May 23, 2005
May 22, 2005
What, you think I'm kidding about the hamsters?
I post what are probably the most adorable pictures of the most adorable creatures outside of Shelley's cat, and you are not moved? Nothing special comes up for you when you see a furry needy face staring you down? Those little newborns have not moved you to tears? You are not at my doorstep begging to own one at no cost to you?
What is WRONG with you people.
What is WRONG with you people.
May 21, 2005
You guys just don't get it...
| This photo. It is the night sky above the condiments. Those are dark clouds rolling in from the west. The colors. This is the kind of photo that changes everything. I'm not even kidding. I have dibs on it. Cyrus, you'll have to let me use it. NO! I don't know what for. thank you. |  Ketchup and pepper Originally uploaded by cyrus_. |
Hamster Charity Work
You should know that nine baby hamsters have healthily made it to weening age. We are so proud. They are so sweet. I didn't want the little buggers, but, you know what? Damn. They are something else.
I went to PetSmart two days ago and spent $140 I don't have on two rather nice cages that are going to my friend's kids (along with two of the babies!), bedding (we were out), food (we were out), and five $7.99 mini cages. George set the little cages up, and I took two babies in their little mini-cages (each cage with food and water, plus a ziplock bag of extra food to get them started) to pick up Jenna on the last day of school.
I am a smart woman. The school nurse took one for her daughter, then a father took one for his graduating fifth-grade daughter (insisting I take $10 in return). Then the nurse called me later in the day and came by to pick up another baby for her daughter's friend.
So, we've got five babies out of the nest.
And there are four babies left, three of which are pictured below. As you'll see by the names next to each, it looks like we're keeping two. Head examination welcome.
Baby Runt Sweet Thang (Mama's)
Baby Brown Head (Jenna's)
Baby Black Eyes Sweetie (Yours)
Hamster pregnancy and pre-natal supplies: $65
Cages, bedding, food and accessories to give away to good homes: $140
Helping the babies grow from popcorn shrimp into beautiful creatures: Priceless
I went to PetSmart two days ago and spent $140 I don't have on two rather nice cages that are going to my friend's kids (along with two of the babies!), bedding (we were out), food (we were out), and five $7.99 mini cages. George set the little cages up, and I took two babies in their little mini-cages (each cage with food and water, plus a ziplock bag of extra food to get them started) to pick up Jenna on the last day of school.
I am a smart woman. The school nurse took one for her daughter, then a father took one for his graduating fifth-grade daughter (insisting I take $10 in return). Then the nurse called me later in the day and came by to pick up another baby for her daughter's friend.
So, we've got five babies out of the nest.
And there are four babies left, three of which are pictured below. As you'll see by the names next to each, it looks like we're keeping two. Head examination welcome.
Baby Runt Sweet Thang (Mama's)
Baby Brown Head (Jenna's)
Baby Black Eyes Sweetie (Yours)
Hamster pregnancy and pre-natal supplies: $65
Cages, bedding, food and accessories to give away to good homes: $140
Helping the babies grow from popcorn shrimp into beautiful creatures: Priceless
davecasting
I know Dave has been participating online as long as there has been an online. Alright, before. Today I say, Dave Winer has found his medium. I've been listening for a while now to his many podcasts. In pixels, understanding Dave Winer as "Dave" has eluded me.
In mp3, I finally get him.
In mp3, I finally get him.
Test of Technorati
Patience running thin over here. Why is technorati not keeping up with the conversation? What's wrong? It's been a few days since my IBM Breathing post, which generated several folks linking to it (and probably 3000 hits from folks in and outside of IBM, which usually results in a link or two itself). I'm not saying I care. I'm not saying I'm obsessed. But for me this is a good test of Technorati and how it's keeping up because I actually know some of what should be showing up. And it's not. Not for days. That's not so good.
Don't make me go searchin' on RSS feeds, now.
Don't make me go searchin' on RSS feeds, now.
What do you know about SEO?
I've been reading up on search engine optimization, not from a weblog perspective but from a professional discipline perspective. I am well practiced yet unstudied on the topic (i.e., I don't know what others say on SEO--especially search engine folks). And frankly, I am trying to define how much SEO is a game or a technique, how much a nicety or a necessity. Is it using key words in key places without sacrificing meaning or intention in order to have your website noticed when search engines crawl? This is what I do. And do search engines appreciate it or do they try to dismiss sites who weave these techniques into copy? I fear so, hope not.
I know there is an art to optimizing website content so that it is finely tuned and appealing to search engines without 1) sounding stilted and 2) so obviously catering to search engines that they can toss you out for trying too hard. I do some of this naturally in developing content. Should we all be doing more of it for our clients?
Ladies, gentlemen, I need to know what you know about SEO. Then I'll research some more. Then I'll say what I think. What do you think?
I know there is an art to optimizing website content so that it is finely tuned and appealing to search engines without 1) sounding stilted and 2) so obviously catering to search engines that they can toss you out for trying too hard. I do some of this naturally in developing content. Should we all be doing more of it for our clients?
Ladies, gentlemen, I need to know what you know about SEO. Then I'll research some more. Then I'll say what I think. What do you think?
Condiments at the Edge of Night
| This is one of the most oddly seductive photographs I've ever seen. To a museum wall with you! | Ketchup and pepper Originally uploaded by cyrus_. |
May 20, 2005
auto-aggregate?
shouldn't blogrolling.com be able to write little utility where it would go through your blogroll and grab RSS feeds from sites that have them which you could then import into the aggregator of your choice somehow?
I have the usual suspects in my bloglines aggregator thingy. I don't want them but I can't find all the lesser knowns in my blogroll without going through them one at a time and finding their feeds, can I? Or searching for them in the aggregator?
Hello, that's a hell of a lot of work.
I think I'll just keep surfing my blogroll and forget the aggregator thing.
I have the usual suspects in my bloglines aggregator thingy. I don't want them but I can't find all the lesser knowns in my blogroll without going through them one at a time and finding their feeds, can I? Or searching for them in the aggregator?
Hello, that's a hell of a lot of work.
I think I'll just keep surfing my blogroll and forget the aggregator thing.
Joi: Does an Interesting Life Make for a Boring Blog?
Joi gets down to it in this post where he asks his readers, essentially, if we are as bored by the stuff he's writing as he is.
I forget if I've talked to Joi on the phone or not--I believe I have a couple of times? With Locke maybe? Or IRC-ed while phoning simultaneously? I don't quite remember. But I know I have enjoyed the Joi Ito multi-channel experience.
Allow me to digress.
Before I ever read Joi, I read lots of people writing about what he wrote. Joi this, Joi that, stealth disco, emergent democracy, and so on. I wondered who the hell is this guy? That's when I started reading him. And I did so mainly to analyze for myself the rapidly-changing motivations of bloggers as the shift from amateurs to professionals began in earnest--and the sucking up was elevated to a fine art.
After I followed the brown noses to his blog, I became a pretty regular reader of joi.ito. Because Joi has an interesting life. In a nutshell, that's what it is.
I like reading about where he goes, who he meets, and why it matters. I like that he gets inside places that most of us never will. He could have waited and just written all this stuff at 45 and called it a book. But instead he posts it like a follow-along song. Follow the bouncing Joi.
Joi's place also gets some of the more lively comments/discussion/feedback. It can turn into a hotbed of criticism for its author. And the constant nit-picking is taking its toll on Joi's voice.
Been there--still there, without the fame. I wrestle with topics I'd like to go back and write about. But I don't. Partly because this isn't the place it was. Whereas we once hung on each other's every (third) word, now we aggregate, skim, skip, and let the tools do half the work.
For me, that has changed things. It's the difference between ripping steak apart with your hands and using a razor sharp knife. Some things should be a little messy.
I have no advice on getting over it--especially for someone as "watched" as Joi. If it were me, I'd go over and write on Gonzo Engaged, which was my first blog, our team blog, our outrageous blog, the blog where there is never ever a mistake because worst practices are best.
That's where I go when I lose my voice. For me, it's going home, it's going back to that net-place where I turned over the first rock. I have to go back in to come out. There, I'm reminded why I started this nonsense in the first place.
Joi, the following statements are not diametrically opposed: (A) I admire you for the work you have done in front of us. (B) You literally couldn't pay me enough to be Joi Ito.
But if you want me to add you to the Gonzo Engaged team, just drop me an email.
Don't worry. You can mess on the carpet over there. Everybody does. ;-)
...I find myself struggling with this bloggers block more and more these days. I find myself hanging out on the IRC channel chatting about things that in the past I would be blogging about. I definitely feel like my blog is going edgy to broad and boring.
I forget if I've talked to Joi on the phone or not--I believe I have a couple of times? With Locke maybe? Or IRC-ed while phoning simultaneously? I don't quite remember. But I know I have enjoyed the Joi Ito multi-channel experience.
Allow me to digress.
Before I ever read Joi, I read lots of people writing about what he wrote. Joi this, Joi that, stealth disco, emergent democracy, and so on. I wondered who the hell is this guy? That's when I started reading him. And I did so mainly to analyze for myself the rapidly-changing motivations of bloggers as the shift from amateurs to professionals began in earnest--and the sucking up was elevated to a fine art.
After I followed the brown noses to his blog, I became a pretty regular reader of joi.ito. Because Joi has an interesting life. In a nutshell, that's what it is.
I like reading about where he goes, who he meets, and why it matters. I like that he gets inside places that most of us never will. He could have waited and just written all this stuff at 45 and called it a book. But instead he posts it like a follow-along song. Follow the bouncing Joi.
Joi's place also gets some of the more lively comments/discussion/feedback. It can turn into a hotbed of criticism for its author. And the constant nit-picking is taking its toll on Joi's voice.
...As I read criticisms in the comments and on other blogs about what I write, I have become increasingly sensitive about what I say here. The criticism is often valid. "Check your facts before you post." "Read before you write." "Don't be so self-obsessed." "That was stupid." "The tone of your post was offensive to me." "So this guy posts every time he's 'off' to somewhere new. Is he boasting about his travel?" I know it shouldn't, but these voices yap at me in my head and cause a kind of chilling effect. I fear that my jokes will be misinterpreted and the irony lost. I fear that someone will take offense. I fear that a post will sound boastful.
Been there--still there, without the fame. I wrestle with topics I'd like to go back and write about. But I don't. Partly because this isn't the place it was. Whereas we once hung on each other's every (third) word, now we aggregate, skim, skip, and let the tools do half the work.
For me, that has changed things. It's the difference between ripping steak apart with your hands and using a razor sharp knife. Some things should be a little messy.
I have no advice on getting over it--especially for someone as "watched" as Joi. If it were me, I'd go over and write on Gonzo Engaged, which was my first blog, our team blog, our outrageous blog, the blog where there is never ever a mistake because worst practices are best.
That's where I go when I lose my voice. For me, it's going home, it's going back to that net-place where I turned over the first rock. I have to go back in to come out. There, I'm reminded why I started this nonsense in the first place.
Joi, the following statements are not diametrically opposed: (A) I admire you for the work you have done in front of us. (B) You literally couldn't pay me enough to be Joi Ito.
But if you want me to add you to the Gonzo Engaged team, just drop me an email.
Don't worry. You can mess on the carpet over there. Everybody does. ;-)
May 19, 2005
8 Rules for Creating Great White Papers
Are you one of those people who've secretly--or not so secretly--wondered what a white paper is, what it's for, what one should say (and not say), what topics are "the right" topics, and what might make your next white paper a must read?
Or, do you just want to see what we've been up to at The Content Factor?
Either way, here's our first free white paper in a series that will make you scream, "More!".
Eight Rules for Creating
Great White Papers
Download, read, and enjoy. Visit our blog. And if you have any questions or need advice, give us a shout.
Or, do you just want to see what we've been up to at The Content Factor?
Either way, here's our first free white paper in a series that will make you scream, "More!".
Eight Rules for Creating
Great White Papers
Download, read, and enjoy. Visit our blog. And if you have any questions or need advice, give us a shout.
Read This, Commented Thusly
Read this over at MOCC's Flackster.
Responded Thusly:
So, what would YOU do?
A Reuters report in this morning’s Globe and Mail describes changes introduced by Morgan Stanley and their ad agency into the contracts they’re proposing to use in booking print advertising. “Under the policy, Morgan Stanley wants publishers to tell it about any objectionable stories that will be run in their newspaper or magazine,” according to Reuters’ sources.
The clear implication is that the mighty Morgan Stanley is threatening to pull lucrative advertising from any publications running stories critical of the firm.
Responded Thusly:
On one hand, I say, "Well the imaginary wall between editorial and advertising in MSM publications has just been outed as the less-than-pure facade it has been--and good." On the other hand, I say, "How dare Morgan Stanley apply editorial pressure through ad dollars." On the other hand, I wonder if these new policies/disclaimers are becoming more common than we know. On the other hand, how fun to work in Issues and Crisis on the PR side during a time when you can make such demands. On the same hand, I think this is representative of the undeniable loss of power of the mainstream media. In the end, these are corporations making demands upon one another that will wind up with them either doing business together or not.
If I were a Morgan Stanley competitor, I would write and publish my own OPEN AD POLICY right now that would read the exact oposite of this--stating that in no way do we tie our ad dollars to reporting/news stories, that we trust our customers and stakeholders to use their intelligence and judgment in what they read, that some things they read may be critical of our organization. Many more will testify to our success.
In other words--the best opportunity here is lies with the organizations competing with those making such demands.
And, if I were the publications in question, I'd say no. Opening the door to MORE Morgan Stanleys would forever rewrite my editorial policy.
Might as well have PR flacks write the news. (Oh, wait a minute!)
So, what would YOU do?
May 18, 2005
Send Water
What they don't put on the benecarHCT literature is that you get the biggest baddest case of cotton mouth you've had since that really big bowl you smoked back in the 70s.
Someone send water.
And brownies.
Someone send water.
And brownies.
Where Are They Now?
I was thinking on my way to Group how far so many bloggers have come from where they were -- in style, substance, voice, even personally -- since we started ths little exercise. This now noisy bunch for the most part started out a little timid, whimsical, unfocused, then took the lid off and never shut up.
So, how did we sound back then, in the beginning?
Denise Howell: "...It's my blog and welcome to it (I can't be the only one around here with a latent Thurber fetish, can I?"
Frank Paynter: "tap-tap-tap. hello hello. can you hear me in the back of the room?"
Gary Turner: "It lives! If you find yourself reading this you are either: (a) Lost (b) Out of medication (c) Already clicking the Back button (d) I've become famous and you're tracing my rise to success."
RageBoy: "Finally finished the "review essay" for HBR. Look for it in the November-December issue. That is, if you're inclined to shell out for the paper edition or pay for it on the site. These guys don't seem to believe that ASCII wants to be free. And they wouldn't let me use the word "suck" -- can you fucking believe that?"
Andrea Roceal James: "There are two things that have interested me most about the diaries of others: the intimacy and familiarity of tone, and the fact that the diarist manages to find something to say about the smallest of everyday things. I find it a good writing exercise to attempt to come up with a unique perspective on my world on a daily basis."
Elaine: "My mother lives across the hall from me -- a situation I swore would never happen. But life happens, and death beckons, and sometimes the better parts of us win out after all. But she still drives me crazy."
Tom Matrullo: (estimated--probably earlier posts): " 'For the last twenty years neither matter nor space nor time has been what it was from time immemorial. We must expect great innovations to transform the entire technique of the arts, thereby affecting artistic invention itself and perhaps even bringing about an amazing change in our very notion of art.' " -- Paul Valery, "La conquete de l'ubiquite"
Halley: "So what's the deal with THE STORY of the Ford Thunderbird with it's luxurious Nudo leather seats?"
Stavros (oldest one located): "As promised : I was in the toilet, from whence many of my best thoughts seem to emanate, and the phrase 'cultural cargo cult' sprang, fully formed, into my mind. It was early in the morning, and I see no real connection with my dream about the Irish Monk who required that I bring him the largest lettuce leaf I could in order for him to fashion a cloak from it, for me. The leaf I managed somehow to unwrap from a perfectly normal head of lettuce was not only purple, but approximately the size of a bedsheet."
For too many blogs--especially the old radio blogs--it's nearly impossible to find out how far back posts go. Add to that fact that too many of you have moved to new blog tools and homes without leaving a "from whence you came" link back to your old sites, means that we've lost the connection to the old-new you.
If I missed you and you don't want to be missed, leave a link to your first post from a few years back here, in my comments box.
We were a funny lot. Now we're just a lot.
So, how did we sound back then, in the beginning?
Denise Howell: "...It's my blog and welcome to it (I can't be the only one around here with a latent Thurber fetish, can I?"
Frank Paynter: "tap-tap-tap. hello hello. can you hear me in the back of the room?"
Gary Turner: "It lives! If you find yourself reading this you are either: (a) Lost (b) Out of medication (c) Already clicking the Back button (d) I've become famous and you're tracing my rise to success."
RageBoy: "Finally finished the "review essay" for HBR. Look for it in the November-December issue. That is, if you're inclined to shell out for the paper edition or pay for it on the site. These guys don't seem to believe that ASCII wants to be free. And they wouldn't let me use the word "suck" -- can you fucking believe that?"
Andrea Roceal James: "There are two things that have interested me most about the diaries of others: the intimacy and familiarity of tone, and the fact that the diarist manages to find something to say about the smallest of everyday things. I find it a good writing exercise to attempt to come up with a unique perspective on my world on a daily basis."
Elaine: "My mother lives across the hall from me -- a situation I swore would never happen. But life happens, and death beckons, and sometimes the better parts of us win out after all. But she still drives me crazy."
Tom Matrullo: (estimated--probably earlier posts): " 'For the last twenty years neither matter nor space nor time has been what it was from time immemorial. We must expect great innovations to transform the entire technique of the arts, thereby affecting artistic invention itself and perhaps even bringing about an amazing change in our very notion of art.' " -- Paul Valery, "La conquete de l'ubiquite"
Halley: "So what's the deal with THE STORY of the Ford Thunderbird with it's luxurious Nudo leather seats?"
Stavros (oldest one located): "As promised : I was in the toilet, from whence many of my best thoughts seem to emanate, and the phrase 'cultural cargo cult' sprang, fully formed, into my mind. It was early in the morning, and I see no real connection with my dream about the Irish Monk who required that I bring him the largest lettuce leaf I could in order for him to fashion a cloak from it, for me. The leaf I managed somehow to unwrap from a perfectly normal head of lettuce was not only purple, but approximately the size of a bedsheet."
For too many blogs--especially the old radio blogs--it's nearly impossible to find out how far back posts go. Add to that fact that too many of you have moved to new blog tools and homes without leaving a "from whence you came" link back to your old sites, means that we've lost the connection to the old-new you.
If I missed you and you don't want to be missed, leave a link to your first post from a few years back here, in my comments box.
We were a funny lot. Now we're just a lot.
Alright, let's rip off a few posts here
I don't have a lot of time. Therapy beckons. Listen, I have this summer cold thing and It's got my dander up. Not really, I just thought "dander up" would be a good search phrase for finding this blog. But it does have me off my feed, which is a good thing, given my blood pressure of late, and so I gave in and started taking those blood pressure pills today.
I woke up and thought, well I haven't taken my blood pressure in two days and I'm feeling pretty good--been exercising finally, dropped a couple of the dozens of pounds I'm looking to shed, have been swimming every day, am tan finally. It ought to be back down to the 120/8o it was six weeks ago before my surgery, when I was in far worse health.
Right?
176/110--HOLY! I was waiting for the stroke to hit on the way to the sink to take my first BenecarHCT. [[yes, I checked it three times. Yes it was up that high all morning.]]
Well I took it. People let me know I'd likely be hitting the bathroom more since it's a diuretic. SP? no time to check spelling. But I haven't noticed much difference.
I took it about six hours ago.
Hold on, I'll go check my BP right now.
Everyone--on the count of three, make me relax. Ready? ONE-TWO-THREE!
149/89!
GOOD JOB everyone. Happily boarderline this afternoon.
I woke up and thought, well I haven't taken my blood pressure in two days and I'm feeling pretty good--been exercising finally, dropped a couple of the dozens of pounds I'm looking to shed, have been swimming every day, am tan finally. It ought to be back down to the 120/8o it was six weeks ago before my surgery, when I was in far worse health.
Right?
176/110--HOLY! I was waiting for the stroke to hit on the way to the sink to take my first BenecarHCT. [[yes, I checked it three times. Yes it was up that high all morning.]]
Well I took it. People let me know I'd likely be hitting the bathroom more since it's a diuretic. SP? no time to check spelling. But I haven't noticed much difference.
I took it about six hours ago.
Hold on, I'll go check my BP right now.
Everyone--on the count of three, make me relax. Ready? ONE-TWO-THREE!
149/89!
GOOD JOB everyone. Happily boarderline this afternoon.
Shades of Summer to Come...
"MOM-DAD! QUICK! OH MY GOSH! We have to order this NOW off the computer! You know those fortune cookies I like? On this website, YOU CAN GET ONE BILLION OF THEM FOR JUST $5.95! A BILLION OF THEM!!!"
"A billion? You're saying a billion fortune cookies? It can't be a billion. That'd fill the whole house, the whole neighborhood maybe."
"IT'S A BILLION, YES! FOR $5.95! It says '1 bl! For just $5.95--I have that in the bank!'"
"Are you sure it's not 1 lb.?"
"I don't know--I'LL GO LOOK!!!" [feet running through the house.] "MOM-DAD? Yah, it's 'lb.'
"That's a pound then, not a billion."
"So how big is a pound?"
"Plenty."
"Okay, let's git-em!" [dancing off through the house.]
"A billion? You're saying a billion fortune cookies? It can't be a billion. That'd fill the whole house, the whole neighborhood maybe."
"IT'S A BILLION, YES! FOR $5.95! It says '1 bl! For just $5.95--I have that in the bank!'"
"Are you sure it's not 1 lb.?"
"I don't know--I'LL GO LOOK!!!" [feet running through the house.] "MOM-DAD? Yah, it's 'lb.'
"That's a pound then, not a billion."
"So how big is a pound?"
"Plenty."
"Okay, let's git-em!" [dancing off through the house.]
May 17, 2005
Tickling IBM's Big Blue Funny Bone
Right Back At Me: Responsible Engagement in Inhaling and Exhaling from James Snell. Man, I was going to write up the breathing guidelines, but James beat me to it!
Guidelines for IBM Breathers: Executive Summary
Know and follow IBM's Breathing Conduct Guidelines
- Breathing, circulation and other forms of biological functions are individual processes.
- IBMers are personally responsible for the air they inhale and exhale. Be mindful that the air you consume is being shared by others.
- Identify yourself -- name and, when relevant, role at IBM -- when you breath.
- Breathe in the first person. You must make it clear that you are breathing for yourself and not on behalf of IBM.
- If any air you exhale has something to do with work you do or subjects associated with IBM, use a disclaimer such as this: "The air I exhale is my own
and does not necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions." - Respect polution, smoking and financial disclosure laws.
- Do not disclose IBM's or another's confidential or other proprietary information while breathing.
- Don't exhale on clients, partners or suppliers without their approval.
- Show proper consideration for others right to breathe
- Find out who else is breathing and exhale towards them
- Don't pick fights, be the first to smell your own bad breath, and don't alter previously exhaled air without indicating that you have done so.
- Try to add value, and for goodness sakes use a breath mint.
May 16, 2005
IBM Today Okayed Breathing. Set Guidlines for Air Suckers
For Immediate Release
ARMONK, NY -- May 16, 2005 -- As has been reported on a variety of blogs around the net, IBM today began encouraging all 320,000+ employees world wide to consider engaging actively in the practice of breathing.
This move follows several years of persistent grassroots efforts by an informal community of IBM employees who breathe. Aerobic leaders like Sam Ruby, Grady Booch, Robert Sutor, and anaerobic leaders like Ed Brill and Catherine Helzerman, have played a very significant role in this effort by providing excellent models for other IBMers to follow as they inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide.
"With IBMers breathing both inside and outside our environment, the company recognized full well that it was time to formalize its support for what many of us had been doing for quite some time," said IBM's James Snell, exhaling as he finshed his sentence.
Okay, I'm just having some fun.
Men and their Moms
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?
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?
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.
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