on your favorite South Park character, we manage to get along with each other pretty well. In fact, we enjoy playing practical jokes around the office with such enthusiasm and regularity that our HR department operates pretty much in a continual state of abject terror.
My My. I'm begining to feel all dot-comish this month. There's a lot of this new energy zipping across the net. It's a beautiful thing.
Thanks, Ev.
Only sorta naked -- you'll thank me later
Proud to be among the panelists for blogHer's personal bloggers' panel. I remembered saying something I liked about blogging naked, so I searched my archives. This was a good one from 2003.
There is, it seems, a constant undercurrent of rumination in the blogworld over how much we say about ourselves, how much we tell, what we show, how far we go, what we don’t disclose, what we hide, where we pull up.
In other words: how public should we be?
I’m noted for being a blogger who’s pretty public, open, honest. I think I am. I hope so, because practicing being real in my blogging has helped me become moreso in my offline life… One feeds the other. I gain insight from the things I say here, insight that helps me be more real with myself.
My archives are testimony to me, they are me looking into my own rear view mirror, thinking things like: “What was I THINKING?” or “Wow, yes, it was like that,” or “I can’t believe I wrote that out loud…How many people read it?” The pattern of re-examination informs me. I grow because of it.
I think too many bloggers get trapped in a catch-22 over self-exposure, though. They start out with a few self-telling, honest, often painful posts, and suddenly put pressure on themselves to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth in all manner of all things on their blogs. Some of us who tend toward very public expression of very private places begin to feel an unreasonable responsibility for 24/7 exposure. Even begin to resent blogging. And who wouldn’t.
Perhaps pure-personal-truth-telling can be sustained, but does it need to be? Who puts the pressure on—-our readers or ourselves?
Unless we’re going to live here, naked, all of us, with a real time voice recording of the goings on inside our heads and hearts, we can’t sustain the open-wound model. And we shouldn’t have to.
At the same time, I’ve cycled through the next part of the honesty phase many times. The next phase is where I pull up. Don’t really have anything to say. Start thinking of deep dark secrets to reveal because the need to name and share these things is still present, but I’ve already told you most of what I want to tell you about the place I’m in.
Generally from there, I gravitate toward humor and absurdity, because that is a universal language. And even in those things, my state of mind is revealed to you.
We don’t need to share everything, you and I.
The important part for me is not writing about those edgy, private, risky places. It’s writing from those places. I have said that before. When deeply personal and volatile things—-real or imagined—-are going on in my life, my inclination is to share them here. But not always. What I do, when life issues are too close to the bone to share, is use the energy and passion and, yes, even panic and pain, to drive what I write here.
You see, so, it’s not writing about the events, it’s letting the associated emotions wash over you, digging down into them, and then writing from that place. Stepping down, as Cixous would say.
So maybe this post is my way of saying to those who have been wondering whether or not they’ve gone too far--those who are anxious about what they’ve written, not written, who knows, who doesn’t—-that you can use that very angst to power your writing. Even when you’re not writing about your current state of mind and heart, we can feel when you’re writing from it. Every single time.
Well, that’s how I do it. Or try to.
May 04, 2005
Outsource to Hamsters
Here's the thing about our hamsters--they work all night. While we sleep, they run the wheel, carry bedding from one place to another, pee outside the cage, and then get back on the wheel and run some more. I was just falling asleep typing and I thought, man, if I could give m hamsters a little analysis capability, we would make the perfect team--like connect their wheel to a keyboard and teach them (by zapping when incorrect--hell what do I care the bitch ate 13 babies) how to type often used phrases over and over again. They could easily seque into a career as a Spam Hamster, making money as they go. Spamsters for short. This new breed--we could engineer them to be perfect at what they do. While we sleep, the Spamsters use their wheel time to spin spam blogs out like butter.
i think it can work. I am half alseep. My eyes are closed. You should know that.
i think it can work. I am half alseep. My eyes are closed. You should know that.
lucid
I had to drive to a client meeting today that was all the way up toward Cumming, which, if you know where kennesaw is, well then you know that is a bottom-line stinky commute, picturing the Pepridge Farm man saying, "You can't get there from hea." And I'm driving and driving and thinking and mostly looking for landmarks in Alpharetta, which, if you know anything about Alpharetta and me, you'd know that the place scares me. Not because it's a "bad area" but because it's a baaaad area. It's affluent and well kept and actually perfect, except that it feels tenuous and not real and like the dead people are just under the roots of the grass waiting to spring to life and eat you like a hamster baby.
That's how Alpharetta feels to me.
I ate a jalapeno cheese burger at sonic. Okay, it rocked pretty well but it was $3.29. And I ran all day and not til 8 did I get to eat dinner, which was a Checker's burger George brought me, which only cost like a buck and tasted better than the Sonic burger.
So that was pretty much my day. It included too much meat and a long drive through a pretend town.
That's how Alpharetta feels to me.
I ate a jalapeno cheese burger at sonic. Okay, it rocked pretty well but it was $3.29. And I ran all day and not til 8 did I get to eat dinner, which was a Checker's burger George brought me, which only cost like a buck and tasted better than the Sonic burger.
So that was pretty much my day. It included too much meat and a long drive through a pretend town.
Brain Closed for Maintenance
Too many ideas. Blew a circuit. Called the head janitor. Kombinat has 24 hour support. I should be up and running shortly.
May 03, 2005
J. Maybe Elvis Downsized By New Pope...
Takes Helm at Kombinat!, the world's first public domain corporation. Allied to help with PR strategy and tactics at Kombinat! - using the patented "First 100 Days of a CEO" quickstart executive blitz learned during Sessum's days at The Agency to help Elvis transition into his new role.
During the first 100 days, Elvis plans to: "basically implement our growth strategies across the entire global business landscape blah blah blah."
###
During the first 100 days, Elvis plans to: "basically implement our growth strategies across the entire global business landscape blah blah blah."
May 02, 2005
May 01, 2005
April 30, 2005
Oooops, she did it again.
No, she hasn't eaten them, but she has HAD a new litter. She took to her nest about four days ago, and I glimpsed some pink in there yesterday. We are all holding our breath and walking on eggshells. George jokes around in the kitchen--"Somebody sneezes in this house and the hamster's like..." [he mimics Coco devouring her babies]. I say, "Stop it--she's just being, what do the call it in the hamster forums?--"merciful."
blahahaha.
Hopefully this time Coco had all the pre-planning required to refrain from eating her young.
I told ya'll what Jenna said after viewing the carnage first hand, right?
"Wshew. At least I'm not a hamster baby."
Amen.
Exile
Sometimes a place leaves you when you are standing in the middle of it. Exile is something like that.
Pod Poetry #3: Exile 1 and 2
Pod Poetry #3: Exile 1 and 2
boy children
I have a friend who has a baby boy. He is the sun and the moon and the stars. I was there for his birth. I watched him come into the world, full of boy and life and piss and vinegar, and eyes for his mother the likes of which I have never seen. His was the kind of birth I wish I had been able to endure instead of my epidural+c-section version. I am not complaining, no, I am blessed. My sweet sweet Jenna. I am not complaining, but I am grieving, and there is a difference.
In taking two growing, giggling girls to Chuck-E-Cheese tonight, I watched dozens and dozens of children pass by and through and around.
Without knowing what I was doing, I started watching the boy children. I have realized, in watching my friend's son grow and thrive over the past eight months, that boy children and mothers have a whole different thing going on.
Boy children are different, approach things in a way unfamiliar to me, observe in a way that is not better, not worse than girl children--but different. Special. They smell differently, move differently, have learned to manipulate differently--covert and effortless. George remarked to me once, "It takes a lot to grow a man." I thought, that's a man's perspective--of course. It takes so much to raise children in these times, period. But lately I've been watching. I've been watching adult men and how they think, act, behave toward women. I've been watching boy children, how they perceive, calculate, process. And I wonder at the process as a mother that moves them from boys into men.
So I watch these Chuck E. Cheese boy children move, grab tickets, pull friends by the elbows. I watch the beige boys especially, the ones that could be ours--who look like Jenna's brothers--I catch their eye, smile, nod my head, some odd woman in a booth by herself, and they look back as if to say, "oh, ma."
Since my surgery three weeks ago, I am accepting the fact that I can't have anymore children. Chances are, it would have been a disaster had I tried before the surgery. Then again, it might have been fine. No way to tell according to the doctors. And so I wasn't going to. We were done, really. We both knew. The last thing we could handle would be another child. But deciding and having decided are different altogether.
And so I think and I wonder and then I let it go. And it catches me sometimes by surprise. We are so so so amazed by and in love with our daughter. She is life.
And at the same time, I grieve for the son I will never have, miss him. I have lost him, I have lost my father again in the lost son I can no longer grow inside of me, and that is what the tears were for, me looking rediculous, tears quiety running down my cheeks, in the booth, by myself, among joyous children playing, my own daughter laughing, having the time of her life, at Chuck-E-Cheese tonight.
In taking two growing, giggling girls to Chuck-E-Cheese tonight, I watched dozens and dozens of children pass by and through and around.
Without knowing what I was doing, I started watching the boy children. I have realized, in watching my friend's son grow and thrive over the past eight months, that boy children and mothers have a whole different thing going on.
Boy children are different, approach things in a way unfamiliar to me, observe in a way that is not better, not worse than girl children--but different. Special. They smell differently, move differently, have learned to manipulate differently--covert and effortless. George remarked to me once, "It takes a lot to grow a man." I thought, that's a man's perspective--of course. It takes so much to raise children in these times, period. But lately I've been watching. I've been watching adult men and how they think, act, behave toward women. I've been watching boy children, how they perceive, calculate, process. And I wonder at the process as a mother that moves them from boys into men.
So I watch these Chuck E. Cheese boy children move, grab tickets, pull friends by the elbows. I watch the beige boys especially, the ones that could be ours--who look like Jenna's brothers--I catch their eye, smile, nod my head, some odd woman in a booth by herself, and they look back as if to say, "oh, ma."
Since my surgery three weeks ago, I am accepting the fact that I can't have anymore children. Chances are, it would have been a disaster had I tried before the surgery. Then again, it might have been fine. No way to tell according to the doctors. And so I wasn't going to. We were done, really. We both knew. The last thing we could handle would be another child. But deciding and having decided are different altogether.
And so I think and I wonder and then I let it go. And it catches me sometimes by surprise. We are so so so amazed by and in love with our daughter. She is life.
And at the same time, I grieve for the son I will never have, miss him. I have lost him, I have lost my father again in the lost son I can no longer grow inside of me, and that is what the tears were for, me looking rediculous, tears quiety running down my cheeks, in the booth, by myself, among joyous children playing, my own daughter laughing, having the time of her life, at Chuck-E-Cheese tonight.
April 29, 2005
Pod Poetry
Okay, McD and Ray and others. You convinced me to give it a try.
First up, a poem I wrote for Mr. Kombinat!, Marek J., back in the day when a poem was a fitting birthday present. Hence the title: 1 a.m. Birthday Poem for Marek.
First up, a poem I wrote for Mr. Kombinat!, Marek J., back in the day when a poem was a fitting birthday present. Hence the title: 1 a.m. Birthday Poem for Marek.
Spellcheck
Pitchstone.
Guess the term for which this is the suggested correct spelling via Blogger.com's spellchecker...
(i'll put the answer in comments)
Guess the term for which this is the suggested correct spelling via Blogger.com's spellchecker...
(i'll put the answer in comments)
What I now think about podcasting - 1/4 of the way in.
I've got my iRiver. I've read any number (lots) of articles and posts on podcasting. I could be up and running with a professional sound (with my new iRiver and what George has in his studio) in a few hours. But I'll probably stick with simple on-the-go recording for now. The iRiver's built-in mic has surprisingly great sound recording capabilities.
I think I understand the genesis and the conflicts around the Podcasting the concept, the term, and the technologies that support the medium--at least from a historical (like six months) perspective.
Now onto what I believe.
It could have been called mp3casting, but that would have sounded weird.
Because Podcasting doesn't require an iPod per-se; any mp3 player will do. Podcasting does NOT require RSS. Subscribing to podcasts does. In other words, ANY mp3 file that in some form mimics broadcast is, to most users who are downloading, a podcast. It's the name they like. It's so, well, "blogging."
If I, for example, have an mp3 file I want to make available--i.e., broadcast, I can do this in several ways. (1) I can have a weblog setup with an RSS 2.0 feed (Blogger makes this easy), make my feed available to bloglines or others, and people who wish to can subscribe to my podblog and get convenient/automatic downloads. You can sleep while technology makes sure you get the latest podcasts loaded onto your MP3 player for morning drivetime.
(2) While RSS makes podcast RECEIVING easy and seamless, it's not the only way to listen to your favorite Pod Personalities. And a burgeoning base of corporate fans are listening to podcasts on their PCs by, well, CLICKING ON THE LINK within the weblog. (3) And for those podcast surfers, who might find one or two podcasts worth downloading, you can usually save the file down and copy it onto your MP3 player via a USB connection.
So what's really new here?
Not much and everything at the same time.
What is new is the perception. The perception of many companies and individuals is that podcasting is the next weblogging. It's the next big thing. It's a must-do.
And so, it is. Thanks to a catchy name, some quirky talented new-era broadcasters who've been living online for a while, Adam Curry, Dave Winer, and the whole technology debating team, as well as the ability of the masses to subscribe to podcasts for easy downloading, podcasting really is the new big thing.
My prediction? It's about channels--it's about getting what you want from the net in the way that's most convenient/relevant for you at the time. If that means clicking a link and listening on your PC at work, then you're listening to a podcast. If it means you download podcasts from 16 blogs you subscribe to every night, then you're downloading podcasts.
In six months, the podcasting "brand" will likely refer to the program format (i.e., anything that resembles a radio broadcast will be called podcasting) NOT how the program is delivered (i.e., currently any mp3 file made available through an RSS 2.0 feed in a weblog can be delivered to subscribers). In six months, an interview on Microsoft's site between Bill Gates and Scoble (it could happen!) will be called a podcast, even if it's simply an mp3 file sitting on a server and linked off Microsoft's homepage for anyone wanting to click the link.
And that's okay. It evokes the same debate we've been having for years in blogland: "What is blogging." Some say its community. Some say its journalism. Some say it's just writing.
So what will podcasting be? Some will say its personal radio. Some will say its broadcast journalism. Some will say it's just mp3 files.
And, just like with blogging, we'll all be right.
I think I understand the genesis and the conflicts around the Podcasting the concept, the term, and the technologies that support the medium--at least from a historical (like six months) perspective.
Now onto what I believe.
It could have been called mp3casting, but that would have sounded weird.
Because Podcasting doesn't require an iPod per-se; any mp3 player will do. Podcasting does NOT require RSS. Subscribing to podcasts does. In other words, ANY mp3 file that in some form mimics broadcast is, to most users who are downloading, a podcast. It's the name they like. It's so, well, "blogging."
If I, for example, have an mp3 file I want to make available--i.e., broadcast, I can do this in several ways. (1) I can have a weblog setup with an RSS 2.0 feed (Blogger makes this easy), make my feed available to bloglines or others, and people who wish to can subscribe to my podblog and get convenient/automatic downloads. You can sleep while technology makes sure you get the latest podcasts loaded onto your MP3 player for morning drivetime.
(2) While RSS makes podcast RECEIVING easy and seamless, it's not the only way to listen to your favorite Pod Personalities. And a burgeoning base of corporate fans are listening to podcasts on their PCs by, well, CLICKING ON THE LINK within the weblog. (3) And for those podcast surfers, who might find one or two podcasts worth downloading, you can usually save the file down and copy it onto your MP3 player via a USB connection.
So what's really new here?
Not much and everything at the same time.
What is new is the perception. The perception of many companies and individuals is that podcasting is the next weblogging. It's the next big thing. It's a must-do.
And so, it is. Thanks to a catchy name, some quirky talented new-era broadcasters who've been living online for a while, Adam Curry, Dave Winer, and the whole technology debating team, as well as the ability of the masses to subscribe to podcasts for easy downloading, podcasting really is the new big thing.
My prediction? It's about channels--it's about getting what you want from the net in the way that's most convenient/relevant for you at the time. If that means clicking a link and listening on your PC at work, then you're listening to a podcast. If it means you download podcasts from 16 blogs you subscribe to every night, then you're downloading podcasts.
In six months, the podcasting "brand" will likely refer to the program format (i.e., anything that resembles a radio broadcast will be called podcasting) NOT how the program is delivered (i.e., currently any mp3 file made available through an RSS 2.0 feed in a weblog can be delivered to subscribers). In six months, an interview on Microsoft's site between Bill Gates and Scoble (it could happen!) will be called a podcast, even if it's simply an mp3 file sitting on a server and linked off Microsoft's homepage for anyone wanting to click the link.
And that's okay. It evokes the same debate we've been having for years in blogland: "What is blogging." Some say its community. Some say its journalism. Some say it's just writing.
So what will podcasting be? Some will say its personal radio. Some will say its broadcast journalism. Some will say it's just mp3 files.
And, just like with blogging, we'll all be right.
April 28, 2005
New post on podstreet...
New post over on PodStreet featuring this initial podcast where upon george and I stare a lot at and generally fiddle with my new iRiver iFP-799.
Amazing.
Amazing.
April 27, 2005
always
If you were appointed dictionary Czar for the day, and you could remove one word -- and one word only -- from the language, strike it from the dictionary, and wipe it clean away, which word would you choose?
I was thinking about this, after finishing some Ramen Pride horrible, salterific, substitute-for-real-food dinner. And I decided on "always."
Always is frequently (not always) misleading. Cloaked in connotations of security and timelessness, of the endless forever of time, always is basically a crock.
There is no forever, no until the end of time, no fairness in things, no lasting.
When I was growing up, I believed with all my heart -- and had it reinforced by my family -- that when I grew bigger and older, my mother in turn would grow littler and younger. I thought, in essense, we would trade places.
How well I understood my enmeshment. Not.
I should have seen through the facade. If not me, then who? I watched my father die, I watched him shrink and disappear before my eyes. And yet, I grabbed onto the the "when you get little and I get big" myth with all I had.
"When you get little and I get big," I'm going to wear as much makeup as I want.
"When you get little and I get big," I'll stay up as late as I want and put you to bed at 7:00.
Like that.
And it's sort of true--as we grow, our parents shrink, the ones who aren't larger than life that is.
So, it wasn't really a lie. Not really denial. Misconception maybe. Not stupid though. Resourceful actually. The realities we construct to make sense of things, or perish.
Except that I believed it literally.
I believed in always and forever.
I believed in the justice of the ebb and the flow, the fairness of life, -- the smallness, not the disappearance. The leaving and the coming back.
The losing without the loss.
I really thought when I grew up, life would flip. Would turn upside down. Would reverse what had taken place.
There would be some grand scale of justice.
Some just desert.
Sense would be made of the unfairness and I would make it.
And the world made right would last.
No more surprises.
No more bad news.
I thought that there would always be always.
I was thinking about this, after finishing some Ramen Pride horrible, salterific, substitute-for-real-food dinner. And I decided on "always."
Always is frequently (not always) misleading. Cloaked in connotations of security and timelessness, of the endless forever of time, always is basically a crock.
There is no forever, no until the end of time, no fairness in things, no lasting.
When I was growing up, I believed with all my heart -- and had it reinforced by my family -- that when I grew bigger and older, my mother in turn would grow littler and younger. I thought, in essense, we would trade places.
How well I understood my enmeshment. Not.
I should have seen through the facade. If not me, then who? I watched my father die, I watched him shrink and disappear before my eyes. And yet, I grabbed onto the the "when you get little and I get big" myth with all I had.
"When you get little and I get big," I'm going to wear as much makeup as I want.
"When you get little and I get big," I'll stay up as late as I want and put you to bed at 7:00.
Like that.
And it's sort of true--as we grow, our parents shrink, the ones who aren't larger than life that is.
So, it wasn't really a lie. Not really denial. Misconception maybe. Not stupid though. Resourceful actually. The realities we construct to make sense of things, or perish.
Except that I believed it literally.
I believed in always and forever.
I believed in the justice of the ebb and the flow, the fairness of life, -- the smallness, not the disappearance. The leaving and the coming back.
The losing without the loss.
I really thought when I grew up, life would flip. Would turn upside down. Would reverse what had taken place.
There would be some grand scale of justice.
Some just desert.
Sense would be made of the unfairness and I would make it.
And the world made right would last.
No more surprises.
No more bad news.
I thought that there would always be always.
April 26, 2005
Awe Jeez...
PLANE DIVERTED AFTER MAN WITH MP3 PLAYER, LAPTOP WIRES...
A spokesman for the Transportation Security Administration said two passengers reported that another one appeared suspicious. The man was carrying two vials of medicine, an MP3 player and wires for his laptop computer, the spokesman said.
Doc, did you make it home okay?
Repeat after me: Podcasting on the plane is not cool.
Who We Are Over Time
Melanie at Chandrasutra, in this post, examined ways to address the issue I raised here:
Melanie has wrestled with this question and in response has developed her own Contextual Introduction to give readers who find her through one of many avenues a better up-front flavor of who she is, and who she isn't.
I like it, as much as an exercise I should put myself through for my own thinking and assessment as a tool for readers to understand what to expect here. I might also link to some of the posts I've written that I feel tell the most about who I am in the context of this blog.
Interesting idea and well done. Now, I wish someone would do it for me, because while I'm full of ideas these days, I'm a bit short on execution........
We really can't extract or create an accurate picture of a weblogger -- what he or she stands for or believes, what kind of voice we can expect as a visitor to this blogger's site -- without factoring in that blogger's unique voice and its evolution over time.
I think expectations today are that each post stands alone.
I think that can't be true.
Melanie has wrestled with this question and in response has developed her own Contextual Introduction to give readers who find her through one of many avenues a better up-front flavor of who she is, and who she isn't.
I like it, as much as an exercise I should put myself through for my own thinking and assessment as a tool for readers to understand what to expect here. I might also link to some of the posts I've written that I feel tell the most about who I am in the context of this blog.
Interesting idea and well done. Now, I wish someone would do it for me, because while I'm full of ideas these days, I'm a bit short on execution........
It's been a long time since a post made me cry.
Jessica at Daughter of Opinion has a moving post that she paints with language-layers of loss and pain and hope. A tear is on my right cheek just now, one that I needed to shed. Thank you, Jessica.
Brave and wonderful.
I watched as they led old people, young people, babies even, down to the black water and into the waiting arms of the preacher. I watched them be dipped backwards, some of them plugging their noses, and I sensed the emotion that seemed to coincide with their emergence from the water - their hair slicked back, their faces shiny with wetness. I watched them take my cousins, all four of them, down one at a time but they never came for me. I remember feeling hurt by this. I remember standing on the rocky bank and thinking that I was not acceptable - simply not good enough - because my mother was sick.
Brave and wonderful.
your favorite corporate weblogs
-Okay, what businesses are doing blogs right?
-What businesses aren't?
-I'm looking for fun, edgey, but not insane. I'm looking for relevant, compelling, topical.
-I'm looking for blogs you've gone back to -- that you've visited more than once.
-Please leave links.
Person with the most relevant links left in my comments gets a $7 amazon gift certificate. Yah, I know, $7 isn't much. Jenna's 7 and I'm broke, so I picked $7.
[[Research assignment ends at 9:00 a.m. US Eastern Time Wednesday (tomorrow) morning.]]
-What businesses aren't?
-I'm looking for fun, edgey, but not insane. I'm looking for relevant, compelling, topical.
-I'm looking for blogs you've gone back to -- that you've visited more than once.
-Please leave links.
Person with the most relevant links left in my comments gets a $7 amazon gift certificate. Yah, I know, $7 isn't much. Jenna's 7 and I'm broke, so I picked $7.
[[Research assignment ends at 9:00 a.m. US Eastern Time Wednesday (tomorrow) morning.]]
What to Tell Young People about Blogging
DON'T EVER START!! (Oh. wait. that's smoking.)
Elaine is going to be on a panel addressing young people and weblogging, at least at some point or another. She wonders what we think she should tell kids about blogging. Leave your comments here and help her out.
Elaine is going to be on a panel addressing young people and weblogging, at least at some point or another. She wonders what we think she should tell kids about blogging. Leave your comments here and help her out.
April 25, 2005
okay I'm too tired
No way am I doing 30 posts tonight. What was I thinking? I planned on 30 and got 2 done.
I think I have to rethink my challenge model. In the old days, 30 in 30 was something to shoot for. Remember when we had the all-night blogothons for--was it charity? I don't even remember. I think I did one. I don't even remember what it was. There were a number of 24 hour post-a-thons in the old days. That's when I got into trying to post 30 posts in 30 minutes. I had wicked fast fingers in those days. Now I think I have carpel tunnel. In those days, I could get 30 posts done consecutively, but it ended up taking me a couple of hours each time.
A post a minute? That ain't happening. I was in my 30s then. I'm in my 40s now. With age comes discretion.
I can't afford a couple of hours right now.
Sleep tight.
I think I have to rethink my challenge model. In the old days, 30 in 30 was something to shoot for. Remember when we had the all-night blogothons for--was it charity? I don't even remember. I think I did one. I don't even remember what it was. There were a number of 24 hour post-a-thons in the old days. That's when I got into trying to post 30 posts in 30 minutes. I had wicked fast fingers in those days. Now I think I have carpel tunnel. In those days, I could get 30 posts done consecutively, but it ended up taking me a couple of hours each time.
A post a minute? That ain't happening. I was in my 30s then. I'm in my 40s now. With age comes discretion.
I can't afford a couple of hours right now.
Sleep tight.
George and Hues
He wouldn't mind me telling you I suppose: George does the laundry in our house. He always has. Except when he's away. And then it's laundry bedlam time.
But the thing is, when George does the laundry, he really DOES the laundry, which involves color sorting by hues. As in, blues/greens go together. Pinks/reds go together. Yellows/oranges go together.
He's not altogether right. But his laundry looks damn good. If my husband were a search engine, you'd find just what you're looking for.
He tells me that hue-sorting is important because the colors come out much brighter this way. He tells me that my way results in a single hue: Grey.
I tell him I shouldn't have to wait three weeks until he gathers enough orange/yellow clothes to get Jenna's yellow ruffled socks back.
When George goes on the road, one thing secretly thrills me: Unlimited access to the laundry room. MY way. My sordid, non-bright, dingy-grey approach that divides dirty clothes into three categories: white, not white, and dark. I don't use softener. I stuff the dryer with two loads of wet wash. I go hog wild.
It's just another thing we do.
But the thing is, when George does the laundry, he really DOES the laundry, which involves color sorting by hues. As in, blues/greens go together. Pinks/reds go together. Yellows/oranges go together.
He's not altogether right. But his laundry looks damn good. If my husband were a search engine, you'd find just what you're looking for.
He tells me that hue-sorting is important because the colors come out much brighter this way. He tells me that my way results in a single hue: Grey.
I tell him I shouldn't have to wait three weeks until he gathers enough orange/yellow clothes to get Jenna's yellow ruffled socks back.
When George goes on the road, one thing secretly thrills me: Unlimited access to the laundry room. MY way. My sordid, non-bright, dingy-grey approach that divides dirty clothes into three categories: white, not white, and dark. I don't use softener. I stuff the dryer with two loads of wet wash. I go hog wild.
It's just another thing we do.
Going In
As relationships online move closer and closer to the individual, each one us, I feel like the next big adventure will be crawling inside your skin. I mean, thanks to having met you here, and having met some of you in the flesh, I've already gotten skin close. I've gotten to know more about you than you ever thought you'd tell me. So, next, you know, I want to know you molecularly. What is your blood pressure? Pulse? What if I crawl into your eye sockets--will you let me? And once I'm in there, can I post as you? It's a square dance. We'll all move over one node on the network and take it over. You become me become him become her.
I think it has possibilities.
I think it has possibilities.
To force myself
The old 30 posts in 30 minutes challenge that I've issued myself and never met over the years at least does one thing: forces me out, or in as the case may be.
So here goes nothing.
So here goes nothing.
We Just Keep Gettin' It On
Get Your War On's hodgepodge from 4/21 is simply... well just go there. Tragically funny as anything. Tragically funnier than most things.
Gotta put the book on my wish list.
Gotta put the book on my wish list.
friends
Heard this today and remembered hearing it back then. Mmmm.
I hope the day will be a lighter highway
For friends are found on every road
Can you ever think of any better way
For the lost and weary travellers to go
Making friends for the world to see
Let the people know you got what you need
With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right
It seems to me a crime that we should age
These fragile times should never slip us by
A time you never can or shall erase
As friends together watch their childhood fly
Friends
Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin
From the soundtrack Friends
I hope the day will be a lighter highway
For friends are found on every road
Can you ever think of any better way
For the lost and weary travellers to go
Making friends for the world to see
Let the people know you got what you need
With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right
It seems to me a crime that we should age
These fragile times should never slip us by
A time you never can or shall erase
As friends together watch their childhood fly
Friends
Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin
From the soundtrack Friends
How do you know when things are accelerating online?
Me? I know when I'm suddenly posting in too many places at once, and my personality, usually so well-defined and dogmatic in its certainty, splinters into a million different parts.
It doesn't hurt when that happens, but I hear from a friend that vicoprofen rocks. So maybe I should say it does hurt.
In fact it hurts very badly.
Maybe some doctor will wishlist me a bottle of vicoprofen.
Because I do have a bad right shoulder.
And regular ibuprofen doesn't work so well anymore.
But a hit of vicodin would be worth a looksie.
You know what else? My kid's a riot. "OH THE WAY THAT YOU SEEEE...." for oh say can you see. I love it.
So what's new in your world?
It doesn't hurt when that happens, but I hear from a friend that vicoprofen rocks. So maybe I should say it does hurt.
In fact it hurts very badly.
Maybe some doctor will wishlist me a bottle of vicoprofen.
Because I do have a bad right shoulder.
And regular ibuprofen doesn't work so well anymore.
But a hit of vicodin would be worth a looksie.
You know what else? My kid's a riot. "OH THE WAY THAT YOU SEEEE...." for oh say can you see. I love it.
So what's new in your world?
I feel a shiver run up my spine
Oo, I hear laughter in the rain
Walking hand in hand with the one I love
Oo, how I love the rainy days
And the happy way I feel inside
Click the foto. Please.
Okay.
Scared.
Narrow Casting via Pod Casting?
With the ability for RSS 2.0 and, I guess eventually other syndication tools, to grab mp3s enclosed in a post and deliver them to the device of our choice, "broadcasting" may not be the only -- or the most compelling -- model for audio and business.
Narrowcasting - me to you through audio content - maybe hold even more possibilities.
I'm working on a statement of work right now for an existing client who needs a flash script. Can I tell you how much I hate statements of work? But they put necessary structure around the client/vendor relationship. They serve a purpose. Among other things, they are a textual handshake around specific parameters of a project.
For most companies, there is a whole process around getting to that handshake. And beyond the handshake, of course, client/provider communications exist across the entire specrum of the client relationship.
So with podcasting on my brain, I'm thinking, I wish I didn't have to WRITE all of this and confine it to a template that only tells part of the story. (Mind you, I'm a writer, so if I'm bucking the textual system around content, then the sky's the limit.)
And I'm thinking, what if I could narrowcast communications via this same technology to individual clients.
So instead of organizing the Statement of Work by deliverable, I can literally talk to the client about the project and deliver the audio drafts of the SOW to some extranet/intranet spot where we BOTH talk back and forth about expectations and deliverables. With With Podscope and audio search technologies, the structure of audio content is even searchable.
"Tim, you said you wanted us to handle the art direction too--it's in the signed SOW." [Signed SOW hyperlinks to the spot in the audio SOW discussion where Tim The Client says, "I want you guys to handle the art direction."]
Hard to argue with that, eh?
What about delivering a proposal this way. What about proposals and RFP responses that are STORIES, not boring copycat documents of everything that came before them.
What if we interview our happy existing clients, for whom we've done similar work, and include their audio stories in our narrow-podcast mp3 deliverables. What would it mean if I interviewed David Weinberger on the importance of creating content a conversation with your customers, and I include that interview as a podcasted attachment to a written RFP; i.e., demonstrating the power of voice through voice.
I don't know. I'm mixing and melding existing client relationships with prospective ones here, but either way, the ability to seamlessly deliver audio from my desktop to the preferred devices of my clients/prospects has me excited.
I can see the use for narrowcasting in terms of letting prospects know WHO I AM AND WHAT I'M ABOUT before I spend much physical time with them, and in terms of carrying relationships of multi-dimensional communications forward (in-person, copy/text, recorded audio) with existing clients.
Just some thoughts to get my brain going this morning.
Narrowcasting - me to you through audio content - maybe hold even more possibilities.
I'm working on a statement of work right now for an existing client who needs a flash script. Can I tell you how much I hate statements of work? But they put necessary structure around the client/vendor relationship. They serve a purpose. Among other things, they are a textual handshake around specific parameters of a project.
For most companies, there is a whole process around getting to that handshake. And beyond the handshake, of course, client/provider communications exist across the entire specrum of the client relationship.
So with podcasting on my brain, I'm thinking, I wish I didn't have to WRITE all of this and confine it to a template that only tells part of the story. (Mind you, I'm a writer, so if I'm bucking the textual system around content, then the sky's the limit.)
And I'm thinking, what if I could narrowcast communications via this same technology to individual clients.
So instead of organizing the Statement of Work by deliverable, I can literally talk to the client about the project and deliver the audio drafts of the SOW to some extranet/intranet spot where we BOTH talk back and forth about expectations and deliverables. With With Podscope and audio search technologies, the structure of audio content is even searchable.
"Tim, you said you wanted us to handle the art direction too--it's in the signed SOW." [Signed SOW hyperlinks to the spot in the audio SOW discussion where Tim The Client says, "I want you guys to handle the art direction."]
Hard to argue with that, eh?
What about delivering a proposal this way. What about proposals and RFP responses that are STORIES, not boring copycat documents of everything that came before them.
What if we interview our happy existing clients, for whom we've done similar work, and include their audio stories in our narrow-podcast mp3 deliverables. What would it mean if I interviewed David Weinberger on the importance of creating content a conversation with your customers, and I include that interview as a podcasted attachment to a written RFP; i.e., demonstrating the power of voice through voice.
I don't know. I'm mixing and melding existing client relationships with prospective ones here, but either way, the ability to seamlessly deliver audio from my desktop to the preferred devices of my clients/prospects has me excited.
I can see the use for narrowcasting in terms of letting prospects know WHO I AM AND WHAT I'M ABOUT before I spend much physical time with them, and in terms of carrying relationships of multi-dimensional communications forward (in-person, copy/text, recorded audio) with existing clients.
Just some thoughts to get my brain going this morning.
April 24, 2005
I hadn't heard.
Robert Creeley Died April 5th.
He was my poetry teacher at the University of Buffalo, and in his unteaching, taught me more about my own fear than anyone.
He was the teacher I ran from.
And I've almost stopped running.
Just in time to say, Goodbye.
business week launches a weblog
Here. They'll have to run fast to catch up, but it looks like they're up to the challenge. Doc points to the BizWeek article on weblogs here.
There really is too much reading to do now in the blog circle.
I'm looking forward to voice taking on part of the job through podcasting so that I can bring the spoken word with me when I'm away from the laptop.
There really is too much reading to do now in the blog circle.
I'm looking forward to voice taking on part of the job through podcasting so that I can bring the spoken word with me when I'm away from the laptop.
pod posting
Well, I'm not pod CASTING yet, because my iRiver hasn't arrived yet. And, I'm still not sure what I'm doing. Or going to do. Not sure of anything much.
Put I am pod posting--writing posts over on podstreet.
Put I am pod posting--writing posts over on podstreet.
April 23, 2005
Hold the Pickles Hold the Lettuce
I already forgot my phone conversation with Uncle Rage in the car today. He invented two things. I remember the first one. As Jenna and I sat at the Sonic drive in stand, he mentioned that the Marburger might taste nice.
Marburger!?
I nearly fell out of the car. Marburger.
That's McDonald's latest, right? Big and Tasty and So Much More: the new Marburger--you'll never feel hungry again!
I want mine well done--no make that rare--no wait, raw.
You want flies with that?
And while you're at it, Super Size me.
Hey, Chris, I hear their coffee packs a wallop too.
For the life of me, I can't remember what our second phone jam was about.... But we talked a bunch about podcasting, and I wished I could have been casting right from sonic with my cell phone.
Marburger!?
I nearly fell out of the car. Marburger.
That's McDonald's latest, right? Big and Tasty and So Much More: the new Marburger--you'll never feel hungry again!
I want mine well done--no make that rare--no wait, raw.
You want flies with that?
And while you're at it, Super Size me.
Hey, Chris, I hear their coffee packs a wallop too.
For the life of me, I can't remember what our second phone jam was about.... But we talked a bunch about podcasting, and I wished I could have been casting right from sonic with my cell phone.
Daddy's Spanking
A wonderful post at Culture Kitchen about the USian public's proclivity toward the threat and power of the strong male hand.
Read it.
I find myself wondering if America doesn't long for Daddy's spank. So many people bemoan the loss of order in this culture: the hard, unyielding discipline meted out by daddy, the kind that scared us, the kind that made us behave ourselves for fear of getting into trouble. In the last forty years, things have been more fluid, more yielding, more liquid, and increasingly, covered by the mucus of borderlessness, some in our culture seem genuinely grossed out. Female bodies are icky for some, and perhaps they feel as if they've been living inside a cunt. The shapeless feminine.
Read it.
Getting to Know All About You.
As writers, weblogging over time presents a unique quandry: How do we write sequentially in a way that is relevant to both first-time readers and long-time regulars. There are three groups of people who come here: first-timers/happen-to-wind-up-here folks, the I've-read-you-on-and-off-for-a-while-now folks, and the I-started-when-you-did folks. Each of these groups has a different context in which they understand me and what I write.
There are times when I know that I've written a post that, had I just happened upon my own blog as an outsider, would lead me to think I was a.) a jerk, b.) lame or c.) a genius. Of course, none of these things are completely accurate.
We really can't extract or create an accurate picture of a weblogger -- what he or she stands for or believes, what kind of voice we can expect as a visitor to this blogger's site -- without factoring in that blogger's unique voice and its evolution over time.
I think expectations today are that each post stands alone.
I think that can't be true.
I say this because yesterday I wanted to say:
read me.
read all of me.
don't stop reading me until you know me.
know me.
know all of me.
don't stop knowing me until I know you.
I guess my point is that I don't come here to be entertained, to read an author as I would read a novel or a piece of non-fiction.
I come here to read and understand what you say within the context of your life, your experiences.
I come here to know you.
As much as you will tell me.
That's why I first came.
That's why I still come.
There are times when I know that I've written a post that, had I just happened upon my own blog as an outsider, would lead me to think I was a.) a jerk, b.) lame or c.) a genius. Of course, none of these things are completely accurate.
We really can't extract or create an accurate picture of a weblogger -- what he or she stands for or believes, what kind of voice we can expect as a visitor to this blogger's site -- without factoring in that blogger's unique voice and its evolution over time.
I think expectations today are that each post stands alone.
I think that can't be true.
I say this because yesterday I wanted to say:
read me.
read all of me.
don't stop reading me until you know me.
know me.
know all of me.
don't stop knowing me until I know you.
I guess my point is that I don't come here to be entertained, to read an author as I would read a novel or a piece of non-fiction.
I come here to read and understand what you say within the context of your life, your experiences.
I come here to know you.
As much as you will tell me.
That's why I first came.
That's why I still come.
April 22, 2005
Pod Questioning
More questions over at Pod Street. Thank you all for your lightning quick answers. Even time for passionate exchanges.
Odiferous Evening
I have been remiss in not posting about the night before last. Consider it my way of recovering.
I arrived in my subdivision Wednesday evening about 8:30 from my cherished therapy appointment to be greeted with a strong--and I mean strong--repulsive odor that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
It got worse and worse as I neared our driveway. Worse still when I pulled in the driveway. The gag reflex was in full gear by the time I hit the garage door opener. To my complete horror, the smell was INSIDE too.
Jenna, who had been with a sitter, met me at the downstairs door: MOM! It's the hamsters! They smell terrible!"
Racing thoughts: Undiscovered, rotten hamster baby corpses? Odor-reducing food not working? No. Wait. I wouldn't have smelled the odor outside if it were the hamsters.
Perplexed. Climbing the stairs. Sitter racing from the house--"I'm sure it's not your house, dear--it is a smell in the neighborhoood--someone burning or something." Trips down the stairs in her rush.
"Be careful now!" = Byebye nice sitter. Will you ever come back? I loved you.
Back to the smell.
I called our next door neighbor to see if he smelled it. No answer. Called the other-side neighbor to see if they smelled it. No answer.
They must be dead. Thought #2: Bio-terrorism.
Look out the window: Cars are passing by. Turn on the TV. No emergency broadcast system. Okay. So it's not the end of the world, so to speak.
Think think think.
Maybe it's gas--it does have that rotten egg smell. In which case, a gas leak is dangerous. Don't touch any light switches.
It's 9:30 when I decide to call the gas company to come investigate--make sure we're not about to be blown off the map. They get here around 10:00, and I meet the gas man outside.
"WSHEW!" he says. "I smelled this coming down the road--I've never smelled anything like it before, but I can tell you, it's not gas."
"Oh. So, do you know what it is?"
"No idea. It could be that run-off between your house and his [pointing to our neighbor] has a leak--smells like it could be a sewer leak, and in that case, sewer gas is just as dangerous."
"Will your little clicky thing pick it up if it's sewer gas?"
"It might."
He spends five minutes walking between our yard and the neighbors trying to get his device to register something, but nothing showed up.
"You may want to call water and sewer for cobb county. Something like this, they'll probably come out tonight. Tell them you had the gas company out and they thought the water guys should come out."
I thank him, and I take his advice.
By 11:00 or so the water people arrive. I meet them outside and ask if they smell the smell.
"We took care of it--your backyard neighbor was dumping into the storm drain, which runs right over there [pointing to the runoff between our houses] -- he said he had put some chemicals in his pool and was emptying in it. We told him he couldn't do that. And besides, I never smelled NO smell from pool chemicals like this."
Amen. And that idiot. This is the fourth year he's dumped his pool water on us.
But something's not right. Pool water doesn't smell like this.
It hits me.
"He has a pig. I don't mean a little pig. I mean a hog."
They stare at me.
"I'm saying, I don't know what he does with the manure."
More stares.
They don't get it. They want to be gone from my smelly abode. They tell me that if anyone gets sick, they'll have a report on the incidence at the water company. That one of them almost threw up over by the runoff. That they were going to go BACK to his house, now nearing midnight, and tell him not to do it again.
"It's the pig." That's all I said.
After some online research, we've developed a hypothesis: Our backyard neighbor had taken his chlorinated pool water and used it to wash pig manure down the storm drain next to our house.
Thing is, combining the methane-heavy manure with chlorine in an enclosed space like a sewer drain is just not a good idea. Neither is dumping hog manure on your neighbor.
The end of the story is so far Happy: We're still here.
But the ending of the pig's story may not be so happy: His days are numbered.
I arrived in my subdivision Wednesday evening about 8:30 from my cherished therapy appointment to be greeted with a strong--and I mean strong--repulsive odor that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
It got worse and worse as I neared our driveway. Worse still when I pulled in the driveway. The gag reflex was in full gear by the time I hit the garage door opener. To my complete horror, the smell was INSIDE too.
Jenna, who had been with a sitter, met me at the downstairs door: MOM! It's the hamsters! They smell terrible!"
Racing thoughts: Undiscovered, rotten hamster baby corpses? Odor-reducing food not working? No. Wait. I wouldn't have smelled the odor outside if it were the hamsters.
Perplexed. Climbing the stairs. Sitter racing from the house--"I'm sure it's not your house, dear--it is a smell in the neighborhoood--someone burning or something." Trips down the stairs in her rush.
"Be careful now!" = Byebye nice sitter. Will you ever come back? I loved you.
Back to the smell.
I called our next door neighbor to see if he smelled it. No answer. Called the other-side neighbor to see if they smelled it. No answer.
They must be dead. Thought #2: Bio-terrorism.
Look out the window: Cars are passing by. Turn on the TV. No emergency broadcast system. Okay. So it's not the end of the world, so to speak.
Think think think.
Maybe it's gas--it does have that rotten egg smell. In which case, a gas leak is dangerous. Don't touch any light switches.
It's 9:30 when I decide to call the gas company to come investigate--make sure we're not about to be blown off the map. They get here around 10:00, and I meet the gas man outside.
"WSHEW!" he says. "I smelled this coming down the road--I've never smelled anything like it before, but I can tell you, it's not gas."
"Oh. So, do you know what it is?"
"No idea. It could be that run-off between your house and his [pointing to our neighbor] has a leak--smells like it could be a sewer leak, and in that case, sewer gas is just as dangerous."
"Will your little clicky thing pick it up if it's sewer gas?"
"It might."
He spends five minutes walking between our yard and the neighbors trying to get his device to register something, but nothing showed up.
"You may want to call water and sewer for cobb county. Something like this, they'll probably come out tonight. Tell them you had the gas company out and they thought the water guys should come out."
I thank him, and I take his advice.
By 11:00 or so the water people arrive. I meet them outside and ask if they smell the smell.
"We took care of it--your backyard neighbor was dumping into the storm drain, which runs right over there [pointing to the runoff between our houses] -- he said he had put some chemicals in his pool and was emptying in it. We told him he couldn't do that. And besides, I never smelled NO smell from pool chemicals like this."
Amen. And that idiot. This is the fourth year he's dumped his pool water on us.
But something's not right. Pool water doesn't smell like this.
It hits me.
"He has a pig. I don't mean a little pig. I mean a hog."
They stare at me.
"I'm saying, I don't know what he does with the manure."
More stares.
They don't get it. They want to be gone from my smelly abode. They tell me that if anyone gets sick, they'll have a report on the incidence at the water company. That one of them almost threw up over by the runoff. That they were going to go BACK to his house, now nearing midnight, and tell him not to do it again.
"It's the pig." That's all I said.
After some online research, we've developed a hypothesis: Our backyard neighbor had taken his chlorinated pool water and used it to wash pig manure down the storm drain next to our house.
Thing is, combining the methane-heavy manure with chlorine in an enclosed space like a sewer drain is just not a good idea. Neither is dumping hog manure on your neighbor.
The end of the story is so far Happy: We're still here.
But the ending of the pig's story may not be so happy: His days are numbered.
To the blackboard
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
I will be a good little weblogger and not offend the offensive.
Weblogging Frustrations Continued
As weblogging continues to evolve, so too do the social norms and mores that can't help emerge, I guess.
But more and more, I just don't get. In the early days, there were no rules. And tighter intimacy among bloggers created an environment where we spoke our minds, agreed, disagreed, clashed, bashed, inharently understood that one another's passions powered our writing, took it personally when someone took us to the carpet, but didn't let it cripple the relationship. Unless we didn't want a relationship. AND, that was fine too.
Now there are rules: Be civil. Don't argue. If you do argue, employ the rules of your college debating team. No ad hominem attacks. It is merely their words that are stupid, not them. State your arguments carefully. Back up what you say with statistics and research.
Hello, but if I wanted to go to work, I'd be at work.
If I wanted politics, I would have already sucked up.
This isn't my job site. This is the fucking Internet. Or is it now just one gigantic intranet of tightly-joined "opinion leaders?"
I know that when I disagree with something that someone writes, I don't cloak my dismay in "I believe the best way to..." or "In my opinion..." or "What it brings up for me is..." or "The way I see it is..."
THIS IS MY SPACE. THAT IS YOUR SPACE. OF COURSE THIS IS THE WAY WE SEE IT. EVEN WHEN WE SEE IT DIFFERENTLY. DUH.
Don't ask me to mask what I feel in diluted language and passionless drivel. If I think you're full of shit I'm not always going to say, "The way I see it, Bo's opinion about dogs being beaten as puppies to break their will is flawed." I'm going to say, "Bo is an asshole. He probably beats his wife too."
Okay? That's what I'm going to say.
Does that mean I'll always think Bo is a piece of shit? Well, if Bo also happens to write about how funding for AIDS research needs to be increased, I probably won't say, "Bo, who I said was an asshole for beating puppies and is wife is now an okay guy because he supports better funding for AIDS research." Instead, I might say "Isn't it a kick that Bo, of all people, wants more funding for AIDS research?" Or I might say to Bo, "Well look at this, Bo. We agree on something. Now let's talk about puppies..."
The thing I don't do is waste pixels on mamby-pamby qualifiers, or around-the-bush-beating lead-ins and conclusions.
That's for my real job, where the civil me spends her off-blog time.
So if you want politeness... well, sorry.
But not really.
But more and more, I just don't get. In the early days, there were no rules. And tighter intimacy among bloggers created an environment where we spoke our minds, agreed, disagreed, clashed, bashed, inharently understood that one another's passions powered our writing, took it personally when someone took us to the carpet, but didn't let it cripple the relationship. Unless we didn't want a relationship. AND, that was fine too.
Now there are rules: Be civil. Don't argue. If you do argue, employ the rules of your college debating team. No ad hominem attacks. It is merely their words that are stupid, not them. State your arguments carefully. Back up what you say with statistics and research.
Hello, but if I wanted to go to work, I'd be at work.
If I wanted politics, I would have already sucked up.
This isn't my job site. This is the fucking Internet. Or is it now just one gigantic intranet of tightly-joined "opinion leaders?"
I know that when I disagree with something that someone writes, I don't cloak my dismay in "I believe the best way to..." or "In my opinion..." or "What it brings up for me is..." or "The way I see it is..."
THIS IS MY SPACE. THAT IS YOUR SPACE. OF COURSE THIS IS THE WAY WE SEE IT. EVEN WHEN WE SEE IT DIFFERENTLY. DUH.
Don't ask me to mask what I feel in diluted language and passionless drivel. If I think you're full of shit I'm not always going to say, "The way I see it, Bo's opinion about dogs being beaten as puppies to break their will is flawed." I'm going to say, "Bo is an asshole. He probably beats his wife too."
Okay? That's what I'm going to say.
Does that mean I'll always think Bo is a piece of shit? Well, if Bo also happens to write about how funding for AIDS research needs to be increased, I probably won't say, "Bo, who I said was an asshole for beating puppies and is wife is now an okay guy because he supports better funding for AIDS research." Instead, I might say "Isn't it a kick that Bo, of all people, wants more funding for AIDS research?" Or I might say to Bo, "Well look at this, Bo. We agree on something. Now let's talk about puppies..."
The thing I don't do is waste pixels on mamby-pamby qualifiers, or around-the-bush-beating lead-ins and conclusions.
That's for my real job, where the civil me spends her off-blog time.
So if you want politeness... well, sorry.
But not really.
So, help me some more oh smart readers...
See this post on this experimental blog--I'm starting with an mp3 I already have and trying to understand the backend of this process.
I'd appreciate any answers you could provide over there. Also, links to great shows and essential reading on podcasting are appreciated.
And yes, my mind is already on fast-forward, seeing how podcasting can blogging into a platform more than a medium, which needs to happen before we kill the momentum we've created. I see too the business implications of all of this, and the artistic "free agent" implications. It is, actually, quite exciting.
I thought Podcasting was just a bunch of geeks talking into microphones, like Larry King meets Home Alone. I see now that it is much, much more.
Weblogging needs this. There are so many people writing that perhaps some really should be talking instead. This will help sort and shape us by our talents, enable great writers to avoid slipping beneath the noise threshold of weblogging. In the mean time, podcasting gives great brains a way to share what's inside them without having to be confined to the constructs of the written word. This is huge.
And then there's podcasting's potential role in the whole music and creative works distribution/ownership revolution, which is mindblowing in its own right.
Okay, over to POD street now.
I'd appreciate any answers you could provide over there. Also, links to great shows and essential reading on podcasting are appreciated.
And yes, my mind is already on fast-forward, seeing how podcasting can blogging into a platform more than a medium, which needs to happen before we kill the momentum we've created. I see too the business implications of all of this, and the artistic "free agent" implications. It is, actually, quite exciting.
I thought Podcasting was just a bunch of geeks talking into microphones, like Larry King meets Home Alone. I see now that it is much, much more.
Weblogging needs this. There are so many people writing that perhaps some really should be talking instead. This will help sort and shape us by our talents, enable great writers to avoid slipping beneath the noise threshold of weblogging. In the mean time, podcasting gives great brains a way to share what's inside them without having to be confined to the constructs of the written word. This is huge.
And then there's podcasting's potential role in the whole music and creative works distribution/ownership revolution, which is mindblowing in its own right.
Okay, over to POD street now.
April 21, 2005
Podcasting Parade
The comments on my PODcasting questions are incredibly astute and useful. Well, it is a credible bunch after all. Shelley points to this link, which provides a great "how to" video for setting up a kit, as well as pricing and order information.
Ethan at The Vision Thing has been generous with his advice via email and has just about talked me into my first PODcast (at his end at least) interview. Great interviews on his site.
Lisa Williams simplified PODcasting over here. She also gives TV Guide a couple of hints.
Believe it or not, I now understand.
I really do.
I think I want to play with it. George says he has some of the pieces I need. He could do a full-blown deal, but I'm trying to get HIM to go that route too.
It's a more natural medium for him. For me, it's--what did they used to call it during review time at The Agency? A Development Opportunity (i.e. something you suck at and better improve at or no ladder climbing for you.)
God bless us bloggers, every one.
Ethan at The Vision Thing has been generous with his advice via email and has just about talked me into my first PODcast (at his end at least) interview. Great interviews on his site.
Lisa Williams simplified PODcasting over here. She also gives TV Guide a couple of hints.
Believe it or not, I now understand.
I really do.
I think I want to play with it. George says he has some of the pieces I need. He could do a full-blown deal, but I'm trying to get HIM to go that route too.
It's a more natural medium for him. For me, it's--what did they used to call it during review time at The Agency? A Development Opportunity (i.e. something you suck at and better improve at or no ladder climbing for you.)
God bless us bloggers, every one.
I'm practicing for this new technology even as we speak!
I practiced for four hours today. Shhh. Don't tell my business partner. In fact, at this rate, I'll be able to qualify easily for the human hibernation olympics before the next quarter.
"The cool thing about this gas we're using, hydrogen sulfide, is that it isn't something manufactured that we're taking down from a shelf -- it isn't 'better living through chemistry' -- it's simply an agent that all of us make in our bodies all the time to buffer our metabolic flexibility. It's what allows our core temperature to stay at 98.6 degrees, regardless of whether we're in Alaska or Tahiti," Roth said.
Let's say I want to try this podcasting thing
I've been avoiding the whole-nine-yards around podcasting. I've never heard one. I don't know what it takes to do one. I think it's a weird name. I can't see how it's different from audioblogging.
But with all the buzz, I know it's different. I just don't know WTF.
All of this and more was what I was thinking last night -- night being the time I get most pissed off at weblogging, well, at just about everything, they call that hypervigilence in trauma psychology, but I digress -- as I decided that I need something new to recharge my juices around this space.
So, I have an Acer laptop. I don't have external speakers, just, you know, the built in speakers.
I have a power cord and a DSL cable.
That quite literally is all I have, not counting an ink-jet printer.
What else do I need to create my first podcast? And where can I listen to some good ones?
Thank you very much.
But with all the buzz, I know it's different. I just don't know WTF.
All of this and more was what I was thinking last night -- night being the time I get most pissed off at weblogging, well, at just about everything, they call that hypervigilence in trauma psychology, but I digress -- as I decided that I need something new to recharge my juices around this space.
So, I have an Acer laptop. I don't have external speakers, just, you know, the built in speakers.
I have a power cord and a DSL cable.
That quite literally is all I have, not counting an ink-jet printer.
What else do I need to create my first podcast? And where can I listen to some good ones?
Thank you very much.
Missed it the first time around: Wikipedia and Credibility
From Phil, I found an interesting conversation among Danah , Clay and others regarding Wikipedia and its relative value as a source for research. The post is from a couple of months ago. I missed it the first time around, but began responding before I realized the posts were old. Ah, timeliness online is relative thanks to our archives, you know, since an archived entry is an archived entry only if you happen to look at the date....
I think the notion that Wikipedia is "authored by N unknown people," as danah says, is important when viewed in context with the idea that Wikipedia is also a self-correcting web-based tool (i.e., unlike its traditional counterparts, Wikipedia is continuously updated).
Compared to the genesis and updating of traditional encyclopedias, which are, in the end, a by-product of the publishing industry, Wikipedia comes out ahead in my book. Or at least as "credible enough" for danah's students to use--which was the point of discussion in the original post. Again, one source is created bottom up (Wikipedia), one source is birthed by publishing corporations, where employees feel a little guilty for sneaking pencils and note pads home to their kids, who they don't get to see until after they pick them up at daycare at 6:30.
I may be "buying into the open source religion" in a way that danah doesn't, or I may be valuing passion above business as the motivator for creating an excellent resource.
That said, danah has some good ideas for enhancements to Wikipedia that could satisfy the more discerning professors and make life a whole lot easier for students.
I think the notion that Wikipedia is "authored by N unknown people," as danah says, is important when viewed in context with the idea that Wikipedia is also a self-correcting web-based tool (i.e., unlike its traditional counterparts, Wikipedia is continuously updated).
Compared to the genesis and updating of traditional encyclopedias, which are, in the end, a by-product of the publishing industry, Wikipedia comes out ahead in my book. Or at least as "credible enough" for danah's students to use--which was the point of discussion in the original post. Again, one source is created bottom up (Wikipedia), one source is birthed by publishing corporations, where employees feel a little guilty for sneaking pencils and note pads home to their kids, who they don't get to see until after they pick them up at daycare at 6:30.
I may be "buying into the open source religion" in a way that danah doesn't, or I may be valuing passion above business as the motivator for creating an excellent resource.
That said, danah has some good ideas for enhancements to Wikipedia that could satisfy the more discerning professors and make life a whole lot easier for students.
April 20, 2005
I used to bleed here
I used to bleed here. This is the place I used to bleed. I was not afraid to bleed here. We bled here. This is the place I used to tell you how my skin, scalded and peeling rage, my eyes shedding tears like puss, how all of that feels when molded into pixels, when splayed flat on a screen, how to make words into three dimensions: pain, loss and grief.
From that place I come again.
Secrets more secrets undone--kept so long, generations bear the heavy weight of tumors, origins unspoken. She could have told me. She could have held me. She could have stayed. Except that she was me once.
And either way, we bleed, if not here, then in white porcelain tubs under jets of warm water, your cheek against mine, you promising, me alone, fists against walls, my own tears washing away the blood.
From that place I come again.
Secrets more secrets undone--kept so long, generations bear the heavy weight of tumors, origins unspoken. She could have told me. She could have held me. She could have stayed. Except that she was me once.
And either way, we bleed, if not here, then in white porcelain tubs under jets of warm water, your cheek against mine, you promising, me alone, fists against walls, my own tears washing away the blood.
April 19, 2005
As long as you have worked so hard to get your gender equality ducks in a row...
...then i guess, whine whine, that everything is just fine.
Yah, you think that's funny? Go read the comments. "OH, well you didn't invite black people? aliens? HA HA" type of crap. Continued version of the conversation going on over at Shelley's.
FORGET Bush. The damn tech world needs a revolution to overthrow the current mantra of stupidity.
The inbreeding has reached critical mass.
I'm not going to invite women to blogger dinners just to have gender equality there. Sorry. On the other hand, I am very sensitive to this issue. At the MSN Search Champs group this week there are several women attending and we went overboard to find women bloggers who are passionate about computers and technology. But, it was easier there because we are flying people in from all over the world and not just the San Francisco Bay Area.What Next--BLACK PEOPLE?
Yah, you think that's funny? Go read the comments. "OH, well you didn't invite black people? aliens? HA HA" type of crap. Continued version of the conversation going on over at Shelley's.
FORGET Bush. The damn tech world needs a revolution to overthrow the current mantra of stupidity.
The inbreeding has reached critical mass.
April 18, 2005
Do Black Folks Search? I'm just asking...
Nice to see some women at this year's MSN Search Camp. I'm glad the folks involved took Liz Lawley's advice from last year and broadened their diversity portfolio.
One thing though. The pictures I've seen so far look pretty, um, melanin-challenged.
Maybe black Americans don't search much. I mean, those people still use pagers for their drug deals, right? So they wouldn't have anything to add to a conversation on the nuances of search. Just wait until Instant Messaging catches on though! Whoa!
Sorry. I'm probably just mistaken. Someone, call me to task. I'll wait.
And in the mean time, I'll tell you about a trend I've noticed on the part of some white Americans trying to diversify their blogs--and kudos to those who have acknowledged that they'd gotten stuck in their initial blog circles and might do well with pushing some walls out of the way... I count myself in that bunch. And that is, if you will, "all good."
However, it seems to me that a great number of white Americans have an easier time or are inclined to diversify by going OUTSIDE of America to cultures they perceive as more exotic for new voices. In other words, they leap at the chance to add a Japanese blogger, a Kenyan blogger, a Nigerian blogger. But what is NOT second nature is to add black Americans with that same vigor.
Especially, and I will say it, black American men.
You can tell me I'm wrong. You can tell me all day long. But my eyes and ears are tuned to this, from the inside of my own family outward. It's not something I consciously go looking for (as some bloggers I've called to task might think); no, it's something I notice as second nature. It's that typical kind of bullshit that strikes in a flash, raising my arm hairs.
And it isn't that those bloggers grasping outside their own borders to add diverse voices are wrong. ON THE CONTRARY! Pushing the conversation ever outward is a good thing--huge.
It's what keeps blogging from becoming inbred.
But you also might want to look down the street from where you live too, say around the block, down the road. Instead of tuning in culturally to what you see on CNN or FOX NEWS. Because it's really neat the way mainstream media tackles those intriguing stories overseas. And how COPS tackles those terrific drug-deals-gone-bad here at "home." And it's really neat the way darker-skinned people from overseas seem so very authentic, and how lots of them need America; yet darker skinned people in America -- they cause trouble.
And it's really fascinating how black men doing something technical, smart, savvy, geeky -- just like you even! -- just doesn't register.
One thing though. The pictures I've seen so far look pretty, um, melanin-challenged.
Maybe black Americans don't search much. I mean, those people still use pagers for their drug deals, right? So they wouldn't have anything to add to a conversation on the nuances of search. Just wait until Instant Messaging catches on though! Whoa!
Sorry. I'm probably just mistaken. Someone, call me to task. I'll wait.
And in the mean time, I'll tell you about a trend I've noticed on the part of some white Americans trying to diversify their blogs--and kudos to those who have acknowledged that they'd gotten stuck in their initial blog circles and might do well with pushing some walls out of the way... I count myself in that bunch. And that is, if you will, "all good."
However, it seems to me that a great number of white Americans have an easier time or are inclined to diversify by going OUTSIDE of America to cultures they perceive as more exotic for new voices. In other words, they leap at the chance to add a Japanese blogger, a Kenyan blogger, a Nigerian blogger. But what is NOT second nature is to add black Americans with that same vigor.
Especially, and I will say it, black American men.
You can tell me I'm wrong. You can tell me all day long. But my eyes and ears are tuned to this, from the inside of my own family outward. It's not something I consciously go looking for (as some bloggers I've called to task might think); no, it's something I notice as second nature. It's that typical kind of bullshit that strikes in a flash, raising my arm hairs.
And it isn't that those bloggers grasping outside their own borders to add diverse voices are wrong. ON THE CONTRARY! Pushing the conversation ever outward is a good thing--huge.
It's what keeps blogging from becoming inbred.
But you also might want to look down the street from where you live too, say around the block, down the road. Instead of tuning in culturally to what you see on CNN or FOX NEWS. Because it's really neat the way mainstream media tackles those intriguing stories overseas. And how COPS tackles those terrific drug-deals-gone-bad here at "home." And it's really neat the way darker-skinned people from overseas seem so very authentic, and how lots of them need America; yet darker skinned people in America -- they cause trouble.
And it's really fascinating how black men doing something technical, smart, savvy, geeky -- just like you even! -- just doesn't register.
Man, You Can Wrap BPM Around Anything...
The New York State Civil Service Department has a Layoff Process Flowchart that somebody needs to spoof. I mean Come On. How many resources are allocated to the Layoff Process over there--and if they laid that bunch off, would they really need to lay anyone else off?
New York has its layoff processes together--and I mean t-i-g-h-t. Look what goes on before YOU ever hear "hey, layoffs are coming" through the grape vine:
AGENCY LAYOFF PLANNING
--management makes preliminary decisions on programs, titles and numbers of positions; analysis of impact on protected classes
--notify Civil Service, GOER and unions of the potential for layoffs
--receive seniority rosters; update personnel records
--begin "appropriate titles decision" process with Civil Service
--assign and train human resource and affirmative action staff for layoffs
All that happens for NY Civil Service layoffs before your mail man has any idea his ass is about to get kicked to the curb (without the truck).
You know what I say to the layoff department? Streamlining business processes starts at home.
The Solution Is Parody
Steve and Robert are the latest to be roasted over at BBN. Hee heee! These folks at BBN should get a grant or something. I mean, how much do we need a Saturday Night Live for Bloggers Only. Like WAY!
Check out the women/men linking video a couple posts below "Fun with Self-Surveillance." We sure do need some comedy to remind us not to take blogging seriously.
When's Scoble gonna do a guest appearance? Like DeNiro on SNL.
BONUS PIC:
Left to Right: Rogers Cadenhead, Bobby DeNiro, Halley Suitt
Check out the women/men linking video a couple posts below "Fun with Self-Surveillance." We sure do need some comedy to remind us not to take blogging seriously.
When's Scoble gonna do a guest appearance? Like DeNiro on SNL.
BONUS PIC:
Left to Right: Rogers Cadenhead, Bobby DeNiro, Halley Suitt
Ramen Pride
The only meal you can buy for 25 cents that gives you an entire month's worth of sodium! An addict's delight. It should be illegal.
Chicken Flavor Noodle Soup
Chicken Flavor Noodle SoupNET WT.: 3 oz / FOR 1 SERVINGINGREDIETNS: * Noodle - Enriched wheat flour(wheat flour, niacin, reduced iron, thiamine mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid), salt, salt, salt, salt, salt, salt, and salt.
COOKING DIRECTIONS: 1) Boil some water in a sauce pan, add noodles and cook three minutes. 2) Turn off heat, add seasoning package. 3) Eat. 4) Take diuretic.
Chicken Flavor Noodle Soup
Chicken Flavor Noodle SoupNET WT.: 3 oz / FOR 1 SERVINGINGREDIETNS: * Noodle - Enriched wheat flour(wheat flour, niacin, reduced iron, thiamine mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid), salt, salt, salt, salt, salt, salt, and salt.
COOKING DIRECTIONS: 1) Boil some water in a sauce pan, add noodles and cook three minutes. 2) Turn off heat, add seasoning package. 3) Eat. 4) Take diuretic.
In keeping with my ongoing theme of optimism...
OR... A cell is just a cell?
Please don't miss C-Blo's Reservoir Unknown post today. It's serious business. Half conspiracy theory and half infectious disease / molecular biological theory -- all mixed together with a good dose of institutionalized racism, genocide, and witchcraft -- makes the research/story Chris has pulled together in this post REALLY REALLY compelling. As in, where will you buy your HazMat suit?
"THIS SHIT AIN'T FUNNY, COCO."
Please don't miss C-Blo's Reservoir Unknown post today. It's serious business. Half conspiracy theory and half infectious disease / molecular biological theory -- all mixed together with a good dose of institutionalized racism, genocide, and witchcraft -- makes the research/story Chris has pulled together in this post REALLY REALLY compelling. As in, where will you buy your HazMat suit?
"THIS SHIT AIN'T FUNNY, COCO."
I didn't know Tom Snyder was blogging...
Or that he has leukemia. But listen, his post on discovering his diagnosis is terrific. I think I like him more as a writer than I did as a talk-show host (and I didn't like him as a talk show host).
What I'd like is Tom's doctors.
His words about the Pope aren't bad either:
Four years ago they stuck a defibrillator/pacemaker in my chest because my heart disease was treatable! A year and a half ago a nearly torn tendon in my left leg was diagnosed as treatable. Then I came down with atrial fibrillation, but was told not to worry about that because it is treatable! I don't know how much more room I have in my aging carcass for this treatable shit! Anyway, my doctors assure me this is nothing to worry about, and I have to accept that, I guess. They say this kind of leukemia is not fatal, that people can live with it for thirty years. Notice, they don't say people will live thirty years. But they "can" live up to thirty years. Considering I will be sixty nine years old next month I ain't looking for thirty years, but fifteen more would be nice! I looked up chronic lymphocytic leukemia on the Internet and found a source that predicted people who are diagnosed early can live up to twelve years. Those who are not diagnosed early--and the website does not define "early"-- have a survival rate of about two years. I don't know if my diagnosis was early or late.
My doctors say this disease (which I'll refer to as CLL from now on) has a very slow rate of progression. I had more blood work done today to make certain this diagnosis is correct. The doctors will have the results of this in a week or so and then we will see what treatment they recommend. I am going to Northern California for about two weeks and I am not taking my leukemia with me. The doctors say that's okay with them.
What I'd like is Tom's doctors.
His words about the Pope aren't bad either:
Am I the only one who noticed the opulence and wealth on display at the Pope's funeral? Am I the only one who was bothered by the Pope's body being hauled around the Vatican (I think displaying the body after death is barbaric)? As I watched the Cardinals in their red robes and sashes and the pomp and majesty of the ceremonies I kept thinking: we certainly have come a long way from the stable where Christ was born!
April 17, 2005
Brian Buck, Peace.
Rogers and Dave report that Brian Buck has lost his battle with bone cancer. I checked in on Brian's blog every so often after I first saw Dave mention Brian and his writings about coping with cancer. I am so sorry to hear that his words have stopped, his breath, his voice.
In his weblog, Brian puts words around grieving better than anyone I've read in a very, very long time...
I hope that Brian's blog will remain accessible for years to come. That is obviously the decision of his family. But if I discover one day I have cancer, Brian's is a weblog I would spend a lot of time on. For information, and for inspiration. And I would bet I'm not the only one.
Peace.
In his weblog, Brian puts words around grieving better than anyone I've read in a very, very long time...
Mourning
I don't know how other people deal with it, but when I am under duress I tend to repress a lot of my emotions. One of the sad realities of battling cancer is you meet a lot of people who have a high likelihood of dying. Over the last year, I have had a half-dozen people I care about pass on. There is never a good time to die, but when you are battling the same disease that others around you are dying from, it can be tough to keep your head up. I imagine it is like true combat. You would like to stop and mourn the loss of your brothers, but there is no time to waste, you must kill the enemy or end up dead yourself.
It is days like today that the memories of my fallen brothers and sisters haunt me. Now that I am no longer under fire, it is time for me to go back and mourn them properly. It can be a dark hallway to look into, but I try to make it bright. I listen to music and celebrate life. I remember past conversations, words they have written, and thoughts they have passed on to me. And I cry. I used to avoid crying, it made me feel weak, or so I thought. But now I can cry and it makes me feel better. Sometimes I feel like I am up against an insurmountable wall, but when I cry, my tears are proof that the feelings inside me are real, and that my emotions can be moved forth into the here and now.
At times, life can seem like it will be this way forever. You take for granted a kiss, a phone call from somebody you love. As I mourn the lives of my friends who have passed on, it is these lonely times I find so dark. It is hard to find brightness when you are alone in an empty room. But I think of the spirit, the strengths that these friends had. I fill my mind with their voices, the life and love of another person can be much greater than yourself, and it can be a beautiful feeling when you find it. I am still learning the language of mourning, and it is spoken with voices in the past. I still hear you, friend.
I hope that Brian's blog will remain accessible for years to come. That is obviously the decision of his family. But if I discover one day I have cancer, Brian's is a weblog I would spend a lot of time on. For information, and for inspiration. And I would bet I'm not the only one.
Peace.
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