Don’t Link to Your Blog. Ever.

(Anita: Don’t read this. It’ll just piss you off. This warning is only for Anita. And it’s only on account of you don’t want me to worry so much what other people think. I don’t think it is a generally pissing-off kind of post.)


I have recently started hanging out a fair amount on Google+. I like G+ a lot; the structure of the posts with threading, and the ability to make and find public posts makes it a good place to meet new folks, find new readers, and find new conversational partners. It’s great for that. I go there to look for interesting writers and to post my own links. That’s what I’m there for.

So, yesterday, one of the Big Names (that is to say, somebody whose followers run into the thousands who gets referred to a lot by the other Big Names) that I follow told the people that she follows that she didn’t grant them permission to “pitch” her on their social networks, and said that she wanted us not to post links to our blogs, because if she wanted to read them, she’d be reading them already. Note that this was not a request not to send her links directly, but not to even post them to our public streams because that is like standing on a street corner trying to get people to come into our restaurants. If she wanted the food, she’d come in, already. Then she asked, “What does this bring up in you?”

So, before I go on, let me put this in context. This is part of a wider, “Blogging is dead,” zeitgeist that seems to be developing among the well-established:

Blogging lacks intimacy. People’s posts are either generic or stop short of what they could be if only the writers weren’t feeling confined by their social context. Real writers are sending directly to the inbox, only via permission, and all this blogging people are doing (so 2010) is messing up our public spaces.

Oh. And (from another writer) if people aren’t sharing your writing, it’s probably because it sucks, and if you just keep doing it for a few more years so you’ve had enough life experience and you learn to actually write and have some ideas, then maybe it will be interesting enough for me to bother sending a link your way. (This last one was from a twenty-something online-something expert. He’s single. He travels the world solo. He doesn’t blog any more. It doesn’t meet his needs.)

What does this bring up in me??? 275 posts later I’ve got 25 subscribers and now I’m not even supposed to try and find any new readers? What it brings up in me? I suck. Nobody wants to read my writing. If I were any good, I’d be “successful” by now. How dare I continue to pollute the world with my ideas??? I’ve been compared to a huckster flogging bad food that she crosses the street to avoid. I felt sucker punched. I felt like throwing up.

So, yeah. It brought stuff up.

And then (after several minutes of “I suck” angst) I thought, “How dare she tell me that I’m not allowed to offer my ideas to the world in a public forum? One in which she can make me disappear with a single click of the mouse. If she needs quiet that badly, why is she following all of us???”

The thing is, she writes about non-violent communication and boundaries.

Meditate. Breathe deeply. Talk it out for several hours. Non-violent communication and boundaries. She has the right to ask for something to meet a perceived need in herself. I have the right to say, “No.” I don’t even have to justify my, “no,” but in this case, I will. She has it entirely within her control whether she sees my public posts or not. I don’t have to do anything to change that. In my perception, she has made up a rule about public behaviour, and then applied it to the world around her, and then told us that we are rude for breaking it. I think that her asking me (us) to change my (our) (arguably perfectly reasonable, possibly even intended) behaviour for her comfort crosses a boundary into a presumed intimacy. THIS is why I’m so upset. At least, it is my best guess of why I’m so upset. I’m sure that several hours of therapy could add layers upon layers of upsettedness, but I’ve already spent an entire day on this, and I need to move on now. (This has spawned another entire post about whether blogging is, in fact, dead, or whether some of the super-bloggers, having already reaped its rewards, are maybe not in the best position to declare what the rest of us should be doing… but I digress.)

My online writing and social media use meets some of my needs for social and intellectual connection. I want to talk about strange esoteric things and explore challenging intellectual constructs. I don’t have employment in any of the careers I was trained for. I have three kids. I live in a rural community, which means that I have lots of access to personal interactions, that they know me at the post office, and that the new school principal already knew what my son’s extracurricular interests were. I’m pretty happy with my life. But it does somewhat limit my opportunities to stay up drinking beer and talking about… y’know. Grad school pub stuff. I get my grad school pub stuff by meeting strangers on the internet and striking up a conversation… like in grad school, but with less hand waving. And less beer. And less hand-waving-beer-sloshing. If they (the friends I haven’t met yet) aren’t sharing their links, I will never have the chance to meet them. And if I don’t share my links, my poor little baby ideas will sit here languishing, unread and unloved. Poor ideas. This makes me sad.

Fly little ideas. Make friends! Find other ideas! Make new ideas. (I kind of live in a universe where ideas have form, and it is my responsibility to nourish them the same way I do plants and pets.) And if you don’t want to see my ideas, please look somewhere else, rather than asking me to shut up, no matter how politely you do it.

‘K. Thanks. Bye.

PostADay is 1/3 done

They tell me over at PostADay that we are 1/3 of the way there. Well, I’m 1/3 minus 2, or something. I think that there were a couple of days there with bonus posts, so it will all even out in the end. Also, if you’ve been with me for the long haul, you’ve probably noticed that I have a tendency towards the 1500 word post… that’s gotta count for something.

So, the prompt for the day is to pick our own three favourite posts since the beginning of the year. Let’s see… three posts. Give me a minute or six while I review… Oooh. Totally self-indulgent and self-referential… Recursive blogging! Yay! Math jokes and writing in the same post!

Okay. Three earnest posts:

  1. It’s very recent, but since I think that Earth Day should be every day, I give you a reprise of The Living Earth: A Meditation in Science and Reverence
  2. A post in which I suggest that we need a new aesthetic, one that goes beneath the surface, one that gives us Beauty, All the Way Down.
  3. And in the same vein, which I guess is the earnest entreaty for life, I also wrote a Litany for Agnostics.

My three favourite picture posts

  1. Winter Evergreen
  2. What I watch instead of TV
  3. And, why there is was a giant pair of pants on my front lawn (before the final ice storm).

And, for a bonus, the post in which I attempt to get a laugh out of German philosophy. ‘Cause I’m that daring.

You know what stat I really want?

This is a self-referential post, although I have managed to avoid making it recursive. For now. Check back later.

I have been watching the stats on my blog with interest. (Oh, c’mon, bloggers. You know you do it, too.) They have been increasing consistently since I started posting on a regular basis last fall, and really started going up when I started posting daily. When I began, I knew who was reading, because they only knew the blog was here because I told them. Friends, family. Then friends of friends and casual acquaintances started mentioning it when I ran into them downtown. It is a little disconcerting having somebody ask, “Was the wildlife park very busy on Thursday?” when you haven’t seen them for weeks, but I’m learning to roll with it.

For example, I bumped into someone at the library, and commented that I had enjoyed the book she was checking out. She said, “Oh, I know. I read your review. That’s why I’m reading it.” It’s a little surreal, like maybe my brain has started going off and having some other virtual life that my body had been left out of. I’m just going along, eating my supper, and meanwhile the writing is off catching up with other people on some other time scale. Maybe that’s what’s so addictive about it. It’s kind of like having extra time!

It’s pretty exciting meeting somebody completely new via the internet, starting up conversations, going back and forth between blogs. Every now and then, it seems, somebody comes along and reads a lot of my posts in rapid succession (I assume that this is what happens on days with high hits, but where each post has only one reader. Actually, that was what prompted this post. Hi, person, if you are in the middle of doing that. Stop and say hello! Even if you are my mom, or something.)

But you know what I really want to know is… how many words are in my blog? How much have I written? I suspect that by the end of the year I will be up into the 225,000 word range. This pleases me, and it feels more like something I can put a goal on. It’s like producing the volume of a really big book, only without those pesky problems of consistent voice, or internal coherence, or Actually Writing A Book. Don’t get me wrong, I like having readers. I’ll admit that I feel a little weird having “readers”; it feels pretentious, or something. But it makes it feel more like I’m doing something, which, as I mentioned a couple of days ago can be a bit of a problem. (Oh. That was just yesterday. OK, so it’s a recurring theme this week then.) Getting people to read is awesome, but I don’t really have much control over that. What I do have control over is the effort, so the stats of how much I’ve put into it turn out to be valuable to me. They may even exist, but I haven’t yet managed to put my hands/mouse on them.

In the dark of the night, when I am making much-too-long to-do lists, this is the sort of thing that makes me think, “Maybe I should move over to a .org site.” Not so much the particular question, but the fact that once I got up to speed, I’m sure I could throw together a script that would tell me that in an afternoon*. I can see the metadata Right There… But then I’d be programming, not writing. Curiosity would kill this cat blog, although it might have a lot more features.

Gee, she wondered aloud. I wonder whether anybody at WordPress noticed this post…


* Only I probably wouldn’t have to, because I’m sure somebody else already wanted to know the same thing.

Off My Game

I keep starting new posts, and they get so big and out of control and problematic, and I’ve written myself into a corner and I can’t find my way back out and, OH!

It is the sheer amount of input. I’m overwhelmed, trying to make sense of natural disasters, a flood of articles sent my way about violence against women and children, and whether I still have the right to worry about the ongoing need to simply maintain my home against the encroachments of wind, water, and time. I note the horrible state of the roads around here, which have been left unrepaired for years, and ponder deferred maintenance in a wealthy state as a symptom of decline, part of our larger deficit to later generations. It also reminds me of my own leaky house, unplanted seeds, and the ubiquitous “check engine” light, which is now on in all three cars temporarily in my care. The disorder in the broader world is mirrored in my home, in my life, in my own experience of entropy, and I don’t know where to start in my defense against it.

Add to that an inability to turn away from the ongoing coverage of the nuclear fires, radiation releases, meltdowns (or not meltdowns – the exact story is still developing). This is not due to a turning away from the human suffering in the existing disaster (as one person suggested on my Twitter feed) but due to a desperate attempt to keep my mind around an ongoing slow-motion potential disaster, which was averted… No! It wasn’t! Yes! Maybe?! Is is a triumph of containment or the second biggest nuclear accident in history (probably both). What does it say that this story is playing out at all? What does it mean?

And thus is writing thwarted. Not writing, as in: the production of words on screen/page. But writing, as in: coherent narrative, finished product, story… meaning. Rage against entropy. 300 words on Despair, Virginia Woolf, and my own battle with depression, 650 on the presence of contaminants in our environment, and how we are made of the very stuff we eat and breathe (thus suggesting, perhaps, we should stop poisoning it). 20 lines on this, a snippet on that, captured, evanescent meaning, the stuff of dreams. Like star stuff. Like life. Slipping through my fingers like so much melted music…

The Story of Me Us

Via Chris Brogan, who said that it is important to keep telling the story of you to new readers. And probably to old ones, too.

Below is the comment I left in response to the original post on Chris Brogan’s site. I know? Bold, eh? Hey, he asked.


I’m a relative newcomer to “New Media,” although I have lived my life in computer land . After making sure I avoided it at university, it turned out to be a) something that I was pretty good at, and b) something that paid. It’s still sort of like first aid: when I see a need for a technical solution at a non-technical job I’m working on, I hold back to see whether somebody better at it is going to come along first. But… since I’ve been on the internet since ’93, and have worked in both online education and e-commerce, I tend to wind up with the job. Again.

It’s OK, though, because the internet has evolved. I used to try to get out of the computer work because it involved long hours hunched over a keyboard with very little human interaction. I was doing a lot of programming, debugging, and invoicing, when I really wanted to be helping people find meaning. I have come to think of myself (and all of us, really) as storytellers, doing the best we can to create a life that matters. For me, this has meant leaving the lab, getting out of science, and stepping into a world of complexity where none of the answers are certain. It has been a leap of faith, of sorts, to relinquish the clarity provided by experimental physics and to trade it in for storytelling, philosophy and meditation. But as it happens, there is an entire online community doing the same thing: telling their stories, sharing them, making sense collectively. So I’m a lot more willing to get to the keyboard these days.

I told my oldest son once that we tell stories to find out what might be true. We might think that we are simply communicating our best understanding, but by putting it out into the world, we are laying it bare for examination. We may (underneath it all) hope that people will come along and say, “Yes! This! This is just what I’ve been looking for!” But this just shows me that some part of us still doubts. We want/need that feedback, even while we fear the criticism that may shake the core of the story. But we have to keep telling them, because humans only exist in relationship, and stories only exist in conversation.


Oh. If you’ve been with me for a while: Online Education. That’s what I used to teach to other professionals. Broadly speaking. Although it was at the course/curriculum design scale, rather than at the nuts and bolts of the website scale.

Also, I had so much fun with this, I would encourage you to do the same. Let me know if you do and I’ll link up, or put it in the comments. I want to hear your story also!

Blogging our voyages

PostAday Bonus!

Originally titled, “Still True”


(From the XKCD Site: This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 License.
This means you’re free to copy and share these comics (but not to sell them). More details.)

Last night I dreamed that I was driving around the world with my children. I was picking them up from a summer camp/dig at the pyramids in Egypt, and trying to figure out the next stage of the journey, and I thought, “Surely *this* is good enough for Freshly Pressed!”

Yes, I am rolling my eyes at myself.

Taking a Deep Breath

On social media conflagrations.

OK. Yesterday, I was writing about the moral legitimacy of a particular trademark. Understandably, there has been a social media firestorm over this issue, as people feel that their contributions have been marginalized. In return, the owner of the trademarks has issued a press release accusing the bloggers of the community of being “slanderous” and “malicious,” and claiming that the whole issue is based on a misunderstanding and rumours.

As happens in these situations, the rhetoric keeps climbing, with some people ‘armed for bear’, seeking not only to restore the common use of the phrase urban homesteading, but to punish the Dervaes family. They really have been called all kinds of names, and some people have suggested a global boycott of their websites. Also, some of their… um. Let’s say, odder/adamant beliefs have been called into question.

So, in the midst of the conflagration, it is important to see the trees and the forest. I understand how, when we are angry, we sometimes want to destroy the object of our anger. But that is not constructive, and I, for one, would like to be very clear about my desires and goals. I do not want the Dervaes family destroyed, put out of business, or even maligned. Even though they implied that as a blogger, I was unconcerned with the truth… and that pisses me off a bit. You know. Just a bit.

I think that the analysis of the moral right of the Dervaes family to be the sole beneficiaries of the work of a movement is a perfectly legitimate part of discourse. The textual analysis of the documents being produced by the Dervaes family – also legitimate. Calling for their obliteration? Over the top. Expressing frustration that they don’t seem to be able to see that other people have contributed? Totally fair.

Unfortunately, they have lumped together all legitimate discussion into the category of unprovoked attack: “there has been a heated argument in the media against what should have been the Dervaeses’ normal rights to protect their trademarks.” Actually, what has been primarily up for debate isn’t whether they have a right to protect their trademarks. It is whether they had the right to register those trademarks in the first place. It is this claim in the press release that is in question: “While they did not come up with the name Urban Homesteading®, they defined its current, specific application.”

Then they have grouped us all together into a massive uninformed blob: “Whereas professional reporters substantiate their news before publishing stories and are careful not to make slanderous statements, bloggers have no editors and often demonstrate little or no interest in supporting their claims with fact.” I, for one, spent about 10 hours yesterday looking at the language of the letter that they sent, researching trademark laws and the in and outs, checking the stories out and double checking. I stand by my work.

Could you live without the internet?

For a change of pace, I’m going to answer the Plinky question. It’s not for want of ideas, it’s just a good question.

No suspense here: Yes. I could totally live without the internet. Unlike TV, cell phones, and constant access to music all around the clock, though, I wouldn’t *choose* to. We have a long and complex relationship, the internet and I. (I might have asked the real estate agent whether we could get high speed here as I was signing the offer to purchase. You know. Maybe.)

I started using Mozilla in 1993. My classmate at school came into the computer lab, walked up behind me and said, “Click that icon down there.” Which I did.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s called the World Wide Web. You can look at computers all over the world.”

“Like what?”

“Oh,” she said. “Newspapers and stuff.” So I looked to see how much an apartment in Sydney, Australia would cost, and I was hooked.

It wasn’t my first exposure to such an idea. As I mentioned in my post on repetitive stress, I have been using a connection to the outside world since it was a 1200 baud modem and the interaction was green text on a black background. (Boing, boing, boing, anyone?) I have booted computers from tape drives. I know about Peek and Poke, API’s and transfer protocols. I have written code to connect one website to another invisibly. I wrote a course (plus some workshops) on the integration of internet technologies into the university classroom. I am, as I claim on my Twitter account (and my resume), tech-savvy. But when I talk about this, I ask you to bear in mind that I am also a Luddite, insofar as I am highly selective about which technologies I deploy in my life. I still use the phone book, for example.

I primarily use the internet to meet human needs, and particular ones at that. I find that it is best at helping me with my needs for beauty, meaning, and human connection, but it is not my only source for any of those things. Some of my most valued social interactions are mediated by this medium, through cyber-representations of the people in it, whether blogs, tweets, status updates, or the movies they make.

Some of the people I know face to face. We use the internet to organize, maintain social contacts, and share ideas. It is how I came to be in the upcoming production of the Vagina Monologues, for example. But many of my internet contacts I know only through our online interactions, and I value these connections. [I started to list the people I would miss in this category, but it got too long.] I would be more isolated without these people, with their diverse and cosmopolitan views of the world. They keep me connected to the urban professional world I have wandered away from and are significant contributors to helping me make sense of it all. I would be devastated to lose their insights. I think that the internet is one of the things worth preserving, and one of the great opportunities for social reform and human flourishing. But would I live without it? Yes.

One of the things that remains surprising to me is how not-wired I had remained until the last few months. I have had an LJ blog for about 5 years, but I never was much of a regular poster. I started this public blog slightly over two years ago, but for a long time, I didn’t know what to put on it, so I barely ever updated it. I had a cell phone for about a year somewhere around 2001, but I never used it so I got rid of it. I didn’t start using Facebook in earnest until I started writing in earnest, because I couldn’t think of what to use it for. The internet, the phone, and computers are tools. If I can’t think of a use for them, I don’t use them. I would no more play with my computer than I would play with my pliers. The computer space was where I worked, and when I came home, I turned it off.

The world I currently inhabit is an odd one, with one foot in the virtual world, and one foot in the physical. I was recently at a meeting at which it was joked that “Only women with chickens were welcome.” It wasn’t a meeting for women with chickens, but every one of us around the table is raising them. The meeting was arranged online, and the minutes were distributed by email. The missing pieces of information we needed were procured from government websites, which are liberally peppered through the documents. But we use this technology to exchange ideas about saving seed, building greenhouses, and organizing local food systems.

There are definite advantages to keeping one foot in this world of the not-really-wired-much-at-all, because it keeps me grounded. It reminds me that the world will keep turning if I miss my post-a-day (although I haven’t yet.) If I lost touch, I might miss a meeting. I would no longer be able to find things out at the touch of a button. “Ask the internet!” regularly resounds through my home. I would miss that. But my real needs, for beauty, meaning, and connection, would still be met. I would still have Buddhists, and Pagans, and urbanites, and radical moms, and homeschoolers, and breastfeeding, cloth-diapering home-birthers, and queer-folk in my life. Just… not so many of them. And I would feel the loss.

Oh, internet. Please don’t vanish. We would miss you. You can tell from the kerfuffle about limiting our access this week. But yes. My life would continue without you.

Just, please, don’t take my phone… ‘k?

Word Wrangling

I’m having a weird high-tech/low-tech moment. Here I am, curled up in an easy chair in front of a woodstove with a cat in my lap, and writing. But not with a pen and paper; here I am, writing on a laptop that is connected to the rest of the world only through the power of mysterious waves emanating from a device in the office at the other end of the building. And this is the rhythm of my life: chop wood, turn on computer. Cook dinner, order spices through internet. Snuggle child to sleep, check on situation in Egypt, watch Monsanto’s inexorable slide towards controlling the entire food supply.

It has been a week of writer’s block, mainly. It’s not that I have run out of things to say; it is that ideas run over, tumbling against one another, unruly thoughts, each demanding the largest part of my attention… until I sit down to capture them, when they scurry away, pell-mell, to be replaced by whims and the internet. Ever so much easier to read somebody else’s thoughts than to try to pin down these frisky critters flung about all over the tableau of my psyche. Take this post, for example. I was going to write about how my life is so much less automated than it used to be when I realized the absurdity of the situation. Well, yes, we have to cover the windows and bring in firewood. We have to open and close the chicken coop on a daily basis, and clear the solar panels to keep the computer charged (although we have a completely functional electrical grid hooked up to the plug below my desk.) Yet the knowledge of the world is at my fingertips, I can see/hear the music I want, catch snippets of movies, confirm precise quotes, look up whatever book arrived at the edge of my awareness and place an order for it without leaving my desk. This is a strange and ridiculous juxtaposition that lays waste to my original thesis, but illustrates my problem with rampant ideas.

I have over a dozen posts in draft, but I can’t quite make them work for any number of reasons. Most of them are slippery things, playing just around the edge of my abilities and knowledge. Big questions, thorny questions, questions of human motivation, social construction of knowledge, science and religion, race relations in Canada. Arguments and explorations that turn on subtleties of language, precise definitions, and making clear my assumptions… Is that claim too sweeping? Under what circumstances might this be true? How is class/privilege tied up in this issue? Can I call him a prick without being crass?

There is a math joke about two professors. One professor is working on a proof, and he has written it on the board in his office. His colleague comes by, looks at the board, and says, “Oh! It’s obvious.” The first professor sits down at his desk to think about it. Every day for a week, he comes in, sits down and looks at the proof, ponders it, considers, writes down a few lines and goes back home. At the end of the week, he smacks himself on the forehead. “It  is obvious!”

I had a similar conversation with an English professor this summer. He said that by the time you’ve worked with ideas long enough to integrate them into your thinking, they become so obvious that they no longer seem worth reporting. Only, he also pointed out, this reasoning is flawed. Clearly they now are “obvious” to you, but the ways in which they fit into your own worldview and the ways in which they are new contributions can get lost in the process of thinking them through. Which is why, right this moment, I’m working on showing up. Writing, whether it works or not. Thinking, whether it is true or not. Struggling with the words, getting them down… having faith that they will eventually hang together. Or the deadline will hit, and they will have to do.

Not Your Regular Blog Tips

This post is intended for those of you who have signed up to provide the world with a post every day. For the year. First, just let me ask: What were you thinking? (My answer is over here.)

Since you’ve signed up for the ultramarathon of blogging, I wanted to share with you some of the things I have learned from years of sitting at a computer keyboard. Therefore, today’s post is about avoiding repetitive stress injuries. It falls into the category of “Doing as I say, not as I do.” Or, more gently, “Here, learn from my mistakes.”

Here are a set of three videos that I recently recorded about repetitive stress injuries, with an emphasis on preventing them. I am not a health professional; these are based on my own experience as a computer worker for the last 22 years. I said several times in the videos, but I will reiterate it here… if you need professional advice, please seek it sooner rather than later. It is much easier to prevent than to treat.

Part 1: Introduction

Key points

  • RSI can impact your entire body
  • It is difficult to treat
  • It is the #1 cause of workplace injuries (so “they” tell me)

Part 2: Ergonomics

Key points

  • Pay attention to keyboard and mouse height, as well as the monitor
  • Consider alternate input devices such as
    • Ergonomic or split keyboards
    • Tablets (with or without pen inputs)
    • I forgot about track balls and the like
  • Take advantage of built in accessibility software and learn voice commands. Also, that way you can do Scotty’s joke from Star Trek 4. If you happen to be old enough to remember that one.

Part 3: Better Habits

Key points

  • Take frequent breaks
  • Do your stretches!
  • Check your posture and consider exercise to improve it
  • Eat better to reduce inflammation in your tissues
  • Treat your body as though you are pursuing an athletic task, because you are!

I find I neglected to mention my most obvious strategy: Try out other forms of media. Give YouTube a whirl. Scan a drawing. Try out cartooning. Or puppet shows. Make one or two posts a week that are mainly photos. Lateral thinking is key here… But only if it reduces your keyboard time. Good luck! (14/362)

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 271 other followers