Monday, January 23, 2012

Cadence Pt. 2

(This is a follow up to my last socmed post - Cadence.)

Epiphany 5 - With Facebook, the internet now comes to you.

In theory.

Let's assume you have fifty friends. Yes, I understand that in real life you probably only have ten. But on Facebook it's easy to find yourself with some advanced popularity; as friendship maintenance only extends to some clicks here and there, and maybe a birthday wish.

It's not uncommon to see many of my friends and peers with more than a thousand friends - which seems crazy - but if you include real friends, high school friends, college friends, work friends, peer friends, client friends, family friends, spouse friends, girlfriend friends, boyfriend friends, parent's friends, kid's friends, church friends, synagogue friends, coven friends, book club friends, gym friends, volleyball friends, friend's friends, etc - it can add up.

(I personally have 500 or so friends on Facebook. Of course, only five might pick me up at the airport. Or call me on the phone.)

But I digress.

Ok, so how does the internet come to you? Well, firstly through your friends and family. Facebook is crowd-sourced; that is Facebook provides nothing but a software framework/architecture for you to post your thoughts and/or linked media.

So let's say you logged on the other day because you just wanted to see what's going on. In addition to seeing pictures of a friend's (or family member's) recent trip to NYC, a Washington Post article they just read, a video of Shit ____ Say they liked/shared, or an Instagrammed photo of what they ate for lunch; the other day was MLK Day. At least ONE of your friends posted a video of MLK's dream speech, a U2 video, or copied/pasted an MLK quote. Now you know it's MLK Day - the internet has walked up and slipped something under your door.

How else does the internet come to you?

In addition to your fifty friends, you've also subscribed to various personalities and brands. You've 'liked' NPR and the New York Times. You've also 'liked' various thought leaders, groups, and causes. So these, too, gently knock at your door, and show up in your news feed.

So, theoretically, that's how the internet comes to you.

Let's move on.

Epiphany 6 - There is no Emily Post of the internet age. So there are no rules/guidelines on what/when/how often to post.

But let's start with this: anything more than 5 posts a day is TOO much. Seriously. Do you really need to share and express EVERYTHING to EVERYONE? Must we know where you are at ALL times? And what you're eating? Do we NEED your thoughts on Paula Dean - although it is funny in a sad ironic way.

You're coming off as a little needy and/or seemingly desperate for attention. Just saying, but that's the takeaway. It looks like you're having a copy/paste rant fest at your computer.

Perhaps you're not getting enough attention/strokes in real life. Real life can be a drag. Totally understand.

Let's take a moment to get into some specifics:

Bible bangers: Here's the thing; I'm going to speak for the group here. We feel uncomfortable with the stuff about Jesus and how He has risen and so sayeth the LORD and blah blah blah. We don't go into your church and proselytize Facebook.

Politicos: You're preaching to the choir. Facebook is a closed set. None of my friends have anything nice to say about the GOP either. You ARE my friends. We're all on the same page/screen here. It's like shooting fish in a shot glass. That said, the petitions and Daily Show shares are pretty awesome.

Advertisers: You are creative, hip and cool. But think about your brand. Think about the message. Be careful not to water it down, or oversaturate the market. Sometimes it seems you're trying way... too... hard. Less is more. You know that.

Ranters: Get a blog.

Sycophanters: We see you. We know what you're doing. It's creepy.

Lurkers: Even creepier.

Supermoms: Your child is beautiful and smart. So is your dog. And so are your girlfriends from high school, college, and work. But not more than once a day. And probably not every single day. Let there be some mystery.

Superjocks: It's weird to see you cheering in a status update. It's like hearing a joke in real life and saying "LOL!" We get it - you're excited. It's just weird to see that you typed it out.

Superjock jocks: It's awesome you have a gym routine. But not EVERYONE needs to know it. Anything that has to do with electrolytes or body fluids should be your own business.

Ubernerds: The stuff about video game levels, needing magic coins, what Star Wars character you are, anything that has ville at the end, and waiting in a line overnight to buy the new Halo is all out loud. Girls can hear you.

Bottom line, I don't know.

I really don't.

It's a free country. You should be able to say/post whatever you want whenever you want however you want.

Of course, that's what Twitter is for.



Sunday, January 22, 2012

Mobruary

In November I did Movember. I shaved cheek to chin and grew a mustache over the course of the month. It was weird to see/feel my entire naked jawline, but then I went back to my normal goatee in December and everything was fine.

However, I let the mustache part keep going. So now (mid-January) I have some sort of Captain Morgan/Civil War Major General thing going on.


But back in December I had an epiphany; maybe for the last couple decades I've had a kid's mustache. That is, I've let the facial topiary go to a 10 o'clock shadow, trimmed it back to 8, let it go to 10, trimmed it to 8.

Sort of the way a teenage boy brushes his teeth - just enough to avoid the dentist.

No, shadows and teeth aren't right.

Ok, it's more like an actual lawn. There's always good ground cover, but I never let the grass grow long enough to lay down on its own.

Ah, THAT'S my normal beardscape; like a suburban lawn mid-July.

Now that it's the middle of January, my yard is overgrown. My chin is shrub-like, and I can handlebar my mustache. Yes, I can twist the sides up into a smile.

It's sort of 'punk rock'. I get looks from people on the street. They're slightly scared, slightly in awe, slightly upset or disturbed - as if I've pierced my eyebrow, tattooed my neck, or gauged my earlobes.

My friends all say, "Dude, you look cool."

These friends all happen to be guys. I think they appreciate the balls I have to have this on my face. OR they want to see how long I'll go before I realize I look like a total ass.

No woman has said, on her own, that she liked it. If I ask they will smile, nod their head, lose eye contact momentarily as they regroup, and then tell me they think it's working. It's polite for, "You look like an ass."

All cards revealed, my wife does not care for it. I'm paraphrasing to make it sound that kind.

"I don't have a lot to work with up here," I said pointing to my bald dome. "So I'm just bringing it downstairs."

"I hate it," she said. "What happened to Shavecember?"

Yes, so, I'm a little slow. I'm into my handlebar mustache. I even bought a wax so I could 'train' the hairs to go to the side.

And this is where I understood that I've been sporting a child's mustache since college.

A MAN'S mustache - taking most notes from Tom Selleck and some from Burt Reynolds - has a flow. It has some sort of destination. It's thick and luxurious. Well, if not luxurious, it's serious - like a lion's mane. You shouldn't get too close.

A MAN'S mustache eats its own meal. It says, "I'm hungry now. Go make me a sandwich with meat in it."

A MAN'S mustache says to anyone within earshot, "Excuse me, I'm sitting here. I'm not merely passing though."

A MAN'S mustache yells at the guy on the bus. "You, over there! With the chin! Go ahead, take a picture with your phone! I will outlast it!"

I'm not a kid anymore, or George Michael. I needn't mess around with lengthy stubble. I should don a MAN's mustache, and groom it accordingly.

Having said that, please understand I am quite comfortable with my metrosexuality. I'll get all up in there to trim back the nasal forest, I'll shave down my ears, and I'll pull out the hairs that connect my eyebrows. No problem.

But the waxing of the 'stache might be too much. It seems a bit too 'precious'. I don't know I'm that much of a MAN.

The PROBLEM is that it's getting in my mouth. I feel like I'm sucking on a hair brush.

But the REAL problem is food. Food to a mustache is like wind to a combover. It ain't pretty.

"Dude, it that chicken?"

I had a conversation about trimming the other day with a friend.

"Maybe you should just cut the hairs in front," he said.

"No, I think that's weird," I said. "Because then it's like a mullet; all business in front and party on the sides."

However, I'm rethinking that. I'm rethinking all of it. It seems I barely have time for things I'm active. Who has time for all this manscaping?

My wife has suggested/demanded this thing be gone by Feb 14. It might make its exit sooner.

Mad props to the champion beardsmiths and mustache men. Mad props indeed.

[Addendum: Jan 31 - I began to feel like a woman whose long nails prevent her from making a phone call. So I trimmed back my facial garden. I can soup again.]


Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Dear @80degrees and @skeletonkey, or How I Stopped Clogging up the Stream and Learned to Love Instagram

Hi, how are you.

I'm fine, thanks.

I just wanted to take a moment to tell you how much I enjoy your photos. They are all beautiful.

BEAUTIFUL.

@80degrees - I know you. I am not surprised by your use of composition and color. I am not surprised at the poetry and rhythm of your subjects. I am not surprised how many 'likes' you get. @skeletonkey - holy crap! I had NO idea.

Before I fell down the Instagram rabbit hole, I thought it was all about a square format and filters. I mean, to a certain extent, it still is. But I was basically taking tons of pictures of my daughter and making it look like she was from the 70s. I was clogging up the stream.

And then @80degrees pointed out the warren for the field...

'Ah, I see. I get it now.'

Well, I'm still getting it, but what I think I got was that photography is the thing here.

Sure, you can take tons of snaps of your loved ones, and things you like to eat and drink and pet, but you're going to clog the stream. Instagrammers follow family, the famous, and photographers. They don't want to see ALL those shots of your kid on the slide. They want your best ONE. Or maybe TWO if they're really good.

So now I take pictures with my other apps - although mostly the one that came with the phone. But then I put these pictures through my arsenal of photo/art apps. And THEN I bring them to Instagram.

I'm into it.

Of course, if I were REALLY into it, I would know the right #iphoneograpy hashtags, and I would know my emoji keyboard as well as my qwerty keyboard. Also, I would make time to give the proper props to everyone who has labored over their digital and mobile works of art, and I would thank everyone who has propped mine.

But sometimes I take time and pay attention.

I've noticed you, @skeletonkey. Different, but perhaps from the same school as @80degrees; clean lines, great use of color and/or contrast, strong compositions. And as it happened, the other day I put 5 and 6 together and got something near a dozen, specifically when I clicked on your profile.

Holy crap, that's Marielle! No way! She's just a kid. Oh, wait a second, she's actually a teenager. Whoa... How did that happen?

Ahem...

So, @skeletonkey, you are your own artist. You have a confident and surprisingly mature eye. That said, it's easy to see the apple doesn't fall from the tree that happens along the way. Good work, both of you!

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@skeletonkey


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@80degrees


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