The Pornification of the Internet

I woke up this morning to find some of my favorite sites "on strike" in protest of SOPA and PIPA. It gives on a feel for how the web could be if these laws were passed. Most sites linked to Congress so that visitors could write their local representatives. Excellent! I wrote a letter and did a little more research on SOPA and PIPA. I knew of the proposed laws from other blogs and podcasts I follow, but I tend to skip the videos because of my slow internet connection at home. However, today I watched them - let the buffering continue.

One I checked, suspecting it was about SOPA and PIPA, was the following. (Thanks to my friend Marianne for posting it.) Pay special attention to the imagery in the first two minutes of the video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFh5F8cFb3g&feature=share

Whoh! Not what I suspected, but Right on Sister! My sister and I just had this conversation. She is worried about her daughter growing up in a world in which she is valued only for her body and looks. I went to the organization's website; made a note to do a little more research on the organization. Then I jotted down the date of the movie's screening thinking, if I had the money, I would go see it.

Then I continued looking for a good video about the laws to post on my Facebook page. I found this one which gives a pretty good explanation.

http://vimeo.com/31100268

I don't love Viemo because their videos take so long to play - it took me about 20 minutes to watch this video. The video stopped to buffer just after 15 seconds: "But the new bill proposes we give the power to censor the internet to the entertainment industry." (Emphasis mine.)

Are you freaking kidding me? We give censorship rights to the same group of companies responsible for the "bling-bling" culture we live in? We let the entertainment industry determine if material is "pirated"? Is it possible that they could take down sites which don't play well in our mixed up society claiming piracy? Maybe yes, maybe no. But do we want to take that chance?

Write you representatives in Congress to say "No" to SOPA and PIPA. Wikipedia provides an easy link to do so: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_out

And yes, I realize that I could be considered a pirate for linking to the above videos. Come get me. You will, however, be disappointed. My image is not that titillating.

Christmas Suprise

On Christmas day, while I was waiting for my dad to pick me up to go to my sister's place, I went to check my mail. Hanging from my mailbox was this Christmas ornament tin.



Taped to the tin was an empty envelope with my name written on it. I took it off the mailbox and shook it. "Sounds like candy in there," I thought. "Probably Hershey's Kisses." I dropped the ornament in my bag of gifts and waited for my ride.

"Well, I could use a little chocolate treat, " I thought and fished the ornament out. I worked the tin open looking forward to the candy I knew must be in there. When I got the tin open, this is what I found.



"There's money in here," I said out loud and closed the tin back up. I looked at the envelope that was taped to the front. I was my name though it was written in a handwriting I didn't recognize. The envelope itself was empty. I open the tin back up, thinking maybe I just imagined it. Nope, the money was still there - 4 twenties and 2 tens. There was no card in the tin.

Someone gave me a Christmas gift but I don't know who it is from. I'd like to say thank you, but I don't know who to thank. I'm not even sure if I should accept a gift like this. (The money, not the candy - I'm keeping the candy.)

So, to the Santa who left it, thank you for the gift.

Christmas 1991

In December 1991 I pulled out the Christmas decorations. That may not seem like such a strange thing to do in December, but it was unusual for that year. I June of 1991 my mother passed away and I wasn't sure how Christmas would go that year. My mother always made a big production of Christmas - baking cookies (that she thought were hidden from us), making my Dad put up the tree and lights, cooking and shopping. But this year, none of that would happen unless someone else did it. I left the cookie baking to my sister, who is better at it than me, and pulled out the tree and decorations.

In one of the boxes I found a small white box with a snowflake design on it. When I opened it I found an envelope with "1990" written on it in my mother's handwriting. (My mother was left-handed, but one would never know from her handwriting.)I took out the envelope and found another marked "1989", then another marked "1988", then another... Inside those envelopes where Christmas cards; the card the Carpenter family sent out each year from 1954 to 1990.

I eventually ended up with that box of cards (along with other special items from the family home) when my Dad sold the house. I always thought it would be nice to preserve these electronically, but I wasn't sure how and didn't have the time.

This year I do have the time so I thought I'd create a video of the cards. This would not be easy. I don't have the most up-to-date software on my computer. I don't have Adobe Flash which would be the first choice for creating an electronic video. I have a seven year old version of Adobe Photoshop (Photoshop CS, no numbers after it), an even older version of Adobe Illustrator (version 7), and a four year old version of Camtasia Studio (version 3).

Its taking a lot of time, good thing I started early, but here is a beginning iteration. This is a low-resolution version as Blogger will not allow the high-resolution version. (Too big.)

Weight...Oh! Gone...

I was cleaning house over the weekend and decided to get rid of some of the junk that has been accumulating. I wanted to start small - something I could do in a day. Something I could accomplish like the SMART goals I use to have to make for work. (SMART goals are specific (S), measurable (M), attainable (A), relevant (R), and timely (T) see SMART goals for more information.)

I decided to start with the medicine cabinet and the cabinet in the bathroom. You know the places - the one where all those travel-size bottles of shower gel and body lotion accumulate. The place where that jumbo, bargain bottle of Advil expires because you don't have enough headaches to use it all.

I found tons of that stuff. Some of it pushed to the back of the cabinet, sitting there since I moved in. In the process I decided to actually weigh the amount of junk I was getting rid of. That totaled nine pounds! That felt great; purging nine pounds of clutter. Now I actually have room in the cabinet to store my blow-dryer, combs, assorted hair accessories, etc.

So I stood there looking at the bathroom scale. Stood there in the shorts that I almost had an "America's Funniest Home Video" moment in while walking to the corner store. Shorts that, last summer were too tight, but now I can take off without unzipping. Should I? Should I step on that scale?

Looking at the picture below you could see why I would not want to step on the scale.


Holy freakin' dog-mess batman! Is that me?

Yes. Yes, it is. This picture was taken a few years ago. My niece, who is now 6, was using the high-chair in the background. But...still...it probably wasn't too different from what I was seeing in the mirror six months ago.

Six months ago. Before I was riding my bike at least 4.4 miles a day, five days a week in order to get to work. Before I decided to cut all refined sugar and flour products from my life. Before I decided to eat mostly veggies, fruit and protein.

So, while holding my shorts up, I stepped on the scale. Thirty pounds. Gone. From me.

And nine pounds of baggage. Stuff I didn't need. Stuff I didn't even want anymore.

Thirty-nine pounds of junk that could never make me happy. Thirty-nine pounds of "fat" that only made me unhappy.

Now I just have to keep it up. Keep up both kinds of weight loss.

Who Writes This Stuff?

Lately I've been seeing a lot of...oh, lets say, strange posts on facebook. Many of them are from the "status of the moment" sites. The ones in which you can select from pre-written posts. A lot of those posts are funny, clever little sayings that are kind of fun. Others, well, they just reflect badly on the poster.

I saw this one today posted by someone and it is completely out of character for her. I know her as a pleasant, fun, sweet woman with a beautiful voice. This post is just not her and, I suspect, she was just having a rough day. I don't think she wrote this and I hope no one else re-posts it.

Alert - the grammar police are helping me write this blog. We all make mistakes and we all abuse the exclamation mark (!) and the ellipsis (...). But when the tone of the post is so self-centered and anti-social, its hard to ignore the punctuational abuse. If you abuse poor helpless punctuation marks like that, how do you treat human beings? (I've been known to abuse both myself.......... So sue me!!!)

A HANDFUL!! Unfortunately most women won't repost this. I'm strong willed, independent, a bit outspoken and I tell it like it is. I make mistakes, I am sometimes out of control & at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst... then you sure as heck don't deserve me at my best. If you're a HANDFUL, repost! I......... dare you! I'll be looking for the ladies who repost!

Nothing about this post says anything positive about the poster; it just sounds...well, mean and self-centered. Lets take a closer look.

"A HANDFUL!!" OK, one exclamation mark will do and you don't need to shout at me. I can hear you. Small children are a handful, and a wonderful handful at that, grown women should not be.

"Unfortunately most women won't repost this." Thank the Lord for that; who would want to? Oh, and its "re-post". Did you not see the red underline below the word? It signifies a misspelling; right click and fix it.

"I'm strong willed, independent, a bit outspoken and I tell it like it is." So you're stubborn, too good to ask for help when you need it, and rude. Nice, lets be friends.

"I make mistakes," But do you learn from them? Oh, and that's a comma splice. Look it up: Comma Splice.

"I am sometimes out of control & at times hard to handle." Sounds like a substance abuse issue.

"But if you can't handle me at my worst... then you sure as heck don't deserve me at my best." You have a "best"? I haven't heard anything good yet.

"If you're a HANDFUL, repost! I......... dare you!" Would you stop shouting at me, I just want to review my facebook news feed. I seriously doubt I would do anything you dare me to do - it could involve the police and fire departments. Oh, and the ellipsis has three periods. More doesn't make it better.

"I'll be looking for the ladies who repost!" Keep looking. Good luck with that.

So by now you are thinking, "What.......a bitch!!" Yes, OK, I'll give you that. I could have been a little more gentle. But, think of this. Every time something like that appears it reinforces the negative stereotype of women. A stereotype that, while I didn't create it and don't live according to it, I'm measured against. Men are afraid of me because of things like that. Really? Me?

I grew up in a time in which I was told, "You can do anything. The barriers are coming down. You just need to work hard at it, keep going, stay focused, etc." I know what the poster was trying to say, and its a noble thought, but choose your words more carefully.

So how would I say it? How about this:

I'm a strong, independent woman who isn't afraid to ask for help. I don't always say the right thing and, sometimes, you may not like what I have to say. I make mistakes, but I try to learn from them. I sometimes get angry or sad, but I try not to take it out on those I love. But if you can't accept me when I fail, then you don't need me when I succeed. If you're a strong woman re-post this. I'll be looking for all the women who do!

When Social Networks Collide

We all have heard of the "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" game in which one connects any actor to Kevin bacon. Its a fun game based on a real principal. (See Six Degrees of Separation ) I first heard of the "real", mathematical, social aspects of this while reading Malcolm Gladwell's book "The Tipping Point". An excellent book, by the way, particularly if you are interested in social media as I am.

Every morning I "set-up" my computer. Turn "the beast" on, log into my wireless network, and open my browser. My homepage is my personalized iGoogle page with a widget for my email. Then I open up tabs for facebook, LinkedIn, my Yahoo! mail account, and my Blogger dashboard. Then I might bookmark some interesting articles on my delicious account in order to read them later. Check out the simplyhired.com job website. Make a blog post, watch a video, have a quick chat via GoogleTalk.

I spend a lot of time in social networking. I have friends, contacts, links, videos, documents, and images out there "in the clouds". I shouldn't be surprised when I see friends and contacts collide, i.e. when people from different groups are connected. But I am.

About a year ago I noticed one of my facebook friends had just friended a new person and his name sounded familiar. When I checked him out I found that he was a long-time "real-life" friend of another of my friends - I'll call her Monica. Monica and I traveled a few times to watch this guy perform. (He is a musician.) I thought it interesting but thought the chances of it happening again were small. (Wrong. The chances are probably not that small.)

Then, just today, it happened again. I found a guy I went to school with is friended to one of my little brother's childhood friends. I don't know how they know each other, it can't be the "old neighborhood", high school, college or jobs. I don't even care how, I just think its cool. I love social media and I love the idea that I can keep in touch with people whom I might not be in contact with because of distance. Distance, both chronologically and geographically.

I have friends, family members, and colleagues who refuse to get on any social networks for a variety of reasons. Some of them include:

"If I don't talk to the person now, I don't need to talk to them." Really? You did talk to them at one time, perhaps everyday. You might have even been friends. Why not again?

If I want to talk to someone I'll call one the phone and meet up in person. People spend all their time online chatting and writing they never make any friends. How is a friendship, online, any different from a friendship carried out via mail? In the past entire friendships, romances even, were carried out via letters. To disregard all relationships that happen electronically is to disregard all relationships that don't happen face to face. What about the guy how works from home, a 1000 miles away from the office. Does he not have a relationship with his co-workers and the company? What about a woman serving in the military in another country? Are her electronic chats home to her husband and kids suspect because she isn't in the same room? And, NO, it isn't different.

Its so annoying when I'm with someone and all they are doing is checking facebook. Well, yes, you are right there. But those people are just rude, its not the problem with the media.

I don't want some old boyfriend to find me. Your old boyfriend can still find you whether you have an online presence or not. And what if he does? You DON'T have to friend/connect with him.

Who cares what a bunch of amateurs have to say? That stuff is so bad. Professionals need to be creating content for the world. Two words - "Reality TV" Nuff said.

I love social networking/media. For years we were forced to be simply consumers of media. Now we are consumers AND creators of media. (Shirky) I'd rather be making a youtube video than watching the junk on TV. I'd rather be trying to figure out how my facebook friends know each other. I'd rather be blogging.

References:

Clay Shirkey, Cognitive Surplus: Creativity and Generosity in a Connected Age, 2010 Tantor Press.

Time to Come Clean

Back in June a friend of mine passed away. Suddenly, unexpectedly. He was only 47 years old. It freaked me out. People my age should not be dying. We are suppose to be inventing cool things like Google. Or building things, or doing anything.

He wasn't my best friend, nor was I his. But he was always fun to hang around with, easy to hang around with.

I've been recording my memories in this blog but in the third person because it was just to sad to write in first person. But I think its time to change that and come clean. These are my memories that I would like to share.

When I first met Donny, he kept telling me that I shouldn't listen to what people said about him. If I heard something I should come to him. It wasn't until after he died that I was able to put the pieces together and figure out what he was talking about. So many people judged him; he assumed I would also. That was never the case.

I remember one night being at his place. It was late; we had had a few drinks. (This was before he quit drinking.) He started to get very sad. I can still picture him sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. Crying. Tough guy Donny. "I'm a man" Donny. Crying. Over the difficult relationship he had with his own father. Over his own sons. I put my had on his shoulder. He brushed me away saying, "Stop, I don't deserve to feel good." Yes, you did, you deserved that. I rubbed his shoulders and back, kissed the back of his neck. He calmed down.

He saved me once from some creepy guy at Horan's. I called him on my way home from work. I had gone out with some co-workers and didn't want to go home just yet. He said he would meet me there after he finished helping fix someone's car. I got to Horan's first and was sitting by myself. Some guy started to move to the next bar stool, intending to sit down. "Are you here alone," he asked. "No, she's with me," he said as he seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was like that old Dudley Doright cartoon - always there at the last minute to save the woman in distress.

He talked about his family all the time. He missed them. I heard all the family stories as he loved to tell them. Sometimes I heard them more than once. When I first showed him faccebook he had me looking up all his family. Every search showed 4 or 5 people he knew. "That's my sister, that's my niece, that's my cousin." It seemed like he was related to the whole town. And then he would tell a story about the person we searched.

I fell asleep on his couch quite a few times. He never woke me up and sent me home, he just went to sleep himself. Then he would make breakfast the next morning. We had pancakes one morning. We had a midnight snack once of his special mac and cheese - it was delicious. He was like that. He had so little, but he was always sharing what he had.

He always appreciated a gift. I once gave him a laptop bag and one would think it was plated in gold. He said no one had every given him something that nice. (Not true, but he always said things like that.)

I wish he was here now. I miss him.