I'm pretty sure that Tweeting is the new Blogging. Remember how mobile phones ousted pay phones from our society? Every time I see a pay phone I want to stop and view it like an under appreciated national monument, asking myself, "Does anyone even remember how to use these things?"
Bloggers were people that wanted to write and hope that someone would see their writings and make a comment, a stamp of recognition, like the passerby at the farmers' market who stops by the new merchant's tent and decides to buy from him an overpriced, granny smith apple to brighten the new guy's day.
Though the blogosphere is alive and well, blogs somehow feel like roadkill on the internet superhighway.
Tweeters are instant celebrities. The sea of tweets is too deep to stop and evaluate quality of language or wit. Everyone can be witty in 140 characters. Instant Authors every 7 seconds (or however long it takes between one new Twitter follower and the next - probably 3 seconds).
Since 2010 is looking to be a year full of new lessons and friendships, I will pay homage to my roots and keep up with the prose, to appreciate the currents of the past that are pushing me along, even when I'm unsure of where I want to go, and even though I can now be found on Twitter:
@moids
More bloggin, less ponderin...and some deep-sea Tweetin'.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Saturday, February 7, 2009
The Missed Connection Who Cried 'Amore!'
You can laugh but you can't judge me. You know you do it, too.
When I get bored, I like to browse the 'missed connections' section of Craigslist, namely to see what the minimum feature is to catch someone's attention - sometimes, it's simply wearing the right shades - but also to observe the personality traits of the obsessed.
"You always order the tall latte and empty four packets of honey into it..."
"I overheard that you like your eggs sunny side up. I like mine fertilized..."
"I was too shy to talk to you but wish those powerful hands were all over me right now..."
Yes, I do think most of the posters are actually female. I can't recall a male-sounding post. I am, however, amazed at the persistence of some people:
"This is Lynn from the burger joint at 26'32 longitude, 31'22 latitude! If you are the guy who asked me what book I was reading, please respond."
(two days later)
"Lynn, here. Looking for Steven xxxxx. Any girls know Steven? The really cute skater guy with blue eyes?"
(one week later, armed with Google search results for 'Steven xxxxx')
"Lynn, again. Just want to know if Steven xxxx, the guy who frequents Cafe Artemis, is the same guy who graduated from Belmont High School in 2002."
(four days and a Grey's Anatomy episode plus John Cusack romantic comedy later)
"Steven! I think we'd be a great match! I think I know what gas station you pump gas at. You always get 91 octane I notice."
(two hours later, with a tone of finality that would drown out the OJ Simpson trial verdict)
"Lynn, this is Steven. I only asked what book you were reading because I was looking for one for my fiancee. Please leave me alone."
I don't necessarily take pleasure in reading something like that. It is the equivalent of finding out Santa's diabetic and that's why he never ate your cookies or that your first love had a sex change and THAT'S why the Adam's apple was a little larger than yours, no it wasn't normal, yes anyone could have been fooled.
But would it be wrong to take on the role of a 'missed connections matchmaker,' if only to appease the lovesick homebodies whom, by virtue of anonymous posting on a public site like Craigslist, can manage to be introverts and voyeurs at the same time?
I can't wait to pose as a 'Steven' and make someone's day on a public forum. I just hope that the other end doesn't have an Adam's apple bigger than mine.
When I get bored, I like to browse the 'missed connections' section of Craigslist, namely to see what the minimum feature is to catch someone's attention - sometimes, it's simply wearing the right shades - but also to observe the personality traits of the obsessed.
"You always order the tall latte and empty four packets of honey into it..."
"I overheard that you like your eggs sunny side up. I like mine fertilized..."
"I was too shy to talk to you but wish those powerful hands were all over me right now..."
Yes, I do think most of the posters are actually female. I can't recall a male-sounding post. I am, however, amazed at the persistence of some people:
"This is Lynn from the burger joint at 26'32 longitude, 31'22 latitude! If you are the guy who asked me what book I was reading, please respond."
(two days later)
"Lynn, here. Looking for Steven xxxxx. Any girls know Steven? The really cute skater guy with blue eyes?"
(one week later, armed with Google search results for 'Steven xxxxx')
"Lynn, again. Just want to know if Steven xxxx, the guy who frequents Cafe Artemis, is the same guy who graduated from Belmont High School in 2002."
(four days and a Grey's Anatomy episode plus John Cusack romantic comedy later)
"Steven! I think we'd be a great match! I think I know what gas station you pump gas at. You always get 91 octane I notice."
(two hours later, with a tone of finality that would drown out the OJ Simpson trial verdict)
"Lynn, this is Steven. I only asked what book you were reading because I was looking for one for my fiancee. Please leave me alone."
I don't necessarily take pleasure in reading something like that. It is the equivalent of finding out Santa's diabetic and that's why he never ate your cookies or that your first love had a sex change and THAT'S why the Adam's apple was a little larger than yours, no it wasn't normal, yes anyone could have been fooled.
But would it be wrong to take on the role of a 'missed connections matchmaker,' if only to appease the lovesick homebodies whom, by virtue of anonymous posting on a public site like Craigslist, can manage to be introverts and voyeurs at the same time?
I can't wait to pose as a 'Steven' and make someone's day on a public forum. I just hope that the other end doesn't have an Adam's apple bigger than mine.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Beauty and The Norm.
How come whenever a new technology or communication medium shows up like the Fonz, we have to pervert it with usage that it was not meant for? Then, it stops being so cool.
I was hoping that with every new form of communication we bridge the gap between being impersonal and actually having face time. I was hoping we'd come as close to being personal without having to be there. That, I could see as a legitimate evolution curve of societal customs. We laugh at blowup dolls, but they did accomplish this before video conferencing was able to convince us that the other end was 'real.' There are no bandwidth limitations with blowup dolls, just psi limitations.
But even in the most professional, most corporate environments, I have seen emails from otherwise successful and bright employees that read like text messages:
"hey can u bring ur report 2 the mtg? thx"
ur welcome.
"Oh em gee! Did you Facebook her?!"
Yes, I did. I thought it was more polite than feeling her up. Apparently not.
I wouldn't put it past our legal system to qualify 'facebooking' - the mark of a successful brand name is when the name becomes a verb in colloquial speech - as stalking or harassment or something that would violate the terms of a restraining order.
Oh, speaking of Facebook.
There are people who have been terminated by employers via Facebook. I think someone was actually served a subpoena on Facebook. If someone is changing their status every 20 min, they'll see a subpoena on their Wall, right?
"The 12th District Court of Appeals wrote on your Wall: ... "
"You were tagged by the Internal Revenue Service in a photo."
Lovely. Not only will they know that I'm watching reruns of 90210 and Save By the Bell in my underwear, they will know how to find me. The Do Not Call registry should be updated to the Do Not Facebook registry.
Then, we have netbooks: laptops so small they are getting close in size (and, therefore, functionality) to smart phones (not smart enough to avoid cannibalization, huh?). Soon, netbooks will come standard with 3G connections so that the carriers will still have their hooks into consumers who've replaced cell phones with 7" laptops that do Skype. We think we're evolving, but we really aren't going anywhere.
And what the hell is so "SMART" about cars that A) can't leave town because they're too dangerous to take on the freeway, B) so small that the usual load you were able to carry in your previous vehicle has to be transported by way of MULTIPLE trips, and C) are so light that two people on roller blades could push one and take off with it?
At least blowup dolls can be deflated and made to be portable; there's only one way to use those.
I was hoping that with every new form of communication we bridge the gap between being impersonal and actually having face time. I was hoping we'd come as close to being personal without having to be there. That, I could see as a legitimate evolution curve of societal customs. We laugh at blowup dolls, but they did accomplish this before video conferencing was able to convince us that the other end was 'real.' There are no bandwidth limitations with blowup dolls, just psi limitations.
But even in the most professional, most corporate environments, I have seen emails from otherwise successful and bright employees that read like text messages:
"hey can u bring ur report 2 the mtg? thx"
ur welcome.
"Oh em gee! Did you Facebook her?!"
Yes, I did. I thought it was more polite than feeling her up. Apparently not.
I wouldn't put it past our legal system to qualify 'facebooking' - the mark of a successful brand name is when the name becomes a verb in colloquial speech - as stalking or harassment or something that would violate the terms of a restraining order.
Oh, speaking of Facebook.
There are people who have been terminated by employers via Facebook. I think someone was actually served a subpoena on Facebook. If someone is changing their status every 20 min, they'll see a subpoena on their Wall, right?
"The 12th District Court of Appeals wrote on your Wall: ... "
"You were tagged by the Internal Revenue Service in a photo."
Lovely. Not only will they know that I'm watching reruns of 90210 and Save By the Bell in my underwear, they will know how to find me. The Do Not Call registry should be updated to the Do Not Facebook registry.
Then, we have netbooks: laptops so small they are getting close in size (and, therefore, functionality) to smart phones (not smart enough to avoid cannibalization, huh?). Soon, netbooks will come standard with 3G connections so that the carriers will still have their hooks into consumers who've replaced cell phones with 7" laptops that do Skype. We think we're evolving, but we really aren't going anywhere.
And what the hell is so "SMART" about cars that A) can't leave town because they're too dangerous to take on the freeway, B) so small that the usual load you were able to carry in your previous vehicle has to be transported by way of MULTIPLE trips, and C) are so light that two people on roller blades could push one and take off with it?
At least blowup dolls can be deflated and made to be portable; there's only one way to use those.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Social Networking...for Meanies.
As far as I know, the social networking craze and the popular services out there are responsible for entire economies, devastating relationships, forming new ones, creating new vernacular, scandalizing beauty pageant contestants, resulting in the termination of employees and even solving crime.
Social networking gives life to even the faintest, most latent personality disorders, particularly obsessive compulsive behavior. The instant updating of 'statuses' and public displays of private messages and flirtation by way of sending silly gifts have all replaced their real life analogues. That is all fine by me.
I think the craze needs to be exploited for good, for making sure no human being is left out of the e-lovefest.
What harm would there be in adding Ahmadinejad, Putin and Kim Jong Il to your Facebook friends list?
"President Barack Obama Superpokes Ahmadinejad, rocks Knesset. Tonight at 11."
We could give the world leaders all iPhones or Crackberrys and interact with them. Political moves and announcements could be predicted ahead of time by way of Superpoke pattern analysis (SPA) and Wall-to-Wall writings (WWW).
Social networking gives life to even the faintest, most latent personality disorders, particularly obsessive compulsive behavior. The instant updating of 'statuses' and public displays of private messages and flirtation by way of sending silly gifts have all replaced their real life analogues. That is all fine by me.
I think the craze needs to be exploited for good, for making sure no human being is left out of the e-lovefest.
What harm would there be in adding Ahmadinejad, Putin and Kim Jong Il to your Facebook friends list?
"President Barack Obama Superpokes Ahmadinejad, rocks Knesset. Tonight at 11."
We could give the world leaders all iPhones or Crackberrys and interact with them. Political moves and announcements could be predicted ahead of time by way of Superpoke pattern analysis (SPA) and Wall-to-Wall writings (WWW).
Monday morning: "Ehud Olmert changes status to 'diabolical.'"
Monday night: "Hamas leadership responds with status change to 'combative.'"
U.S. inauguration day: "Louis Farrakhan changes status to 'thankful,' Superpokes Michelle Obama. Secret Service to investigate."
That is probably all the mean people of the world want, to be loved and engage in the social activities of the people they aim to harass. They most likely weren't hugged as children and had to share their toys. I bet all the meanest meanies were middle childs who were underdeveloped and ugly as sin throughout their adolescence. That's definitely a recipe - also a free pass - for a lifetime of psychoanalysis, several exposes aired on A&E, a devoted section in history books, and perhaps a nice Rx cocktail with not one but two umbrellas.
But let's take it a step further.
A Guantanamo Bay Facebook group. A 'Your hottest leaders' list. Scrabulous with Sarkozy. Awesome. I'd never get work done in class.
Then, we can add in the various prison gangs and see if they interact with each other the same way online as they would in prison. We could call this 'modeling by way of social networking,' which would be the equivalent of virtualizing software systems to save money.
E-cred: posting a giant, solid blue shape on the Bloods' Wall to stir up trouble. Imagine the traffic generated from online gang warfare. What's not to monetize?
And the victims? Merely deleted from friends' lists instead of physically harmed. Somehow, I think we'd need mental and physical harm to manifest themselves as part of the social networking experience. Until then, Hamas can Superpoke the IDF and we can all write on Castro's Wall, wishing him well and tagging him in dug up old photos of him in his youth.
But let's take it a step further.
A Guantanamo Bay Facebook group. A 'Your hottest leaders' list. Scrabulous with Sarkozy. Awesome. I'd never get work done in class.
Then, we can add in the various prison gangs and see if they interact with each other the same way online as they would in prison. We could call this 'modeling by way of social networking,' which would be the equivalent of virtualizing software systems to save money.
E-cred: posting a giant, solid blue shape on the Bloods' Wall to stir up trouble. Imagine the traffic generated from online gang warfare. What's not to monetize?
And the victims? Merely deleted from friends' lists instead of physically harmed. Somehow, I think we'd need mental and physical harm to manifest themselves as part of the social networking experience. Until then, Hamas can Superpoke the IDF and we can all write on Castro's Wall, wishing him well and tagging him in dug up old photos of him in his youth.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Anonymity Therapy
Officially known as the 'Witness Protection Program.' Unofficially, it should be considered a form of therapy.
I see value in being forced to live amongst the unfamiliar. There are too many mental triggers that go off when you look at a familiar street name, a coffee shop, or the same face that serves you coffee every morning, on the dot. I sometimes cannot glance down a street I frequent without being overcome with a feeling of obligation - to what, I can't always pinpoint - that serves as a reminder that I am tied to, needed by, even the things I consider to have little immediate value to my daily agenda.
Anonymity is the tool that allows us to be introspective; instead of imprisoning ourselves up in a dark room and meditating, or attempting to procure a slice of silence throughout our day so we can 'think' to ourselves, we can do the same so long as nobody recognizes us and every element of our environment is foreign to our five senses.
I'd like to try this out by taking a small boat in the middle of the ocean, which I think is currently the only compromise, but I'm sure the Coast Guard would interrupt my therapy session.
I see value in being forced to live amongst the unfamiliar. There are too many mental triggers that go off when you look at a familiar street name, a coffee shop, or the same face that serves you coffee every morning, on the dot. I sometimes cannot glance down a street I frequent without being overcome with a feeling of obligation - to what, I can't always pinpoint - that serves as a reminder that I am tied to, needed by, even the things I consider to have little immediate value to my daily agenda.
Anonymity is the tool that allows us to be introspective; instead of imprisoning ourselves up in a dark room and meditating, or attempting to procure a slice of silence throughout our day so we can 'think' to ourselves, we can do the same so long as nobody recognizes us and every element of our environment is foreign to our five senses.
I'd like to try this out by taking a small boat in the middle of the ocean, which I think is currently the only compromise, but I'm sure the Coast Guard would interrupt my therapy session.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
(Middle) Ground (Zero)
I sat through a talk yesterday - ok, I stood, as "host" - given by a prominent Bay Area entrepreneur. I listened. I took mental notes as furiously as I saw pens scribbling and laptop keys transcribing wisdom-nuggets. The room was packed with Charles Schwab and Suze Orman proteges. I was disappointed at what I heard.
There has been a slow death of the Opinion and a rise in the Middle Ground, the compromise that tries to keep all ears happy and appears to be the more intellectually superior alternative to the stereotypically narrow scope of the lone opinion. That's a shame; I'm surrounded by Middle Ground these days: reversible clothing, interdisciplinary majors, "full-service" services, sweet & sour. Come on, the "breakfast sandwich" ? I can't remember the last time I heard a solid, abrasive opinion. Are people too exhausted to defend their viewpoints? Can we outsource that task, too?
During the Q&A session I heard many honest, specific questions. I'm of the belief that specific questions deserve specific answers, useful or not, intellectual-sounding or not, because a vague response that covers the spectrum of possible responses is of no more use than a rhetorical question given as the response itself.
The climax of irony for the evening: "I don't like to take risks."
- (visiting entrepreneur)
I wonder if the speaker was able to delegate risk-taking for the past 25 years and what risk-evading venture capitalists fund middle-ground ventures. Maybe the fact that I can't think of any says enough. Really, what tech venture (the speaker's company) is stuck at 'startup' status after 11 years? I should've asked, "Does Moore's Law stutter?"
There has been a slow death of the Opinion and a rise in the Middle Ground, the compromise that tries to keep all ears happy and appears to be the more intellectually superior alternative to the stereotypically narrow scope of the lone opinion. That's a shame; I'm surrounded by Middle Ground these days: reversible clothing, interdisciplinary majors, "full-service" services, sweet & sour. Come on, the "breakfast sandwich" ? I can't remember the last time I heard a solid, abrasive opinion. Are people too exhausted to defend their viewpoints? Can we outsource that task, too?
During the Q&A session I heard many honest, specific questions. I'm of the belief that specific questions deserve specific answers, useful or not, intellectual-sounding or not, because a vague response that covers the spectrum of possible responses is of no more use than a rhetorical question given as the response itself.
The climax of irony for the evening: "I don't like to take risks."
- (visiting entrepreneur)
I wonder if the speaker was able to delegate risk-taking for the past 25 years and what risk-evading venture capitalists fund middle-ground ventures. Maybe the fact that I can't think of any says enough. Really, what tech venture (the speaker's company) is stuck at 'startup' status after 11 years? I should've asked, "Does Moore's Law stutter?"
Sunday, March 9, 2008
High-Def Highs
I had a high-definition camera shoved down my throat Friday morning. I can't imagine people liking anything shoved down their esophagus (you try writing the plural form of that) regardless of the limitless cranberry juice and saltines they are entitled to post-procedure which, by the way, somehow restore electrolyte balance better than any I.V. bag ever could. Even with a fully numbed field of taste buds and lips that seemed to weigh a quarter-pound each from their numbness, I had to eat something and swore I could think back to whatever the food tasted like at some point in order to convince myself that I was in fact eating; my upper GI tract wouldn't be cooperating for another 24 hours.
The doctor met me in the procedure room which was ice cold. According to the nurses, this was to keep 'bacteria from proliferating.' Right, because bacterium go on a labor strike at 10 degrees below normal room temperature. If you are about to perform a medical procedure on someone, you should be keeping them comfortable and I don't mean simply offering them a warm blanket (I declined).
The fun part of this is always in seeing how high you can count to after they administer anesthesia and before you completely pass out. I think my record is 72 seconds. I remember making a 'roofie' joke to the doctor before passing out, asking if he'd call me the morning after. I saw a smirk then remember waking up with a headache and my wallet untouched, which means either he can somehow identify a maxed-out Visa card or he is still shy after all we've been through.
What they should do for patients, I mean to really capitalize off of this whole 'digital age' thing, is to offer the HD footage of their insides in video Podcast format. If you can't be awake for the whole thing, you should have the option of viewing it from the beginning - Tivo style - on your little portable media player (as I carefully tip-toe around the shameless plug for App...oops, there we go again). And because full motion video of your insides is just so, well, gross, it has built in Search Engine Optimization potential; the amount of traffic such 'train wreck' entertainment would bring means a gold mine of advertising space for the site hosting the footage. Imagine dating profiles based off 30-second endoscopy clips: "Hi, Mandy! I think we have the same esophageal scar tissue caused by our GERD!"
And how could I forget my nurses? I will cash in all my karma next time and tell one how I am pretty sure the anesthesia isn't supposed to wear off so soon, but if she would join me for a cup of coffee at the cafeteria, it would take my mind off the pain. And she'd still have to push me in a wheelchair and refill my Ocean Spray. Ah, the other side of blackmail...the side you're not on!
The doctor met me in the procedure room which was ice cold. According to the nurses, this was to keep 'bacteria from proliferating.' Right, because bacterium go on a labor strike at 10 degrees below normal room temperature. If you are about to perform a medical procedure on someone, you should be keeping them comfortable and I don't mean simply offering them a warm blanket (I declined).
The fun part of this is always in seeing how high you can count to after they administer anesthesia and before you completely pass out. I think my record is 72 seconds. I remember making a 'roofie' joke to the doctor before passing out, asking if he'd call me the morning after. I saw a smirk then remember waking up with a headache and my wallet untouched, which means either he can somehow identify a maxed-out Visa card or he is still shy after all we've been through.
What they should do for patients, I mean to really capitalize off of this whole 'digital age' thing, is to offer the HD footage of their insides in video Podcast format. If you can't be awake for the whole thing, you should have the option of viewing it from the beginning - Tivo style - on your little portable media player (as I carefully tip-toe around the shameless plug for App...oops, there we go again). And because full motion video of your insides is just so, well, gross, it has built in Search Engine Optimization potential; the amount of traffic such 'train wreck' entertainment would bring means a gold mine of advertising space for the site hosting the footage. Imagine dating profiles based off 30-second endoscopy clips: "Hi, Mandy! I think we have the same esophageal scar tissue caused by our GERD!"
And how could I forget my nurses? I will cash in all my karma next time and tell one how I am pretty sure the anesthesia isn't supposed to wear off so soon, but if she would join me for a cup of coffee at the cafeteria, it would take my mind off the pain. And she'd still have to push me in a wheelchair and refill my Ocean Spray. Ah, the other side of blackmail...the side you're not on!
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