Have I mentioned how much I love Twitter?
It isn't just because it was the shortest distance between the Wheaton and me/I/myself (damn English). I mean I never really expected to ever hear from him. And lo! In the midst of his busy writing shedule, little 'ol me gets a retweet. And it isn't because I get a front row seat to Brent Spiner's very active mind. It isn't even because I keep getting these great ego boosts from new friends. I love Twitter because I have new friends.
I already told you about the friends I've made through the comments in Spiner's real time feed. Since then there have been even more followers, all of a similar mindset. And as we go along, day by day, we see the sacred and the profane of what makes our lives tick. Not just for oursleves but for the other people in our lives. It is amazing.
I think that the thing that I like most is that Twitter allows me to be a cheerleader and tweet things that mostly say "yea @_________" when the people I follow have great news to impart. I can send sympathy, virtual hugs and share emotions via music quotes with my followers/following. And Twitter forces brevity on my verbose inner Mr. Data. I don't feel bad "bothering" Wil when he is writing cause I keep it short. And I do try not to bother him with too frequent posting. But it is the great commeraderie with my new friends that makes Twitter most special. Sure without Wil and Brent I wouldn't have met them. But they are there, wating to be found, waiting to find me.
I've no grand illusions that Twitter will open portals to fame, fortune or some other lofty thing. of course it could. But I'm just this little poster and tweeter of geeky things. The grand things are for others. I just like expanding my Universe without all the negative quantum consequences. Twitter is good.
Showing posts with label twitter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label twitter. Show all posts
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
he boldy went
My mom was born in 1929. She was raised on the radio programs and Saturday serials at the movies and was a Hollywoodphile. Aside from a traumatic WWII event, her fondest recollections of her youth were the hours her family spent in front of the radio and at the Fox theater.
They listened to everything from Fibber McGee and Molly to the Shadow. Abbot and Costello met and frustrated everyone. The programs she loved best allowed the imagination to fill in the gaps between dialog and exposition. Well, the noir mysteries tended to tell you what color the blonde's hair was. I know- duh. Anyway, the imagination was the hook. Mom said she thought of herself as more of a co-creator than a listener. This might account for her very annoying tendency to accurately "predict" plot twists in the soaps we watched. As I think back on the saga Brent Spiner wove over the course of the last month, I realized that his twitfiction shares similar characteristics with those early radio dramas my mom loved.
First it depended on brief, evocative description to move the plot. Second, he used dialect to color the characters dialog. Third, the secondary characters were built successfully upon stereotypes, updated for modern audiences as seen in Monty the bumbling actors agent. Monty is still an agent, but of a different stripe than the bumbling FBI/revenuers/sheriffs of my mother's time. Production style is not the only similarity.
The audience response, as seen in the real time feed, was similar. The audience has some ownership. This, in part, is due to the close identification the audience, already Spiner fans, has with his previous screen incarnations. The trend in modern screenwriting to reference common pop culture icons to give characters more connection to the audience adds to this feeling of ownership or co-creatorship with Spiner. Bogie, to the best of my knowledge, didn't reference the Maltese Falcon in Casablanca or any of his other movies. And no where in the Wizard of Oz do the characters reference Bogie. It wasn't done back then. Similar to my mother's time, is the audience chatter amongst themselves.
What is different, as I said in the first review, is the immediacy of internet connections and the real time (pacific) updates free of time slot constrictions. Spiner posted whenever it was convenient for the story as oppsed to being convenient for a network. My mother and her girlfriends did the same Monday morning "Oh my God, did you_" that me and my friends did in highschool with only 3 TV networks. That was only if they did not gather at someone's house to listen as a party. With the internet, all 300 thousand of us could follow instantly, chat amongst ourselves instantly and give the author/director/actor feedback instantly.
My mother would be uncomfortable with the physicality of this technological age. But I think she would have loved to be able to participate with the star. Of course, knowing mom, Brent Spiner would have had to wear out the block button to get her to stop spoiling the surprises. Of all the Star Trek I have ever watched in my life, Next Generation was the only thing my mom kinda got and Data, the realization of early sci-fi writers' dreams, was the only character my mom actually liked. Public Radio, to some extent, keeps this radio drama tradition alive with Prairie Home Companion and This American Life. But it is the immediacy unknown is old time radio style drama that, if even for a moment, would have made Spiner her hero for life.
They listened to everything from Fibber McGee and Molly to the Shadow. Abbot and Costello met and frustrated everyone. The programs she loved best allowed the imagination to fill in the gaps between dialog and exposition. Well, the noir mysteries tended to tell you what color the blonde's hair was. I know- duh. Anyway, the imagination was the hook. Mom said she thought of herself as more of a co-creator than a listener. This might account for her very annoying tendency to accurately "predict" plot twists in the soaps we watched. As I think back on the saga Brent Spiner wove over the course of the last month, I realized that his twitfiction shares similar characteristics with those early radio dramas my mom loved.
First it depended on brief, evocative description to move the plot. Second, he used dialect to color the characters dialog. Third, the secondary characters were built successfully upon stereotypes, updated for modern audiences as seen in Monty the bumbling actors agent. Monty is still an agent, but of a different stripe than the bumbling FBI/revenuers/sheriffs of my mother's time. Production style is not the only similarity.
The audience response, as seen in the real time feed, was similar. The audience has some ownership. This, in part, is due to the close identification the audience, already Spiner fans, has with his previous screen incarnations. The trend in modern screenwriting to reference common pop culture icons to give characters more connection to the audience adds to this feeling of ownership or co-creatorship with Spiner. Bogie, to the best of my knowledge, didn't reference the Maltese Falcon in Casablanca or any of his other movies. And no where in the Wizard of Oz do the characters reference Bogie. It wasn't done back then. Similar to my mother's time, is the audience chatter amongst themselves.
What is different, as I said in the first review, is the immediacy of internet connections and the real time (pacific) updates free of time slot constrictions. Spiner posted whenever it was convenient for the story as oppsed to being convenient for a network. My mother and her girlfriends did the same Monday morning "Oh my God, did you_" that me and my friends did in highschool with only 3 TV networks. That was only if they did not gather at someone's house to listen as a party. With the internet, all 300 thousand of us could follow instantly, chat amongst ourselves instantly and give the author/director/actor feedback instantly.
My mother would be uncomfortable with the physicality of this technological age. But I think she would have loved to be able to participate with the star. Of course, knowing mom, Brent Spiner would have had to wear out the block button to get her to stop spoiling the surprises. Of all the Star Trek I have ever watched in my life, Next Generation was the only thing my mom kinda got and Data, the realization of early sci-fi writers' dreams, was the only character my mom actually liked. Public Radio, to some extent, keeps this radio drama tradition alive with Prairie Home Companion and This American Life. But it is the immediacy unknown is old time radio style drama that, if even for a moment, would have made Spiner her hero for life.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Happy Anniversary
As of today I have been a blogger for one year. As with most milestones, the anticipation produced more excitement than the actual day. When I woke up this morning I didn't feel more accomplished or more authorly (I know, not a word). I am more tired and more physically beat up since my job is kicking my arse. I do feel as though I have faced a challenge and seen myself more clearly because of it. I have found a braver voice than I thought I could ever possess. That can only lead to good things down the road. Fortune favors the brave, right? Depending of course on whose dice you roll... but I digress.
The things that I have learned through this experiment are harder to articulate than I thought they would be due to their internal nature. The discipline is the most important part since I used to write when "the spirit" moved me. I still have to conquer the silly notion that I can ponder a subject until the due date and crank out something brilliant to get that A+. I'm not in high school anymore and my aging brain pan reminds me of that fact constantly.
The blog, as it turns out, was a gateway into a bigger cyber world which is still so new to me that I don't have any cohesive thoughts on the subject beyond the fact that I am not as invisible as I thought I was. How this will all work together is quite beyond me.
So in the end, I have nothing wittier and daring to say beyond this
Here we go... into the void.
The things that I have learned through this experiment are harder to articulate than I thought they would be due to their internal nature. The discipline is the most important part since I used to write when "the spirit" moved me. I still have to conquer the silly notion that I can ponder a subject until the due date and crank out something brilliant to get that A+. I'm not in high school anymore and my aging brain pan reminds me of that fact constantly.
The blog, as it turns out, was a gateway into a bigger cyber world which is still so new to me that I don't have any cohesive thoughts on the subject beyond the fact that I am not as invisible as I thought I was. How this will all work together is quite beyond me.
So in the end, I have nothing wittier and daring to say beyond this
Here we go... into the void.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
still going
Spiner saga is still going. On the run, blaming Data for the daring do... this is still entertaining. The audience is still captivated and we are growing a community of Spiner watchers. If I were not participating in this as it happens I would not believe it possible.
Oh technology, what have you wrought for good or evil and... can I have some more?
Oh technology, what have you wrought for good or evil and... can I have some more?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
boldly going somewhere
Since the middle of March I've been following Brent Spiner on Twitter. Trekkies know him as Lieutenant Commander Data, a Soong type android serving aboard the Enterprise. At first I was following because I was already following Wil Wheaton. They had a dialog between them that all of us Hollywood outsiders could eavesdrop on. They totally sounded normal and geeky in a famous people way. Spiner had just finished "Man from LaMancha" & auctioning his 500th tweet. Then things got strange.
Wondering how to jump start/restart/reboot his career he put himself into an imaginary world only two steps into the pale beyond the reality that we know. Spiner pulled a Serling and went somewhere dark and desperate that could have been real. After only a few posts I was hooked. I've been obsessively signing into Twitter to see where we were going with him. In turns humorous, poignant and puzzling, Spiner's saga was always captivating with its minimalism. Twitter only allows post of 140 characters at a time. Thus an author must be evocative, making the most of this stringent limit.
Spiner gives us dialog, direction and emotion in each post. For a while it seemed as though he were living the life any actor uncertain of his future and frustrated with his agent would live. Events of his life seemed to unfold with the steady pacing each of us see in our lives, a convincing reality where nothing but everything could happen. After the initial joke about kick starting his career with an unnecessary rehab stint and ping pong with James Woods, days ticked away with the kind of everyman updates we had become accustomed to with Wheaton.
But if you know anything about his life you would have to wonder why there were no more posts about events with his son. And why didn't he mention the home cooked dinner Gates McFadden made for the next Generation family as reported by LeVar Burton? The plot isn't interrupted with his Denver convention experience of last week. If there was ever a doubt that he was writing fiction on Twitter these omissions remove all doubt.
Because his tweets were infrequent, irregular and organic his fiction had the feeling of reality. This might account for the confusion among his followers that manifested in a flurry of replies to Spiner's twitterstream on Sunday. The plot twisted. I started thinking.
What makes this so compelling? What does this experimental medium mean for fiction? And the answer is surprising: the audience. Spiner's readership can do with Twitter something that no audience has been able to do before. That is that they can make the author aware of their thoughts as the story is being written. This medium offers opportunity for critique, commentary and community in realtime. In the past an author had to wait for a story to be published to find out how it is recieved through reviews and placement on the New York Times Bestseller List or the dread booksigning. In the past a book club or the book signing was the only way that the audience connected with each other. This is no longer true.
The audience can critque the work in progress, within seconds of the words being printed. And they do, with color and intensity. For the first time in history the author can "hear" the audience's commentary. The audience can tell the scary movie character not to open the door; or in Spiner's case we were yelling at him to get out while the getting was good. I believe I encouraged him to run for his life. I only hope I neglected to add that the Tasmanian Devil was on the lose. Of course just because the author/actor can hear us doesn't mean they listen any better than the canned actors. But the comments are varied and do go off on tangents. The author got to see what was going through the audiences' mind. Fortunately, our author is used to dealing with strange new worlds and packs a phaser... just in case. The author can also see how and why the audience connects. In this case it is obviously the Star Trek stuff. As this is the first time anyone has written a novel/treatment/script using Twitter (that I know off) it is hard to say exactly how this will all play out.
As for what it means for fiction, I can't say. I fear what it says for performance art is the same thing that VHS movies said to the cinema: everyday is casual Friday. I hope that people going to see live performances of any kind remember that they aren't supposed to interact with the cast on stage and that the place to make friends is not in their seats while they are watching but in the cafe afterwards.
In general this has been a fun ride. As of this post it is not over. There is the conclusion yet. Will he? Won't he? I don't know. All I know is that Earl Stanley Gardner would have thrown the book at the audience instead of the defendents on the witness stand.
Wondering how to jump start/restart/reboot his career he put himself into an imaginary world only two steps into the pale beyond the reality that we know. Spiner pulled a Serling and went somewhere dark and desperate that could have been real. After only a few posts I was hooked. I've been obsessively signing into Twitter to see where we were going with him. In turns humorous, poignant and puzzling, Spiner's saga was always captivating with its minimalism. Twitter only allows post of 140 characters at a time. Thus an author must be evocative, making the most of this stringent limit.
Spiner gives us dialog, direction and emotion in each post. For a while it seemed as though he were living the life any actor uncertain of his future and frustrated with his agent would live. Events of his life seemed to unfold with the steady pacing each of us see in our lives, a convincing reality where nothing but everything could happen. After the initial joke about kick starting his career with an unnecessary rehab stint and ping pong with James Woods, days ticked away with the kind of everyman updates we had become accustomed to with Wheaton.
But if you know anything about his life you would have to wonder why there were no more posts about events with his son. And why didn't he mention the home cooked dinner Gates McFadden made for the next Generation family as reported by LeVar Burton? The plot isn't interrupted with his Denver convention experience of last week. If there was ever a doubt that he was writing fiction on Twitter these omissions remove all doubt.
Because his tweets were infrequent, irregular and organic his fiction had the feeling of reality. This might account for the confusion among his followers that manifested in a flurry of replies to Spiner's twitterstream on Sunday. The plot twisted. I started thinking.
What makes this so compelling? What does this experimental medium mean for fiction? And the answer is surprising: the audience. Spiner's readership can do with Twitter something that no audience has been able to do before. That is that they can make the author aware of their thoughts as the story is being written. This medium offers opportunity for critique, commentary and community in realtime. In the past an author had to wait for a story to be published to find out how it is recieved through reviews and placement on the New York Times Bestseller List or the dread booksigning. In the past a book club or the book signing was the only way that the audience connected with each other. This is no longer true.
The audience can critque the work in progress, within seconds of the words being printed. And they do, with color and intensity. For the first time in history the author can "hear" the audience's commentary. The audience can tell the scary movie character not to open the door; or in Spiner's case we were yelling at him to get out while the getting was good. I believe I encouraged him to run for his life. I only hope I neglected to add that the Tasmanian Devil was on the lose. Of course just because the author/actor can hear us doesn't mean they listen any better than the canned actors. But the comments are varied and do go off on tangents. The author got to see what was going through the audiences' mind. Fortunately, our author is used to dealing with strange new worlds and packs a phaser... just in case. The author can also see how and why the audience connects. In this case it is obviously the Star Trek stuff. As this is the first time anyone has written a novel/treatment/script using Twitter (that I know off) it is hard to say exactly how this will all play out.
As for what it means for fiction, I can't say. I fear what it says for performance art is the same thing that VHS movies said to the cinema: everyday is casual Friday. I hope that people going to see live performances of any kind remember that they aren't supposed to interact with the cast on stage and that the place to make friends is not in their seats while they are watching but in the cafe afterwards.
In general this has been a fun ride. As of this post it is not over. There is the conclusion yet. Will he? Won't he? I don't know. All I know is that Earl Stanley Gardner would have thrown the book at the audience instead of the defendents on the witness stand.
left behind
I have had this crazy idea since I was 14; changing my name. It started with wanting to add an e at the end of my name. Mom was insensed that I would do so since that was my aunts name. That was one reason I wanted to do it. And why would she have a problem with honoring her sister? found out later but that is for another post. By the end of highschool my reasons expanded.
My first name is Sherry. Great name since, as I said before, it means "beloved". However not so great when Frankie Valli has immortalized it in a higpitched pleaing song. Then, horror of horrors Steve Perry pops out another little ditty. The superficiality of people with poor judgement in humor aside, I had other reasons. By the time I was ten I had come to dread hearing my name. Full or just the first name it didn't matter. My name had become a curse in our house. And I couldn't stand it. But what would have been a better name?
I had always wanted to be a boy. I thought it would have made dad happier. And I liked Jo from Little Women. And Joe was my best friend's name. But Joe wasn't right for me. And the more names I looked at the less I could find one that seemed like enough to me to change it. In the back of my head I still have this furtive plan to change my name as soon as I can find the money. Until recently I didn't know what to change it to. And I didn't know if I could accept my new name. After all this time I am still Sherry. So how do we identify ourselves?
I wouldn't be thinking about it if I had been on something called yoville yesterday. A friend invited me to play on facebook. You build an avatar and live a virtual life in YoVille. I built my avatar to look as much like me as the options would allow. So now I look like Madonna. I chose a name. It is the nickname my sister gave me when we lived in Marquette. How comfortable am I walking around town with a name that isn't mine? I can interact with any avatar I see so the name has to feel okay. And then there is this thing called Twitter.
It seems, as with all sorts of sites you build for interaction, we build and rebuild our identities all the time. My blog, my email, my facebook and twitter all have different identities, as do the dating sites I am on. The more I am out there, avoiding my brother and trying to become traceless in his world so that I can be the real me in mine, the easier it is to recognize another me. I feel more comfortable in other skins.
But how can that be? How can we have so many identities to be comfortable in? Jews have a habit of changing names with life issues. Government registrations & social security issues make it a sticky wicket to navigate. But maybe this tradition is there because they know something that the rest of us don't know. Maybe, as with Avram and Sarai, we were meant to wear a new name to match the new hat. I felt stupid chosing glyphgeek as my twitter handle because it wasn't me. But why would I chose that as an identity if it wasn't me? So it must be me. And indeed it is. What allows me to be this person?
It is a reflection of a part of me that I didn't share with anyone. Glyph reflects my interest in Stargate, mayan and egyptian heiroglyphs [see what I did there] and geek is obviously the best choice as a descriptor because that is what I am. And I have noticed over the course of the last few weeks that I am so comfortable with my twitter name that I have to stop myself from saying @glyphgeek when introducing myself. This techno world has opened my up to myself because there is no judgement.
Well there is. But this is the most democratic social form because it truly underscores the axiom if you don't like it turn it off. People will start to follow me on twitter for what ever reason. If they become bored with me or angry about what I say they can leave my follow list and never hear from me again. And it happens. It has happened a lot. And I have felt bad. But then more people join my feeds to take their place. They stick around. And those that stick around are growing a community of kindred spirits, developing friendships.
If you made a Venn diagram of the people I follow and who follow me and we follow each other, we find in the overlapping areas of interest a list of connecting points. Those points are descriptions of parts of my personality, parts of who they are. And in that distillation I find that my truest identity is glyphgeek. It is the skin I feel most comfortable in. It is a name completely and uniquely my own. And my tweeps are now calling me "glyph".
I am glad that I can finally settle into myself. I wish other people could do that with as much certainty as I have found for myself. And I wish that I didn't have to do it at the expense of people who were supposed to be my rock and foundation. But they chose to judge, control and attempt to destroy. I have no choice but to leave them behind.
My first name is Sherry. Great name since, as I said before, it means "beloved". However not so great when Frankie Valli has immortalized it in a higpitched pleaing song. Then, horror of horrors Steve Perry pops out another little ditty. The superficiality of people with poor judgement in humor aside, I had other reasons. By the time I was ten I had come to dread hearing my name. Full or just the first name it didn't matter. My name had become a curse in our house. And I couldn't stand it. But what would have been a better name?
I had always wanted to be a boy. I thought it would have made dad happier. And I liked Jo from Little Women. And Joe was my best friend's name. But Joe wasn't right for me. And the more names I looked at the less I could find one that seemed like enough to me to change it. In the back of my head I still have this furtive plan to change my name as soon as I can find the money. Until recently I didn't know what to change it to. And I didn't know if I could accept my new name. After all this time I am still Sherry. So how do we identify ourselves?
I wouldn't be thinking about it if I had been on something called yoville yesterday. A friend invited me to play on facebook. You build an avatar and live a virtual life in YoVille. I built my avatar to look as much like me as the options would allow. So now I look like Madonna. I chose a name. It is the nickname my sister gave me when we lived in Marquette. How comfortable am I walking around town with a name that isn't mine? I can interact with any avatar I see so the name has to feel okay. And then there is this thing called Twitter.
It seems, as with all sorts of sites you build for interaction, we build and rebuild our identities all the time. My blog, my email, my facebook and twitter all have different identities, as do the dating sites I am on. The more I am out there, avoiding my brother and trying to become traceless in his world so that I can be the real me in mine, the easier it is to recognize another me. I feel more comfortable in other skins.
But how can that be? How can we have so many identities to be comfortable in? Jews have a habit of changing names with life issues. Government registrations & social security issues make it a sticky wicket to navigate. But maybe this tradition is there because they know something that the rest of us don't know. Maybe, as with Avram and Sarai, we were meant to wear a new name to match the new hat. I felt stupid chosing glyphgeek as my twitter handle because it wasn't me. But why would I chose that as an identity if it wasn't me? So it must be me. And indeed it is. What allows me to be this person?
It is a reflection of a part of me that I didn't share with anyone. Glyph reflects my interest in Stargate, mayan and egyptian heiroglyphs [see what I did there] and geek is obviously the best choice as a descriptor because that is what I am. And I have noticed over the course of the last few weeks that I am so comfortable with my twitter name that I have to stop myself from saying @glyphgeek when introducing myself. This techno world has opened my up to myself because there is no judgement.
Well there is. But this is the most democratic social form because it truly underscores the axiom if you don't like it turn it off. People will start to follow me on twitter for what ever reason. If they become bored with me or angry about what I say they can leave my follow list and never hear from me again. And it happens. It has happened a lot. And I have felt bad. But then more people join my feeds to take their place. They stick around. And those that stick around are growing a community of kindred spirits, developing friendships.
If you made a Venn diagram of the people I follow and who follow me and we follow each other, we find in the overlapping areas of interest a list of connecting points. Those points are descriptions of parts of my personality, parts of who they are. And in that distillation I find that my truest identity is glyphgeek. It is the skin I feel most comfortable in. It is a name completely and uniquely my own. And my tweeps are now calling me "glyph".
I am glad that I can finally settle into myself. I wish other people could do that with as much certainty as I have found for myself. And I wish that I didn't have to do it at the expense of people who were supposed to be my rock and foundation. But they chose to judge, control and attempt to destroy. I have no choice but to leave them behind.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thor hates me
No really, I mean it. I can't think of a better reason for all of my Thursday's at work to tank before I ever punch in other than the fact that the god for whom the day was named, Thor, hates me. I have been wracking my brain for a year now to figure this out. And it hit me like a bolt yesterday... Thor hates me.
I don't know what I did to the cute little Asgaard whose loss I mourned as much as Deforrest Kelley's. Generally everyone likes me. The insub doesn't count; she's a monkey wrench. So how could I have pissed off the little guy? He is a Kirk kind of trekkie and doesn't like my constant Klingon quoting barbs thrown in Shatner's vast general vicinity. It's the only explaination I can find. But, as today has been so wonderful, I have to say that Saturn, the god of Saturday is totally on my side on this one.
Today was great. The insub took an unscheduled shower when, while cleaning a shower stall, the handle caught on her shoulder and dumped cold water on her, "I refuse to give her a pleasant good morning", grumpy butt. Then I found tips right before lunch. Having proudly presented them to the maintenance guy as proof that Saturday's gods like me, he says "Brad ordered everyone pizza". And Friday I told my twitteratti that he sometimes does that. WTG Brad! Then another room left me M&Ms and Dave brought in the surprise he told me he was bringing me. The surprise was a Star Trek Original Series sketchbook of how the whole shabang was done. It was a great Saturday. And even better is coming online to find that the twitterverse is happily dumping good things in my lap.
Now if only Fancast will work right and let me watch CSI's geek homage without a stutter.
Saturn loves me. He really really loves me. And I love him.
I don't know what I did to the cute little Asgaard whose loss I mourned as much as Deforrest Kelley's. Generally everyone likes me. The insub doesn't count; she's a monkey wrench. So how could I have pissed off the little guy? He is a Kirk kind of trekkie and doesn't like my constant Klingon quoting barbs thrown in Shatner's vast general vicinity. It's the only explaination I can find. But, as today has been so wonderful, I have to say that Saturn, the god of Saturday is totally on my side on this one.
Today was great. The insub took an unscheduled shower when, while cleaning a shower stall, the handle caught on her shoulder and dumped cold water on her, "I refuse to give her a pleasant good morning", grumpy butt. Then I found tips right before lunch. Having proudly presented them to the maintenance guy as proof that Saturday's gods like me, he says "Brad ordered everyone pizza". And Friday I told my twitteratti that he sometimes does that. WTG Brad! Then another room left me M&Ms and Dave brought in the surprise he told me he was bringing me. The surprise was a Star Trek Original Series sketchbook of how the whole shabang was done. It was a great Saturday. And even better is coming online to find that the twitterverse is happily dumping good things in my lap.
Now if only Fancast will work right and let me watch CSI's geek homage without a stutter.
Saturn loves me. He really really loves me. And I love him.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
twitter twits
I can not figure out how people like the local news crew, ancestry.com and other "big" names know I exist to follow me on twitter. I don't even know how it is that the little guys find me or why I am being followed.
If I start to sound paranoid I can chalk it up to poorly chosing "followed" as the twitter verb or my guilt complex that is growing because I knw I should be working with bro instead of at cross purposes. Not for him, but so that my life can move forward. Frak what he wants and frell him for making me think that I should care. It is a puzzle.
I am sad too because my first coffee love is gone teh way of the arcade games. The stations espresso is gone. They put up a valiant fight to remain in business. But the saturated market and the falling economy made the choice inevitable. I don't know how the market is saturated... there can never be enough coffee. This was my first coffee refuge, a haven of fine beans and great atmosphere. Elle and Dieter even began importing German treats like Lebkuchen straight from the old hometown. Well... close to the old hometown. Alas... a portend of things to pass.
If I start to sound paranoid I can chalk it up to poorly chosing "followed" as the twitter verb or my guilt complex that is growing because I knw I should be working with bro instead of at cross purposes. Not for him, but so that my life can move forward. Frak what he wants and frell him for making me think that I should care. It is a puzzle.
I am sad too because my first coffee love is gone teh way of the arcade games. The stations espresso is gone. They put up a valiant fight to remain in business. But the saturated market and the falling economy made the choice inevitable. I don't know how the market is saturated... there can never be enough coffee. This was my first coffee refuge, a haven of fine beans and great atmosphere. Elle and Dieter even began importing German treats like Lebkuchen straight from the old hometown. Well... close to the old hometown. Alas... a portend of things to pass.
Monday, March 2, 2009
twitterverse
So I have a bunch of followers on twitter that I never expected. And some old friends who have joined the twitterverse. In all, its quite amazing. I am enthralled. Almost. Enthralled to the degree to which one must actually mean the word would mean that I would never do anything else for a week.
I love twitter. This is the kind of thing garaunteed to make a broader world.
I love twitter. This is the kind of thing garaunteed to make a broader world.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Twitterpated
In many senses of the word.
First let me say, the Wheaton is responsible for bringing me over to this site. No, I'm not a whatever wil does I will do person. But, it did seem to make some sense to me to be where the geeks are. And he hasn't steered me wrong yet.
So I love Twitter. Twitter is full of people that I would have no contact with, or hope of contacting otherwise. Brent Spiner, LeVar Burton, Kevin Pollak are among those that I am following in addition to the Wheaton. I have 5 followers myself. Some of whom I have no idea how they know me. Mendelson and Flowersmeller to be precise. And from Facebook, my classmate Kathleen and I are the cutting edge of crossing these two social networks in our circle. It is wonderful. I am finding the world to be only as small as my perceptions. So this is an experiment in expanding imagination. And the list of people I am hoping to make contact with is expanding daily. Top of the list is the board leader of another kind of twitterpation:
I would love to meet Michael T. Weiss. And yes, ACG, I do have a crush on him. The more I read about him the deeper the crush. But, again. It is the Aquarian connection. He is quite a wonderful fine artists as well as actor. And his 2007 Repression series seems to have been tackled while I was tackling my own... obviously with different motifs. I'm still stuck in my genie bottle. He seems to have been stuck otherwise. Of course, there is really no way to know by the works if the issue is resolved. I tell you mine is not because I am still in process with the Chakra series, which I am hoping will lead to a breakthrough in allowing myself to be honest with myself and self image. His? Who knows. But it is a fabulous look at the issue from another perspective. Of course his perspective is a bit darker, perhaps one could say more adventurous. But as I recognised my own feelings immediately, I'm guessing it's just more honest. Which means more blunt. And, it is more distilled. Repression is not the only issue in my pieces. Of course when that is the only issue the imagery will be more startling.
All in all, I think that my recent spate of connecting with Aqaurians across the board is the biggest actraction to Michael T. Weiss. We tend to feel more kindred toward each other as we mature where, as I said to a friend the other day, as children we try to enforce our own Utopian visions. We are the egocrats. And we don't even know it then. Of course we think only of what is best for everyone but we fall so in love with our ideal that its hard to believe no one wants to participate in our vision. As adults we get to a point where we can embrace a multiverse right here in our own dimension sans wormholes and stargates. It takes a lot of growing up. As for what is best for the world, we have to reduce those visions to the lowerst common denominator and strive for that goal. For almost all of us it is the environment; giving back to that which sustains us. Afterall, and as a sci-fi geek this is hard to admit, it is the only planet we have. If there are other class M planets with sustainable atmospheres suitable for colonization there will most likely be Klingons/Romulans and Ferengi vying for same. Trust me... they share as well as we do. So we have to take care of this one. Very little of what we have is renewable at the same rate at which it is consumed.
Twitterpated is good. It is a slow way to make connections. But... if we are disconnected we die.
First let me say, the Wheaton is responsible for bringing me over to this site. No, I'm not a whatever wil does I will do person. But, it did seem to make some sense to me to be where the geeks are. And he hasn't steered me wrong yet.
So I love Twitter. Twitter is full of people that I would have no contact with, or hope of contacting otherwise. Brent Spiner, LeVar Burton, Kevin Pollak are among those that I am following in addition to the Wheaton. I have 5 followers myself. Some of whom I have no idea how they know me. Mendelson and Flowersmeller to be precise. And from Facebook, my classmate Kathleen and I are the cutting edge of crossing these two social networks in our circle. It is wonderful. I am finding the world to be only as small as my perceptions. So this is an experiment in expanding imagination. And the list of people I am hoping to make contact with is expanding daily. Top of the list is the board leader of another kind of twitterpation:
I would love to meet Michael T. Weiss. And yes, ACG, I do have a crush on him. The more I read about him the deeper the crush. But, again. It is the Aquarian connection. He is quite a wonderful fine artists as well as actor. And his 2007 Repression series seems to have been tackled while I was tackling my own... obviously with different motifs. I'm still stuck in my genie bottle. He seems to have been stuck otherwise. Of course, there is really no way to know by the works if the issue is resolved. I tell you mine is not because I am still in process with the Chakra series, which I am hoping will lead to a breakthrough in allowing myself to be honest with myself and self image. His? Who knows. But it is a fabulous look at the issue from another perspective. Of course his perspective is a bit darker, perhaps one could say more adventurous. But as I recognised my own feelings immediately, I'm guessing it's just more honest. Which means more blunt. And, it is more distilled. Repression is not the only issue in my pieces. Of course when that is the only issue the imagery will be more startling.
All in all, I think that my recent spate of connecting with Aqaurians across the board is the biggest actraction to Michael T. Weiss. We tend to feel more kindred toward each other as we mature where, as I said to a friend the other day, as children we try to enforce our own Utopian visions. We are the egocrats. And we don't even know it then. Of course we think only of what is best for everyone but we fall so in love with our ideal that its hard to believe no one wants to participate in our vision. As adults we get to a point where we can embrace a multiverse right here in our own dimension sans wormholes and stargates. It takes a lot of growing up. As for what is best for the world, we have to reduce those visions to the lowerst common denominator and strive for that goal. For almost all of us it is the environment; giving back to that which sustains us. Afterall, and as a sci-fi geek this is hard to admit, it is the only planet we have. If there are other class M planets with sustainable atmospheres suitable for colonization there will most likely be Klingons/Romulans and Ferengi vying for same. Trust me... they share as well as we do. So we have to take care of this one. Very little of what we have is renewable at the same rate at which it is consumed.
Twitterpated is good. It is a slow way to make connections. But... if we are disconnected we die.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
in which the well runs dry
Well, not exactly dry but a bit crusty from lime build up.
So I've been on Twitter for a couple of days and here's the surreal thing; I have people following me that I've never heard of. And more surreal is that the people I have chosen to follow have turned around and followed me. Except Wheaton and he said that would be the case because then he would never leave the Internets. But I was a bit surprised, very pleasantly, that Kath is fllowing. And I was even more surprised that following Wil has lead me to follow.... wait for it... Brent Spiner and LeVarBurton!!!!!!
CLEAN UP ON AISLE 5!
I'm also following someone who posts way more than anyone else. And it's hard to beat wil when he gets going. But really - Data and Geordi! Get real! It is so freaking awesome. Rawk on!
And the coolest thing about today is that I am actually feeling connections in the world growing like I'm growing new nerve endings or something. It's strange but cool. I feel like I am part of something. There is no better feeling.
Now, if only I could figure out this compulsion to want to be on the computer all the time now. It may be the new toy thing it may be that I have been starved for expanded contact. Whatever it is... it feels good even if it feels scarry.
Too much Outer Limits as a teen.
So I've been on Twitter for a couple of days and here's the surreal thing; I have people following me that I've never heard of. And more surreal is that the people I have chosen to follow have turned around and followed me. Except Wheaton and he said that would be the case because then he would never leave the Internets. But I was a bit surprised, very pleasantly, that Kath is fllowing. And I was even more surprised that following Wil has lead me to follow.... wait for it... Brent Spiner and LeVarBurton!!!!!!
CLEAN UP ON AISLE 5!
I'm also following someone who posts way more than anyone else. And it's hard to beat wil when he gets going. But really - Data and Geordi! Get real! It is so freaking awesome. Rawk on!
And the coolest thing about today is that I am actually feeling connections in the world growing like I'm growing new nerve endings or something. It's strange but cool. I feel like I am part of something. There is no better feeling.
Now, if only I could figure out this compulsion to want to be on the computer all the time now. It may be the new toy thing it may be that I have been starved for expanded contact. Whatever it is... it feels good even if it feels scarry.
Too much Outer Limits as a teen.
Friday, February 6, 2009
follow me on twitter
I finally broke down and got a twitter account. It's really not going to be useful to me until I explore more of the blog-o-sphere. But it will help me just get some thoughts out there. And I am hoping that it will get me into the mood to meet people for real. I must say, if I were the kind of person to carry a calling card, the thing would be quite crowded with places to reach/follow/comment at me.
And how ridiculous would a personal calling card be in this techno age?
And how ridiculous would a personal calling card be in this techno age?
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