Ten years ago, I thought my life was pretty good. I moved to Truckee, California a year earlier to escape the madness (both internally and externally) of the San Francisco Bay Area. I managed to arrive in a situation where my income requirements were minimal and my aspirations were equally so. My plan, if it could be called a plan, was to live out my years in semi-retirement in this alpine paradise. My “backyard” was my playground and my boys would reap the benefits. At the age of 36, I had arrived.
My education to that point consisted of a high school diploma, a technical certification from a vocational institute and a number of attempts at other educational goals, each of which were abandoned in an effort to get to greener pastures as quickly as I could. My commitment to education and career was based in opportunity – that is to say that there was no commitment. I would jump ship as soon as the brass ring was within reach. It was all about comfort – my comfort. I could not see nor did I care about the greater good. My concern for humanity was limited to only those close to me, a world that gradually got smaller and smaller.
Although it is true that I worked to a level that could be best described as “good enough,” I paid my taxes and I would be sure to point out the injustices in the world to anyone who would listen, I had no intention of doing anything about anything as long as I had what I needed. Internal gratification was attained externally and if at all possible, instantly. The problem with instant gratification is that it only lasts for an instant; once it is gone the quest begins again – it is both never lasting and never ending. However, despite my lack of initiative and commitment, opportunity serendipitously landed at my feet and it gave me a sense of purpose, for about a year.
Through a series of unlikely events, I landed a job as a cell phone retailer in Truckee in the summer of 1999. I was to open a new store in a chain owned by a Reno entrepreneur who was a dealer for Pacific Bell/Nevada Bell Wireless (soon to become Cingular Wireless and later, AT&T Wireless). In the previous year, I worked in seasonal positions as a mechanic at a golf course in the summer and a ski area in the winter – using skills I had acquired years earlier as I sought fast and easy money (which never materialized because I never committed enough time to reach the expertise those who made “the big bucks” did). It was low-paying, rarely satisfying grunt work, but it paid the bills.
Due to my sporadic but considerable experience with computers (including another never completed foray into vocational education) combined with my experience as an early cellular user (my first phone was housed in a bag), the learning curve was short. I was able to take seemingly remotely related knowledge and combine it to discover capabilities this new (at the time) digital cellular technology had to offer. A convergence of new technology, much of it developed in Europe, enabled me to bring some tools to our group of stores that allowed us to do things that are common today, but unheard of then.
But business was initially very slow. Digital coverage in the Sierras was spotty and we were the upstarts – the analog competition in Truckee was well established. Although I was profoundly bored, I gained a great deal of satisfaction not in selling cellular service, but in providing service by educating my customers on the capabilities of our digital technology. I was also a liaison between the service provider and my customers, using my connections at Cingular to resolve my customers’ issues. After about six to eight months, business exploded and the money started rolling in. I had arrived, once again.
The satisfaction I experienced early on was lost in the aura of success. My emphasis was redirected as my income was directly influenced by my sales and my sales were twice what the owner projected. I was becoming, again, instantly gratified and my efforts again became only “good enough.” Although my run essentially ended with a violent automobile accident on October 17, 2000 – my “commitment” was already waning. I was no longer focused on what gave me job satisfaction; indeed, I never really recognized it when I had it. My mindset was still focused on my comfort and that comfort had a price tag.
Today, ten years after starting that job and nearly nine after my wreck, I have a profoundly different view on the world and my place in it. Comfort today is derived from far more than some physical reality – it comes from within. Throughout the intervening years I have experienced more discomfort (including, but not limited to a three month hospitalization) than I could ever imagine, but from it came a completely different perspective on life. That job as a cellular retailer, as did most every other opportunity that has been placed at my feet, gave me that sense of purpose I always sought. I just didn’t know it and passed right by it, again, for the kind of satisfaction that can be bought; the kind that can be lost just like it can be gained – in an instant.
Although I have finally found what I believe to be my “purpose” in education both as a student as well as a teacher, I firmly believe purpose was present in each and every of the many vocations I have encountered thus far. It isn’t in what I do, but how I approach it. Whether I was wrenching on a golf cart or a snow cat, selling cellular service, working as a technician or in sales and marketing in Silicon Valley, as an educator or any of the various other hats I have worn, it all comes down to a participatory role in the human race. It is not, nor has it ever been, all about me and mine. Paradoxically, by focusing less on my own comfort and more on contributing to the world in general, my comfort, internally, is far greater and, more importantly, lasting.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Commuter's Notebook
It is no secret that I like to ride my motorcycle. This is not to say that I always want to ride. I put many more miles on my car in the last 12 months than I did on my bike (not quite twice as many – about 22,000 and 12,000, respectively). There are a number of situations when I prefer to drive. The obvious include inclement weather, storage or passenger capacity, but there are others. Although I don’t mind putting on all of my leather and other cold weather gear, when the temperature dips below about 50 degrees I prefer to drive. On the other end of the spectrum, when it gets very hot, a short ride can be enjoyable while a longer one might be intolerable. But there are other factors, too.
For the most part, I am not a motorcycle commuter. The vast majority of the miles I travel between my home in Fair Oaks, CA and California State University, Sacramento are logged in my car. There are number of advantages to riding to school/work, but the negatives usually outweigh the positives. I can strap my computer bag and all the associated books and binders stuffed in it to my bike, but it takes enough time that loading and unloading is noticeable. Although parking my bike on campus is painless as far as space availability and proximity are concerned, locking all the necessary locks and securing my permit to the bike are tasks that are replaced by simply closing the door and pushing a button with my car.
Those are, however, minor details that I would gladly undertake if the ride was worth it. Mine is not. Most of my commute takes place on US 50 – a multi-lane freeway that has little in the way of aesthetic value between Folsom and Sacramento. Add to the equation the number of cars, many with operators who are eating, adjusting their appearance, reading and/or talking on their cell phones, and the 15 to 20 minute commute becomes everything but relaxing. The wind in my face is littered with debris as the wall-to-wall cars pick it up with their tires and fling it into the air, too small to notice behind four doors and a windshield, but painfully apparent when it hits my face.
This might sound almost blasphemous to my hard-core brethren, but my bike, for me, is an escape. Riding on the freeway, especially during commute hours, requires such heightened awareness just to stay alive that the peace I find is relegated to the point of pointlessness. Give me a beautiful mountain road or an uncrowded stretch of highway and I’m all over it. Even the multi-lane highways can paradoxically lend the peace I seek when riding in a pack – a presence drivers cannot easily ignore. But to fight all those cars on my bike by myself just to commute? I’ll take the comfort and safety of my car and save my bike for more enjoyable rides.
For the most part, I am not a motorcycle commuter. The vast majority of the miles I travel between my home in Fair Oaks, CA and California State University, Sacramento are logged in my car. There are number of advantages to riding to school/work, but the negatives usually outweigh the positives. I can strap my computer bag and all the associated books and binders stuffed in it to my bike, but it takes enough time that loading and unloading is noticeable. Although parking my bike on campus is painless as far as space availability and proximity are concerned, locking all the necessary locks and securing my permit to the bike are tasks that are replaced by simply closing the door and pushing a button with my car.
Those are, however, minor details that I would gladly undertake if the ride was worth it. Mine is not. Most of my commute takes place on US 50 – a multi-lane freeway that has little in the way of aesthetic value between Folsom and Sacramento. Add to the equation the number of cars, many with operators who are eating, adjusting their appearance, reading and/or talking on their cell phones, and the 15 to 20 minute commute becomes everything but relaxing. The wind in my face is littered with debris as the wall-to-wall cars pick it up with their tires and fling it into the air, too small to notice behind four doors and a windshield, but painfully apparent when it hits my face.
This might sound almost blasphemous to my hard-core brethren, but my bike, for me, is an escape. Riding on the freeway, especially during commute hours, requires such heightened awareness just to stay alive that the peace I find is relegated to the point of pointlessness. Give me a beautiful mountain road or an uncrowded stretch of highway and I’m all over it. Even the multi-lane highways can paradoxically lend the peace I seek when riding in a pack – a presence drivers cannot easily ignore. But to fight all those cars on my bike by myself just to commute? I’ll take the comfort and safety of my car and save my bike for more enjoyable rides.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Momentary Eternity
I can’t say I remember the first time I visited Lake Tahoe – I know I was very young. And I can’t recall with any separate specificity the thousands of times I have seen her since, but one underlying characteristic of each occurrence is her utter magnificence. It is breathtaking each and every time. Winter, summer, spring or fall… it does not matter, the majesty of the lake transcends all else. When I lived in the nearby town of Truckee for several years, I would often travel Highway 267 from Truckee to Tahoe’s north shore. Cresting Brockway Summit, the grandeur of this “Jewel of the Sierra” replaces all other realities, if only for an instant.
It has a meditative quality. The overwhelming beauty of this pristine lake can quiet one’s mind, almost as though her silent dominance supersedes whatever conflict or confusion might be going through my head. Gazing out over the lake’s south shore on this beautiful early summer morning, I am afforded the opportunity to escape the minutia and refocus on the big picture – both literally and figuratively. I am not speaking in terms of my own long-term goals, dreams and aspirations – the real big picture is much larger than that. But it eventually comes down to the few years I have to experience the world and what that means.
Lake Tahoe, or at least the area surrounding the lake, has changed dramatically in just less than 200 years. There used to be a lake, some Native Americans, forest and wild life. There were no houses or roads or “infrastructure.” No casinos. All of that is relatively recent, yet no one alive today was witness to those unspoiled times. But despite all of this “civilization,” the lake endures. She was here long before me and will be long after I am gone – perhaps long after humans are gone. Although concerns of sullying the lake’s legendary clarity are valid, the fact remains that we are of little significance to her… she can and will wait us out.
All of us.
And maybe it is, in part, that enduring power that I am tapping into. It is humbling. While quietly contemplating, my phone rang with an email alert. Although the trappings of the modern world invaded my solitude, I was not compelled to immediately break my connection with nature. When I finally did read the alert, it eerily dovetailed into my thoughts. Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer; she is dead. Yesterday, Ed McMahon died. (Newsbreak: Michael Jackson – also dead). Someday, we all will die. And though I don’t often dwell on mortality, from time to time it tends to put some things into perspective. I last wrote about moments – how the hustle and bustle of everyday life can sometimes overshadow what is really important.
The funny thing about time is that there is really only one time – now. It is at once fleeting, permanent and continuous; both limited and endless. The question is what we do with our time while we’re here. As morbid as this might sound, it is not about dying, but rather about living. Although I have often felt as though I have “wasted” my time, I am not at all sure this perspective is the truth and it certainly doesn’t serve me. My experience has made me who I am and none of it – even those moments of solitude – exist in isolation. Every second of every minute for every one of my 46 plus years have occurred in the vast matrix of human experience.
Although there are a few (very few) who have left a lasting legacy, most of us will eventually fade from memory. Most of those we have touched and will touch will pass from memory as well. And it is probably safe to say that many (myself included) rarely give it any thought. Even this grand lake will eventually succumb to the forces of nature – as will the planet, the solar system and, eons from now, the Universe. I don’t know what lies beyond and despite their sincerest beliefs, no one else does either. Regardless, that time has not yet come – it is not now. It is important to remember how our lives affect others not tomorrow or years from now or after we’re gone, but now – right now.
Even this eternally majestic lake exists only a moment at a time... and that moment is now.
It has a meditative quality. The overwhelming beauty of this pristine lake can quiet one’s mind, almost as though her silent dominance supersedes whatever conflict or confusion might be going through my head. Gazing out over the lake’s south shore on this beautiful early summer morning, I am afforded the opportunity to escape the minutia and refocus on the big picture – both literally and figuratively. I am not speaking in terms of my own long-term goals, dreams and aspirations – the real big picture is much larger than that. But it eventually comes down to the few years I have to experience the world and what that means.Lake Tahoe, or at least the area surrounding the lake, has changed dramatically in just less than 200 years. There used to be a lake, some Native Americans, forest and wild life. There were no houses or roads or “infrastructure.” No casinos. All of that is relatively recent, yet no one alive today was witness to those unspoiled times. But despite all of this “civilization,” the lake endures. She was here long before me and will be long after I am gone – perhaps long after humans are gone. Although concerns of sullying the lake’s legendary clarity are valid, the fact remains that we are of little significance to her… she can and will wait us out.
All of us.
And maybe it is, in part, that enduring power that I am tapping into. It is humbling. While quietly contemplating, my phone rang with an email alert. Although the trappings of the modern world invaded my solitude, I was not compelled to immediately break my connection with nature. When I finally did read the alert, it eerily dovetailed into my thoughts. Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer; she is dead. Yesterday, Ed McMahon died. (Newsbreak: Michael Jackson – also dead). Someday, we all will die. And though I don’t often dwell on mortality, from time to time it tends to put some things into perspective. I last wrote about moments – how the hustle and bustle of everyday life can sometimes overshadow what is really important.
The funny thing about time is that there is really only one time – now. It is at once fleeting, permanent and continuous; both limited and endless. The question is what we do with our time while we’re here. As morbid as this might sound, it is not about dying, but rather about living. Although I have often felt as though I have “wasted” my time, I am not at all sure this perspective is the truth and it certainly doesn’t serve me. My experience has made me who I am and none of it – even those moments of solitude – exist in isolation. Every second of every minute for every one of my 46 plus years have occurred in the vast matrix of human experience.
Although there are a few (very few) who have left a lasting legacy, most of us will eventually fade from memory. Most of those we have touched and will touch will pass from memory as well. And it is probably safe to say that many (myself included) rarely give it any thought. Even this grand lake will eventually succumb to the forces of nature – as will the planet, the solar system and, eons from now, the Universe. I don’t know what lies beyond and despite their sincerest beliefs, no one else does either. Regardless, that time has not yet come – it is not now. It is important to remember how our lives affect others not tomorrow or years from now or after we’re gone, but now – right now.
Even this eternally majestic lake exists only a moment at a time... and that moment is now.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Moments
Some time ago, a friend was recounting some of her life’s experience and an epiphany that arose from them. It must have been at least two or three years ago… I didn’t forget about it, but I haven’t thought about it since, until yesterday. Although it made sense to me at the time and I could easily relate to her premise, it was not as profound to me as it obviously was to her. She was speaking about “moments;” those often brief but indelible times in one’s life that can be missed when one becomes too busy… with anything. I got it then, but yesterday her message gained new prominence – it is now just as profound for me.
Call it an alignment of the planets, Universal harmony or simply coincidence, but yesterday when certain seemingly unrelated and widely separated factors converged in one place and time, I realized the magnitude of what she tried to share with me (and others). It seems like a small thing, but in the course of my life, it cannot be underestimated, the power of this particular “moment.” Yesterday was Father’s Day; I have been a father for a long time and a son even longer. This past Father’s Day, however, I was also a grandfather. Although this is a big deal in and of itself, it is not where the power of the moment came from.
Yesterday morning I called my eldest son not to solicit Father’s Day greetings, but to give them - for the very first time. It was powerful – in the moment, but it was not until later in the day that it struck me just how profound the moment was... when I remembered the thoughts my friend shared so long ago. And it is not as though I might have truly “missed” the moment, but more that I might have allowed it to pass without realizing just how important it was. Life is often busy and these seemingly little things can slip by almost automatically. On Father’s Day we honor our fathers. It is expected and it, like other similar occasions, is a ritual I do not hesitate to contribute towards. But it can feel somewhat perfunctory even when the underlying motives are genuine.
It was almost that when I wished my son a “Happy Father’s Day.” I meant it and the fact that this was new territory was not lost on me. But it was not until I ran into the same friend last night that it jogged my memory and the message she was sharing took on new and deeper meaning. And I was present for the moment, albeit several hours removed. True, I had participated earlier and I realized the significance in real time, but the connection I later made went well beyond this one discrete instance. Life if full of these little moments, they pass with varying degrees of attention in our busy day-to-day lives. This time, it was not just recognized for what it was, it was also viewed by the beacon that shown its way back to me from years earlier.
And I didn’t miss it.
* Image used acquired from the public domain
Call it an alignment of the planets, Universal harmony or simply coincidence, but yesterday when certain seemingly unrelated and widely separated factors converged in one place and time, I realized the magnitude of what she tried to share with me (and others). It seems like a small thing, but in the course of my life, it cannot be underestimated, the power of this particular “moment.” Yesterday was Father’s Day; I have been a father for a long time and a son even longer. This past Father’s Day, however, I was also a grandfather. Although this is a big deal in and of itself, it is not where the power of the moment came from.Yesterday morning I called my eldest son not to solicit Father’s Day greetings, but to give them - for the very first time. It was powerful – in the moment, but it was not until later in the day that it struck me just how profound the moment was... when I remembered the thoughts my friend shared so long ago. And it is not as though I might have truly “missed” the moment, but more that I might have allowed it to pass without realizing just how important it was. Life is often busy and these seemingly little things can slip by almost automatically. On Father’s Day we honor our fathers. It is expected and it, like other similar occasions, is a ritual I do not hesitate to contribute towards. But it can feel somewhat perfunctory even when the underlying motives are genuine.
It was almost that when I wished my son a “Happy Father’s Day.” I meant it and the fact that this was new territory was not lost on me. But it was not until I ran into the same friend last night that it jogged my memory and the message she was sharing took on new and deeper meaning. And I was present for the moment, albeit several hours removed. True, I had participated earlier and I realized the significance in real time, but the connection I later made went well beyond this one discrete instance. Life if full of these little moments, they pass with varying degrees of attention in our busy day-to-day lives. This time, it was not just recognized for what it was, it was also viewed by the beacon that shown its way back to me from years earlier.
And I didn’t miss it.
* Image used acquired from the public domain
Monday, June 15, 2009
Humility
For reasons I will not go into here, today has been a trying day. The circumstances were such that I had little patience, little initiative and I could not concentrate on anything. That is not to say I didn’t get anything done today. Although it was not my most productive day, it certainly wasn’t a total waste either. But the tasks I walked through today seemed more about escape than purpose; it was self-imposed busy work – worthwhile, but not exactly urgent. And it only helped until it was done – then it was just my “issue” and me, all by ourselves. There was nothing I could do to change what was gnawing at me – I was just going to suck it up and let it pass, however long it took.
The other approach would be to adopt a different perspective, one that paints the situation in a more tolerable light. Although there are a number of ways of doing this, I didn’t seem to have the willingness to put forth the minimal effort required. It was as though I actually wanted to be pissed off. It should be noted that I have gone to great lengths to avoid such turmoil… not by acquiescence, but rather by acceptance. Things happen, people do things and the vast majority of what goes on outside my head is well beyond my control. Acceptance does not mean I have to like it, but that I can leave it and move on. Today, I was having a great deal of difficulty leaving it behind.
And what had taken up residency in my head was not worth spending any mental energy on at all – it really was a petty issue. It was not exactly silly, but it certainly wasn't cataclysmic. Life as we know it would continue, and my life would not, indeed could not be adversely affected by it. I tried to quiet myself and seek some clarity and it worked for a minute. Then the minute was over. Just as I was about to extract some more mileage out of this injustice, a dear friend called for reasons I don’t even remember. We talked. We ate some dinner. We went out and got some coffee and talked some more. And it was exactly the right person to vent to – the pressure was released and my perspective had normalized.
I could have called her any time during the day, but I didn’t. I have a number of other friends who would have been there as well, but I didn’t call them either. It just didn’t seem like a big deal – even to me - but it was, and I guess I don’t need to know why. The fact is that I have more than a few very good friends and it is important to remember that we are there in the good times as well as the not so good. It was made very clear to me tonight that my issues, no matter how petty I might think they are, are not a burden to my friends. And I do know it – I would have said the same thing if our roles were reversed. But humility is not always voluntary… thankfully so.
The other approach would be to adopt a different perspective, one that paints the situation in a more tolerable light. Although there are a number of ways of doing this, I didn’t seem to have the willingness to put forth the minimal effort required. It was as though I actually wanted to be pissed off. It should be noted that I have gone to great lengths to avoid such turmoil… not by acquiescence, but rather by acceptance. Things happen, people do things and the vast majority of what goes on outside my head is well beyond my control. Acceptance does not mean I have to like it, but that I can leave it and move on. Today, I was having a great deal of difficulty leaving it behind.
And what had taken up residency in my head was not worth spending any mental energy on at all – it really was a petty issue. It was not exactly silly, but it certainly wasn't cataclysmic. Life as we know it would continue, and my life would not, indeed could not be adversely affected by it. I tried to quiet myself and seek some clarity and it worked for a minute. Then the minute was over. Just as I was about to extract some more mileage out of this injustice, a dear friend called for reasons I don’t even remember. We talked. We ate some dinner. We went out and got some coffee and talked some more. And it was exactly the right person to vent to – the pressure was released and my perspective had normalized.
I could have called her any time during the day, but I didn’t. I have a number of other friends who would have been there as well, but I didn’t call them either. It just didn’t seem like a big deal – even to me - but it was, and I guess I don’t need to know why. The fact is that I have more than a few very good friends and it is important to remember that we are there in the good times as well as the not so good. It was made very clear to me tonight that my issues, no matter how petty I might think they are, are not a burden to my friends. And I do know it – I would have said the same thing if our roles were reversed. But humility is not always voluntary… thankfully so.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Interfacing
When it comes to new stuff, particularly technological stuff, I typically like to stay on top of it. I have been a tech “geek” for some time (my first computer was a Commodore 64) and although my interest has morphed away from an internal, “hands on” perspective, I still have a keen interest in cutting edge technology. The same cannot be said for new interfaces, however. When I was a Windows aficionado, I resisted Windows 95, 98, NT 4.0, 2000, finally ending my Windows experience with XP. Likewise, my transition to Apple and Mac OS X was also met with initial resistance, but the Mac's benefits were soon realized.
It is not my intent to write a polemic against the Windows OS or to champion the Macintosh, but rather to examine this odd inconsistency I have with embracing new and faster hardware while resisting the software interfaces that maximize it. Obviously there is comfort in familiarity and there is always a learning curve involved when new conventions are developed and deployed, but my resistance, I think, has less to do with the learning curve than it does with jumping on the bandwagon. In fact, it might be true that if I was a beta tester for these new interfaces – if I had access to them right from the beginning, I might have a much different perspective.
There is some evidence to support this notion. First, some hardware necessarily requires learning new software. Although numerous examples exist, one of the most recent would be my conversion to the iPhone. No, I was not one of the first to have one – I waited until Apple drastically reduce the initial price, but I did acquire one relatively early on and went about the task of figuring it out with great enthusiasm. The learning curve was not a hindrance and although the accolades of the iPhone were abundant, it usage had not yet reached critical mass. I was not just another Blackberry user anymore.
There are other instances of new hardware driving new software interfaces - and I did not resist. But what about when the hardware is established and new software is developed? History would tell me that I am not anxious to follow the masses… that combined with a comfort level and, perhaps, a satisfaction with proven performance, I am not willing to venture away. It is certainly the case with the many “social networking” platforms (which I’ll address shortly) currently available. But when it comes to getting a hold of a brand new operating system not yet released, it would appear that I am somewhat more compliant. In fact, I have been running successive beta versions of iPhone OS 3.x for several weeks now.
No bandwagons here, and there are significant improvements and additions to the previous OS. Soon, however (less than a week, tentatively), the rest of the world will have it as well. At the same time, the new and improved iPhone 3G [S] will be released. Yes, of course I will get one as soon as possible – it is hardware after all. But all of this preceding “insight” is a long way around to getting to what I set out to do… namely, crystallizing my thoughts on social networking. As is often the case, I am not sure what will come out until I write it, but I have some thoughts that have been spawned by the latest “craze,” Twitter.
As I resisted new operating systems, and other software that “replaces” software that I have grown accustomed to, so too, I have resisted certain platforms that ostensibly facilitate social interaction. Not all, I was an early AOL subscriber and although the “chat room” was a novelty that proved to be entertaining, it was fleeting; it got old fast, as did AOL. It could have been due to the extreme anonymity (nobody was who they said they were) or simply the superficiality of it all, but whatever the reason, “chat” (whether in a dedicated room or on a one-to-one basis), for me, remains relegated to necessity or opportunity rather than a regular channel of communication.
When blogging became all the rage, I resisted. When I finally jumped on the bandwagon, I found it to be communication on a much deeper level. True, there are blogs that are little more than cyber vomit, but many are produced by those who have something intelligent to say – and many of those are well-written to boot (though intelligence and good writing do not necessarily require one another. Likewise, there is plenty of well-written spew, but I digress). The point is that most of the blogosphere contains more than just a “status update.”
Which leads me to the next evolutionary step in social networking, Myspace. Again, I resisted for a very long time. I had a number of preconceptions, many of which were valid, but when I finally acquiesced, I found it to be a very good tool to stay in touch with a large number of my “friends” with minimal effort. Of course, there is a downside in that the “work” involved in maintaining a relationship is greatly reduced, but in my case I still used the tried and tested means of personal interaction, in person, with my real “friends.” Facebook does what Myspace does, but better and with it I found a number – a large number – of old friends and acquaintances that I likely never would have otherwise. It is a feet that Classmates claims to do (for a price), but fails miserably.
Now there’s Twitter, and I am resisting. I know “everybody’s doing it” and I know that it has attained a great deal of media favoritism, but I cannot see how mass-texting across the Internet will enhance an already robust social network. Furthermore, it is beyond me why anyone really cares if or when I am taking out the garbage or going to the store or any of the other minutia in my daily life. And I’m sorry, I don’t care about the minutia of yours either. Granted, without any direct experience with Twitter, I am likely missing everything it offers, some of which I might actually find valuable. But I will wait this one out. I have heard it is here to stay, much like that upstart technology, email. We’ll see – in the meantime, I’ll stick with what I know.
It is not my intent to write a polemic against the Windows OS or to champion the Macintosh, but rather to examine this odd inconsistency I have with embracing new and faster hardware while resisting the software interfaces that maximize it. Obviously there is comfort in familiarity and there is always a learning curve involved when new conventions are developed and deployed, but my resistance, I think, has less to do with the learning curve than it does with jumping on the bandwagon. In fact, it might be true that if I was a beta tester for these new interfaces – if I had access to them right from the beginning, I might have a much different perspective.
There is some evidence to support this notion. First, some hardware necessarily requires learning new software. Although numerous examples exist, one of the most recent would be my conversion to the iPhone. No, I was not one of the first to have one – I waited until Apple drastically reduce the initial price, but I did acquire one relatively early on and went about the task of figuring it out with great enthusiasm. The learning curve was not a hindrance and although the accolades of the iPhone were abundant, it usage had not yet reached critical mass. I was not just another Blackberry user anymore.
There are other instances of new hardware driving new software interfaces - and I did not resist. But what about when the hardware is established and new software is developed? History would tell me that I am not anxious to follow the masses… that combined with a comfort level and, perhaps, a satisfaction with proven performance, I am not willing to venture away. It is certainly the case with the many “social networking” platforms (which I’ll address shortly) currently available. But when it comes to getting a hold of a brand new operating system not yet released, it would appear that I am somewhat more compliant. In fact, I have been running successive beta versions of iPhone OS 3.x for several weeks now.
No bandwagons here, and there are significant improvements and additions to the previous OS. Soon, however (less than a week, tentatively), the rest of the world will have it as well. At the same time, the new and improved iPhone 3G [S] will be released. Yes, of course I will get one as soon as possible – it is hardware after all. But all of this preceding “insight” is a long way around to getting to what I set out to do… namely, crystallizing my thoughts on social networking. As is often the case, I am not sure what will come out until I write it, but I have some thoughts that have been spawned by the latest “craze,” Twitter.
As I resisted new operating systems, and other software that “replaces” software that I have grown accustomed to, so too, I have resisted certain platforms that ostensibly facilitate social interaction. Not all, I was an early AOL subscriber and although the “chat room” was a novelty that proved to be entertaining, it was fleeting; it got old fast, as did AOL. It could have been due to the extreme anonymity (nobody was who they said they were) or simply the superficiality of it all, but whatever the reason, “chat” (whether in a dedicated room or on a one-to-one basis), for me, remains relegated to necessity or opportunity rather than a regular channel of communication.
When blogging became all the rage, I resisted. When I finally jumped on the bandwagon, I found it to be communication on a much deeper level. True, there are blogs that are little more than cyber vomit, but many are produced by those who have something intelligent to say – and many of those are well-written to boot (though intelligence and good writing do not necessarily require one another. Likewise, there is plenty of well-written spew, but I digress). The point is that most of the blogosphere contains more than just a “status update.”
Which leads me to the next evolutionary step in social networking, Myspace. Again, I resisted for a very long time. I had a number of preconceptions, many of which were valid, but when I finally acquiesced, I found it to be a very good tool to stay in touch with a large number of my “friends” with minimal effort. Of course, there is a downside in that the “work” involved in maintaining a relationship is greatly reduced, but in my case I still used the tried and tested means of personal interaction, in person, with my real “friends.” Facebook does what Myspace does, but better and with it I found a number – a large number – of old friends and acquaintances that I likely never would have otherwise. It is a feet that Classmates claims to do (for a price), but fails miserably.
Now there’s Twitter, and I am resisting. I know “everybody’s doing it” and I know that it has attained a great deal of media favoritism, but I cannot see how mass-texting across the Internet will enhance an already robust social network. Furthermore, it is beyond me why anyone really cares if or when I am taking out the garbage or going to the store or any of the other minutia in my daily life. And I’m sorry, I don’t care about the minutia of yours either. Granted, without any direct experience with Twitter, I am likely missing everything it offers, some of which I might actually find valuable. But I will wait this one out. I have heard it is here to stay, much like that upstart technology, email. We’ll see – in the meantime, I’ll stick with what I know.
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