The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
I Heart the Mayor
Why did I feel like crying, seeing Mayor Bloomberg, standing on our congregation's bimah (pulpit) tonight? I figured it out in the moment: I was staring at him with a lump in my throat, thinking, He's not very big...his tie is a cheerful pink-orange color and perfectly knotted and dimpled...he's getting a standing ovation from us and why do I feel like standing...? His being here is a simple, powerful sign of respect for my people and me; that's why.
On Sunday, Fred Phelps and his crew will be protesting our synagogue and I worried during the packed service that maybe one of them would be arriving early and would opt to blow us up. I thought, too bad I'm sitting so close to the front of the church because it will be extra-tough to get out if the need to do so should arise -- seats were saved up front for my hard-of-hearing friend, her partner and me (Pat was at the U.S. Open).
Pat's wry, sad comment whenever I worry about that, e.g., when thousands of us meet at the Javits Center for High Holiday services, is, "Don't worry, Sarah, they won't hurt us because who would be upset to hear that a bunch of gay Jews had been killed?" Oy!
My big wish in life is always to transform indignities into art and my thoughts of being imperiled strike me as an indignity I suffered even as I visited it upon myself.
What would art be by contrast? Which art could combat the "God Hates Fags" fans of Fred Phelps? I'm recalling my dinner conversation with my friends and it begins to counter him, just replaying the dialogue in my head, i.e., his hate might be in the air, but our love and loveliness is, too:
At dinner, among other topics, like exquisite salt, a special restaurant in Vietnam, the time-suck of Facebook and the essential nature of micro-blogging, we talked about how flirting manifests itself, and how none of us feels like we're naturally-inclined to flirt.
"Yeah, but what about that time in the elevator between you two?" I asked, recalling their narrative of the first time they saw each other and the electricity of the meeting.
One of them responded, "That wasn't flirting; that was a fait accompli."
The whole discussion on flirting was in response to my saying, "I'd tell this story if Pat were here, too [and did tell Pat the other night, after it happened], but I had such a great time at work the other day: I was at the Watson Research Lab in Yorktown Heights for an internal conference and I spotted a lesbian Researcher I knew from an EAGLE dinner [EAGLE is our GLBT employee group] a number of years ago. She was walking down the hall in jeans, which happens in Research, and suddenly, even though I was in a very grownup suit, like most of the people at the conference, I felt less alone there -- like I was not by myself."
I spoke her name, but it turned out to be the name of the only other openly-lesbian IBM Researcher with whom I'm slightly acquainted, rather than hers. I don't even know if they know each other. If so, well...I was embarrassed in any case.
"You have triplets, right?" I asked her, trying to redeem myself, memory-wise.
She smiled generously, "Yes."
"Well, it's good to see you. Are you still working on that cool project? The one, where I was the only non-Researcher, who called in to hear your presentation and asked all those questions that revealed how little I knew?
She smiled again. Her smile relaxed me and also made me feel like she was either deeply amused by me, or also delighted by not being the only one of her kind for a short bit of her day: "I'm working on solar panels now," she said.
"As in solar energy?"
"Yeah."
"Wow, you're reminding me of my 7th grade science project. I won Honorable Mention in the Connecticut State Science Fair for 'An Answer is Blowing in the Wind.'"
"Wind generators," she said animatedly.
"Right. Ah, you make me feel like I'm 12 again, which is a good thing," I said, and began to walk away.
She turned and walked away, smiling further.
"That never happens at work, you guys," I said, feeling a bit sheepish, "Typically, I never flirt anywhere, but it felt great for the two of us to be right there in the glass-hallway, enjoying that rare moment of feeling totally at home beyond our homes.
One of my friends said, "Sure, and it was a lift."
It was. It did lift my spirits. I went into the conference more confident, more receptive and happier.
Wouldn't it be nice to figure out how to feel at home beyond my home more often...without having to flirt with a genius mother of triplets.
Showing posts with label Facebook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Facebook. Show all posts
Friday, June 19, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Disrespecting My Blog
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
Writing an Entry While Watching "Rescue Me"
One of my close relatives created a Facebook profile today. The first scene of "Rescue Me" reminds me of the first few lines of this week's "New Yorker" story.
I sent a suggested photo to my relative to use as the profile picture. This relative and I are so different. God, I'm hungry for dinner.
Our lawn-mower broke and so our neighbor Sam mowed the rest of it for us. How great is that? Tomorrow night, is my final class of the semester. What did I learn? I learned about synchronicity and that's the biggest thing. I don't know how I'll be different as a result of that class, Time and Learning.
Learning is so like that, in every realm. We know, as educators, that we're helping others grow, but why isn't it more quantifiable?
Why did a colleague discount Twitter earlier today? Same reason my relative is reluctantly now on Facebook. What sort of person is attracted to social technologies and what sort, repelled?
Well, I wonder if there are any narcissists who don't value social media, i.e., can someone who avoids all of these forums -- blogs, microblogs, social network profiles et al -- be nonetheless narcissistic? I'm reminded of a tweet I created some months ago, about how I've never been so self-absorbed and so social at once since the advent of all of these public posting and exchange opportunities. My thread is more coherent now, as the TV's on mute while Pat's generously preparing our dinner, so I can blog. God, I'm hungry.
Writing an Entry While Watching "Rescue Me"
One of my close relatives created a Facebook profile today. The first scene of "Rescue Me" reminds me of the first few lines of this week's "New Yorker" story.
I sent a suggested photo to my relative to use as the profile picture. This relative and I are so different. God, I'm hungry for dinner.
Our lawn-mower broke and so our neighbor Sam mowed the rest of it for us. How great is that? Tomorrow night, is my final class of the semester. What did I learn? I learned about synchronicity and that's the biggest thing. I don't know how I'll be different as a result of that class, Time and Learning.
Learning is so like that, in every realm. We know, as educators, that we're helping others grow, but why isn't it more quantifiable?
Why did a colleague discount Twitter earlier today? Same reason my relative is reluctantly now on Facebook. What sort of person is attracted to social technologies and what sort, repelled?
Well, I wonder if there are any narcissists who don't value social media, i.e., can someone who avoids all of these forums -- blogs, microblogs, social network profiles et al -- be nonetheless narcissistic? I'm reminded of a tweet I created some months ago, about how I've never been so self-absorbed and so social at once since the advent of all of these public posting and exchange opportunities. My thread is more coherent now, as the TV's on mute while Pat's generously preparing our dinner, so I can blog. God, I'm hungry.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Books
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
Reprinted from My Facebook Profile Note
A high school friend invited me to post my answers to these questions:
1) What author do you own the most books by?
It's a tie among Amos Oz, E. Lynn Harris and A.M. Homes.
2) What book do you own the most copies of?
I think I have two copies of *The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay*
3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
No.
4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Flannery O'Connor's Hulga in "Good Country People."
5) What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children)?
"Hiawatha."
6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
*A Wrinkle in Time*
7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
*Watchmen*
8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?
Reading it now, I have a feeling: Jonathan Lethem's *Motherless Brooklyn*
9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
James Stephens' *The Crock of Gold*.
10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for Literature?
Alison Bechdel for *Fun Home*
11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
*Hey, Dollface!* by Deborah Hautzig
12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
*I and Thou* by Martin Buber
13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
It was a daydream; I was reading *Orlando* during a really foggy string of days during college and I affiliated with the protagonist, unnervingly so
14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?
All of E. Lynn Harris', but they're so much fun.
15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
*Night* by Elie Wiesel.
16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?
Does seeing "Romeo & Juliet" in modern-dress during the Disco era count?
17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
Indians.
18) Roth or Updike?
Vonnegut.
19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
Margaret Cho.
20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Isaac Bashevis Singer.
21) Austen or Eliot?
Dorothy Parker.
22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
Most of the Classics.
23) What is your favorite novel?
*A Confederacy of Dunces*
24) Play?
"'night, Mother"
25) Poem?
Anything by Adrienne Rich or Sharon Olds or Susannah Sheffer
26) Essay?
A number of my own, on my blog.
27) Short story?
Any by Flannery O'Connor, but especially "Good Country People"
28) Work of nonfiction?
*Truth & Beauty: A Friendship*
29) Who is your favorite writer?
Flannery O'Connor
30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
It's not for me to judge.
31) What is your desert island book?
*Babyji* and my synagogue's siddur
32) And... what are you reading right now?
Louis Begley's book on Kafka along with *Motherless Brooklyn,* depending on my mood.
Reprinted from My Facebook Profile Note
A high school friend invited me to post my answers to these questions:
1) What author do you own the most books by?
It's a tie among Amos Oz, E. Lynn Harris and A.M. Homes.
2) What book do you own the most copies of?
I think I have two copies of *The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay*
3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
No.
4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Flannery O'Connor's Hulga in "Good Country People."
5) What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children)?
"Hiawatha."
6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
*A Wrinkle in Time*
7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
*Watchmen*
8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?
Reading it now, I have a feeling: Jonathan Lethem's *Motherless Brooklyn*
9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
James Stephens' *The Crock of Gold*.
10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for Literature?
Alison Bechdel for *Fun Home*
11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
*Hey, Dollface!* by Deborah Hautzig
12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
*I and Thou* by Martin Buber
13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
It was a daydream; I was reading *Orlando* during a really foggy string of days during college and I affiliated with the protagonist, unnervingly so
14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?
All of E. Lynn Harris', but they're so much fun.
15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
*Night* by Elie Wiesel.
16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?
Does seeing "Romeo & Juliet" in modern-dress during the Disco era count?
17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
Indians.
18) Roth or Updike?
Vonnegut.
19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
Margaret Cho.
20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Isaac Bashevis Singer.
21) Austen or Eliot?
Dorothy Parker.
22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
Most of the Classics.
23) What is your favorite novel?
*A Confederacy of Dunces*
24) Play?
"'night, Mother"
25) Poem?
Anything by Adrienne Rich or Sharon Olds or Susannah Sheffer
26) Essay?
A number of my own, on my blog.
27) Short story?
Any by Flannery O'Connor, but especially "Good Country People"
28) Work of nonfiction?
*Truth & Beauty: A Friendship*
29) Who is your favorite writer?
Flannery O'Connor
30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
It's not for me to judge.
31) What is your desert island book?
*Babyji* and my synagogue's siddur
32) And... what are you reading right now?
Louis Begley's book on Kafka along with *Motherless Brooklyn,* depending on my mood.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Feeling Like I've Been to Cuba...
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
Via Chicago and the Lower East Side
Turning left a couple of blocks before Katz's Famous Delicatessen, I begged an apparently Indian or Pakistani cabbie to pull up, so that there would be room for me to park in front of a nail salon run, perhaps, by Dominicans, who gave me quarters for dollars, so I could pay the Munimeter before eating at the Turkish Kebab House II prior to my final destination, Bluestockings, a radical, feminist bookstore, where two Cuban writers were reading from their new books. I knew of one of them from my near-decade in Chicago: Achy Obejas.
Had the reading by Achy taken place at Women & Children First in Chicago, and had I still lived there, I would have been heading to the Swedish-Arabic-Lesbian neighborhood...but it hadn't and I hadn't, so I didn't. Rather, I raced to the Lower East Side from Armonk. How different my life was from when I first met Achy!
In the late-80s, she was doing an article, I think, for one of the papers, on the International Mr. Leather contest. Achy listened in to my "10% Show" interview of International Ms. Leather that we were filming before conducting, I imagine, one of her own. ("The 10% Show" was all about showcasing the various facets of gay and lesbian culture, but not bi and trans culture as intentionally back then.)
The International Mr. Leather convention remains a huge, annual event in Chicago, and as I've written here before, International Ms. Leather said that she loved being part of the Leather Community because her mother was German and had been in World II -- and she made a parenthetical remark about her mother's "regalia" from the War. Afterwards, Achy came over to me and said she was pleased that toward the end of the interview, I had said to International Ms. Leather, "Can we talk a bit more about your mother?"
Gumming Up the Works of My Routine-Machine
There was no time to go to the reading tonight, but the Time & Learning course I'm taking this semester is making me extra-conscious of how I spend my time, and of my time as something to go (relatively) wild with now and then, so that I'm not just a routine-machine.
Walking into the shop, which turned out to be a volunteer-run collective, I thought: You should have opted to hear Achy at the 92nd Street Y tomorrow night instead; clearly, that's where the grownups will be -- actually, I had a work conflict.
Was I really going to have to sit in a plastic, grocery-store chair in an overheated, little storefront-room, surrounded by bare-plywood shelves of books and magazines and 'zines that might have gripped me 20 years ago, but which now seemed outre/fringe-y and in some cases, offensive? Looking at T-shirts on the wall emblazoned with statements like, "I had an abortion," or featuring a hand-drawn bicycle, with the statement under it, "Put the joy between your legs!" I had to admit to myself that I was not going to feel at home in my business-suit and dress-coat. Why hadn't I come in disguise?
In 1988, hadn't I helped crew for "The 10% Show's" segment on the Queer 'zine Convention, wearing an olive, Chicago Boy Scouts, long-sleeved, button-down shirt that I'd found in a thrift shop? Back then, that wasn't a disguise, though; it was simply me in my early-20s....
One of the last open seats was next to a woman with super-fast fingers who was busy, tapping on her Blackberry. I felt shy to sit down among strangers, but steeled myself. In talking with her, I got what I came for.
First, we marveled at the rack that stood at eye-level across from us. "'zines!" she exclaimed, "with real staples and paper. I'm so sick of blogs."
I smiled.
What had inspired her to attend the reading? I asked.
"I grew up in Chicago and used to read her column in the paper."
"I lived in Chicago for a long while myself, and knew Achy's writing from then, too."
"What took you to Chicago?" she asked.
"I was escaping," I said, "-- couldn't imagine going back home after coming out as a lesbian; my family was understanding, but I didn't want to run into classmates from the Jewish day school I had attended. So I just stayed out there and took an internship at a magazine that folded within a year of its launch, 'Inside Chicago.'"
"I remember it."
"Really?"
She nodded and then said, "I was doing the same thing, only I came from Chicago to [school here], so I could come out where no one knew me, and 20 years later, I'm still here." Her family turned out to be accepting and she was Jewish as well, and simply opted to stay in this part of the country.
We smiled at each other. "I've found a kindred spirit," I said. We learned that both of us had found out about the reading through Facebook. This was a first for me: attending a cultural event that I had learned about in Facebook, and then meeting someone new who I'd want to "friend" on Facebook when I got home.
"You're a writer?" I asked.
"I write," she responded, and then, "How about you? Did you stay with magazine writing?"
"No, but I'm a blogger."
"Who do you blog for?" she asked, smiling sheepishly, I think, due to her earlier reference to blogs, and then the MC came to the mike and began the program.
I responded to her on paper, with tongue in cheek, "~20 people a day love it [the blog]. I work for IBM in Leadership Development. You?"
She wrote back, "I'm a freelance writer, but recently took a full-time job as [an editor at a giant, popular magazine]."
Through their readings, both of the authors took us to Cuba within the past 15 years, and I was happy to be able to ask Achy two questions -- about her hope for social change through her writing, and whether her parents were now proud of her, since she had authored a book years ago called *We Came All the Way from Cuba So You Could Dress Like That?*
Toward the end of the Q&A, I wrote my audience-neighbor a note: "I'm Sarah Siegel. May I 'friend' you on Facebook? (Just friends. I saw your ring, like mine.)"
She smiled and nodded.
After clapping and promising to be in touch with my new friend, I excused myself and re-introduced myself to Achy, reminding her of the International Ms. Leather interview; she chuckled, whether or not with any recollection, and was generous in signing the book I'd purchased.
Seeing Achy, I knew I'd have a nostalgic pang of, "Those were the days," i.e., the days of "The 10% Show," but it also paid to live in the present, I was reminded; twenty years ago, my new Facebook friend was a freshman in college and I had recently graduated, and probably, neither of us were sure of ourselves in the ways we are now, plus, it would have taken me longer to get home after the reading back then, relying as I was then on public transportation, or on my real-life version of the bicycle in that bold T-shirt.
Via Chicago and the Lower East Side
Turning left a couple of blocks before Katz's Famous Delicatessen, I begged an apparently Indian or Pakistani cabbie to pull up, so that there would be room for me to park in front of a nail salon run, perhaps, by Dominicans, who gave me quarters for dollars, so I could pay the Munimeter before eating at the Turkish Kebab House II prior to my final destination, Bluestockings, a radical, feminist bookstore, where two Cuban writers were reading from their new books. I knew of one of them from my near-decade in Chicago: Achy Obejas.
Had the reading by Achy taken place at Women & Children First in Chicago, and had I still lived there, I would have been heading to the Swedish-Arabic-Lesbian neighborhood...but it hadn't and I hadn't, so I didn't. Rather, I raced to the Lower East Side from Armonk. How different my life was from when I first met Achy!
In the late-80s, she was doing an article, I think, for one of the papers, on the International Mr. Leather contest. Achy listened in to my "10% Show" interview of International Ms. Leather that we were filming before conducting, I imagine, one of her own. ("The 10% Show" was all about showcasing the various facets of gay and lesbian culture, but not bi and trans culture as intentionally back then.)
The International Mr. Leather convention remains a huge, annual event in Chicago, and as I've written here before, International Ms. Leather said that she loved being part of the Leather Community because her mother was German and had been in World II -- and she made a parenthetical remark about her mother's "regalia" from the War. Afterwards, Achy came over to me and said she was pleased that toward the end of the interview, I had said to International Ms. Leather, "Can we talk a bit more about your mother?"
Gumming Up the Works of My Routine-Machine
There was no time to go to the reading tonight, but the Time & Learning course I'm taking this semester is making me extra-conscious of how I spend my time, and of my time as something to go (relatively) wild with now and then, so that I'm not just a routine-machine.
Walking into the shop, which turned out to be a volunteer-run collective, I thought: You should have opted to hear Achy at the 92nd Street Y tomorrow night instead; clearly, that's where the grownups will be -- actually, I had a work conflict.
Was I really going to have to sit in a plastic, grocery-store chair in an overheated, little storefront-room, surrounded by bare-plywood shelves of books and magazines and 'zines that might have gripped me 20 years ago, but which now seemed outre/fringe-y and in some cases, offensive? Looking at T-shirts on the wall emblazoned with statements like, "I had an abortion," or featuring a hand-drawn bicycle, with the statement under it, "Put the joy between your legs!" I had to admit to myself that I was not going to feel at home in my business-suit and dress-coat. Why hadn't I come in disguise?
In 1988, hadn't I helped crew for "The 10% Show's" segment on the Queer 'zine Convention, wearing an olive, Chicago Boy Scouts, long-sleeved, button-down shirt that I'd found in a thrift shop? Back then, that wasn't a disguise, though; it was simply me in my early-20s....
One of the last open seats was next to a woman with super-fast fingers who was busy, tapping on her Blackberry. I felt shy to sit down among strangers, but steeled myself. In talking with her, I got what I came for.
First, we marveled at the rack that stood at eye-level across from us. "'zines!" she exclaimed, "with real staples and paper. I'm so sick of blogs."
I smiled.
What had inspired her to attend the reading? I asked.
"I grew up in Chicago and used to read her column in the paper."
"I lived in Chicago for a long while myself, and knew Achy's writing from then, too."
"What took you to Chicago?" she asked.
"I was escaping," I said, "-- couldn't imagine going back home after coming out as a lesbian; my family was understanding, but I didn't want to run into classmates from the Jewish day school I had attended. So I just stayed out there and took an internship at a magazine that folded within a year of its launch, 'Inside Chicago.'"
"I remember it."
"Really?"
She nodded and then said, "I was doing the same thing, only I came from Chicago to [school here], so I could come out where no one knew me, and 20 years later, I'm still here." Her family turned out to be accepting and she was Jewish as well, and simply opted to stay in this part of the country.
We smiled at each other. "I've found a kindred spirit," I said. We learned that both of us had found out about the reading through Facebook. This was a first for me: attending a cultural event that I had learned about in Facebook, and then meeting someone new who I'd want to "friend" on Facebook when I got home.
"You're a writer?" I asked.
"I write," she responded, and then, "How about you? Did you stay with magazine writing?"
"No, but I'm a blogger."
"Who do you blog for?" she asked, smiling sheepishly, I think, due to her earlier reference to blogs, and then the MC came to the mike and began the program.
I responded to her on paper, with tongue in cheek, "~20 people a day love it [the blog]. I work for IBM in Leadership Development. You?"
She wrote back, "I'm a freelance writer, but recently took a full-time job as [an editor at a giant, popular magazine]."
Through their readings, both of the authors took us to Cuba within the past 15 years, and I was happy to be able to ask Achy two questions -- about her hope for social change through her writing, and whether her parents were now proud of her, since she had authored a book years ago called *We Came All the Way from Cuba So You Could Dress Like That?*
Toward the end of the Q&A, I wrote my audience-neighbor a note: "I'm Sarah Siegel. May I 'friend' you on Facebook? (Just friends. I saw your ring, like mine.)"
She smiled and nodded.
After clapping and promising to be in touch with my new friend, I excused myself and re-introduced myself to Achy, reminding her of the International Ms. Leather interview; she chuckled, whether or not with any recollection, and was generous in signing the book I'd purchased.
Seeing Achy, I knew I'd have a nostalgic pang of, "Those were the days," i.e., the days of "The 10% Show," but it also paid to live in the present, I was reminded; twenty years ago, my new Facebook friend was a freshman in college and I had recently graduated, and probably, neither of us were sure of ourselves in the ways we are now, plus, it would have taken me longer to get home after the reading back then, relying as I was then on public transportation, or on my real-life version of the bicycle in that bold T-shirt.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
First Life Interfered
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
...with My Second Life
"Uh, I'm sorry, but I've gotta go. There's a big, menacing guy right behind me in Second Life -- a virtual world -- and I've gotta get away from him."
"Um, OK."
"Do you know what an avatar is?"
"Uh, no."
"Well, I'm supposed to meet my friend in Second Life, a virtual world, right now, but she's also got a New Jersey number and I thought it was her, calling, so I hope you'll understand...."
"Uh, sure, I can tell you're unable to talk right now, so I was just calling about [the artists' support group that meets in Montclair on Monday nights]...."
"Yes, let's talk tomorrow 'cause we might not be meeting tomorrow night due to the holiday [Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday] and I'll know by then."
"OK."
"Thanks. I know I didn't make much sense, but I appreciate your understanding. Bye."
So the picture here proves that I got away from the scary person and did find my friend at one of what she tells me are the many, relaxing, beautiful sims (places) available to visit in the Second Life virtual world. We were starting slowly to try to re-kindle a friendship that had lasted from ages eight-14, and which had ended with hurt feelings. We had found each other through Facebook, met once face-to-face, and then agreed, the next time, we'd meet in Second Life, since she was super-experienced, and I was a newish fan.
Hair Was the Chief Motivation
The mission was for us to fix my hair. Already, I had selected a style from the default female choices; it was mullet-y and wholly unattractive. In fact, a colleague had threatened earlier this year not to present with me about virtual worlds at an industry conference unless I improved my appearance. Perhaps I wrote about it here prior, as it took me aback, coming from someone who, in real-life, wears jeans to work -- she's a 3D Internet expert and they get to wear whatever they want to work, and sometimes seem to have a relatively casual aesthetic sense about how they appear in real-life.
Fortunately, she relented, as I opted, instead, to present about the IBM Metaverse, where I have a super-appealing avatar, if I do say so:
But back in Second Life with my friend, I still looked worse than I do in real-life. We were going to change all that this afternoon...until Second Life crashed.
Old Feelings Triggered by a New Social Medium
"When is a less busy time to go in?" I picked up the phone and called my friend to ask her, "I mean, 30 minutes ago, there were somewhere around 70,000 people online, and now, 67,000."
"In the past month or so, I've seen it be pretty steady at around 70,000 people, so I don't know of a less busy time; usually, I'm in on week-nights between 9 and 11 pm and you can try me then."
I was crestfallen; aside from that time-period, typically being my Pat/TV/dinner/reading time before I pass out for the night, I was feeling anxieties like I had had toward the end of our childhood friendship -- whether irrationally or not did not matter. For example:
"Well, I don't want to interrupt you from whomever you're with at that point, so --"
"I'll let you know if I'm busy."
"OK," I tried to sound brave, and we hung up.
Ugh, this was what happened to us as kids. Ultimately, often, there was a friend even more fun than I that she opted to play with.
I did not want to re-live *that* experience.
Ninety minutes later, I tried coming in again and got lucky, until my friend's camera stopped working and so she left and was going to return, and then meantime, I vaporized my own avatar like so:
I logged out and sent a direct message via Twitter to my 3D Internet expert colleague-friend, asking her to remind me how to restore my avatar, since the same thing had happened some months back, and she had helped me then.
Meanwhile, in real-life, I'm hungry for dinner, but I have to include how I love that in minutes, I got a response: "Open Inventory (btnlower rt),at bottom of inventory list, under Library, Find an avatar outfit, and drag/drop on yourself."
Pre-dinner Reflections
A real turkey burger is waiting for me in the oven; Pat's watching football and so I'm on my own with the rest of the meal construction, and:
Just a few more thoughts -- for now -- about Second Life vs. Real-life: My avatar is me, and my friend elicited the exact same insecurities in my avatar as existed in real-life when we stopped being friends at 14...so that's the thing: Second Life is real-life. My avatar has my brain behind it, so no matter what outfit or hair-style I assign my avatar, she'll still be me.
The other thought is a prediction: Just as I spend far too much leisure-time in Facebook today, within a year or two, I'll likely switch to Second Life, and I bet many others will, too, particularly if the servers can handle mashups of Facebook capabilities within SL. So if Facebook could buy Second Life and enrich it with all of the fun things I look for in Facebook -- easy ways to connect with people around the world and to hunt for old friends, along with ample self-expression opportunities, e.g., fascinating and/or funny groups to join and create (and it already has groups), it'll be like what movies are to slideshows; both have their charms, but movies, typically, have become far more popular...and in the movie that is Second Life, we get to be among the movie stars ourselves. We *are* the stars.
Almost a year ago, I was at a conference, where a bunch of social networking execs. vomited on Virtual Worlds, saying, they were all for online gaming, but they felt that today's Virtual Worlds were like "B movies." I think their scorn will continue at their peril.
Second Life, and virtual worlds altogether, are far more intense, with my greater personal investment in the experience than any social networking site I've yet discovered...and I am adventurous with social networking exploration. Certainly, I'm not meaning to be an ingrate about all that Facebook offers -- and I might be trying to earn back fidelity points with my own blog by seeming to denigrate Facebook -- but I really do look forward to a mashed-up version of Facebook and Second Life. I'm sure I'm not the first to say it, and my 3D Internet colleague and friend would likely tell us that convergence is already happening. I can't wait till it's apparent to 3D Internet average citizens like me.
...with My Second Life
"Uh, I'm sorry, but I've gotta go. There's a big, menacing guy right behind me in Second Life -- a virtual world -- and I've gotta get away from him."
"Um, OK."
"Do you know what an avatar is?"
"Uh, no."
"Well, I'm supposed to meet my friend in Second Life, a virtual world, right now, but she's also got a New Jersey number and I thought it was her, calling, so I hope you'll understand...."
"Uh, sure, I can tell you're unable to talk right now, so I was just calling about [the artists' support group that meets in Montclair on Monday nights]...."
"Yes, let's talk tomorrow 'cause we might not be meeting tomorrow night due to the holiday [Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday] and I'll know by then."
"OK."
"Thanks. I know I didn't make much sense, but I appreciate your understanding. Bye."
So the picture here proves that I got away from the scary person and did find my friend at one of what she tells me are the many, relaxing, beautiful sims (places) available to visit in the Second Life virtual world. We were starting slowly to try to re-kindle a friendship that had lasted from ages eight-14, and which had ended with hurt feelings. We had found each other through Facebook, met once face-to-face, and then agreed, the next time, we'd meet in Second Life, since she was super-experienced, and I was a newish fan.
Hair Was the Chief Motivation
The mission was for us to fix my hair. Already, I had selected a style from the default female choices; it was mullet-y and wholly unattractive. In fact, a colleague had threatened earlier this year not to present with me about virtual worlds at an industry conference unless I improved my appearance. Perhaps I wrote about it here prior, as it took me aback, coming from someone who, in real-life, wears jeans to work -- she's a 3D Internet expert and they get to wear whatever they want to work, and sometimes seem to have a relatively casual aesthetic sense about how they appear in real-life.
Fortunately, she relented, as I opted, instead, to present about the IBM Metaverse, where I have a super-appealing avatar, if I do say so:
But back in Second Life with my friend, I still looked worse than I do in real-life. We were going to change all that this afternoon...until Second Life crashed.
Old Feelings Triggered by a New Social Medium
"When is a less busy time to go in?" I picked up the phone and called my friend to ask her, "I mean, 30 minutes ago, there were somewhere around 70,000 people online, and now, 67,000."
"In the past month or so, I've seen it be pretty steady at around 70,000 people, so I don't know of a less busy time; usually, I'm in on week-nights between 9 and 11 pm and you can try me then."
I was crestfallen; aside from that time-period, typically being my Pat/TV/dinner/reading time before I pass out for the night, I was feeling anxieties like I had had toward the end of our childhood friendship -- whether irrationally or not did not matter. For example:
"Well, I don't want to interrupt you from whomever you're with at that point, so --"
"I'll let you know if I'm busy."
"OK," I tried to sound brave, and we hung up.
Ugh, this was what happened to us as kids. Ultimately, often, there was a friend even more fun than I that she opted to play with.
I did not want to re-live *that* experience.
Ninety minutes later, I tried coming in again and got lucky, until my friend's camera stopped working and so she left and was going to return, and then meantime, I vaporized my own avatar like so:
I logged out and sent a direct message via Twitter to my 3D Internet expert colleague-friend, asking her to remind me how to restore my avatar, since the same thing had happened some months back, and she had helped me then.
Meanwhile, in real-life, I'm hungry for dinner, but I have to include how I love that in minutes, I got a response: "Open Inventory (btnlower rt),at bottom of inventory list, under Library, Find an avatar outfit, and drag/drop on yourself."
Pre-dinner Reflections
A real turkey burger is waiting for me in the oven; Pat's watching football and so I'm on my own with the rest of the meal construction, and:
Just a few more thoughts -- for now -- about Second Life vs. Real-life: My avatar is me, and my friend elicited the exact same insecurities in my avatar as existed in real-life when we stopped being friends at 14...so that's the thing: Second Life is real-life. My avatar has my brain behind it, so no matter what outfit or hair-style I assign my avatar, she'll still be me.
The other thought is a prediction: Just as I spend far too much leisure-time in Facebook today, within a year or two, I'll likely switch to Second Life, and I bet many others will, too, particularly if the servers can handle mashups of Facebook capabilities within SL. So if Facebook could buy Second Life and enrich it with all of the fun things I look for in Facebook -- easy ways to connect with people around the world and to hunt for old friends, along with ample self-expression opportunities, e.g., fascinating and/or funny groups to join and create (and it already has groups), it'll be like what movies are to slideshows; both have their charms, but movies, typically, have become far more popular...and in the movie that is Second Life, we get to be among the movie stars ourselves. We *are* the stars.
Almost a year ago, I was at a conference, where a bunch of social networking execs. vomited on Virtual Worlds, saying, they were all for online gaming, but they felt that today's Virtual Worlds were like "B movies." I think their scorn will continue at their peril.
Second Life, and virtual worlds altogether, are far more intense, with my greater personal investment in the experience than any social networking site I've yet discovered...and I am adventurous with social networking exploration. Certainly, I'm not meaning to be an ingrate about all that Facebook offers -- and I might be trying to earn back fidelity points with my own blog by seeming to denigrate Facebook -- but I really do look forward to a mashed-up version of Facebook and Second Life. I'm sure I'm not the first to say it, and my 3D Internet colleague and friend would likely tell us that convergence is already happening. I can't wait till it's apparent to 3D Internet average citizens like me.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Missing You
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
An Open Letter to My Blog
Dear Blog,
You remain my first love, but I have to admit that Facebook has stolen my attention lately. You would be right to accuse me of being unfaithful.
My juggling act is getting less entertaining for me and never was amusing to you, I'm sure. You are where profound self-reflection happens, I know, and until recently, I always considered Facebook to be merely a toy to play with.
And still, you are where I learn the most -- learn what I'm feeling and thinking and caring about by writing all over you. Facebook, till recently, has offered me cotton-candy, whereas you've always offered the promise of a feast.
Recently, though, I persuaded my partner Pat to join Facebook finally, and so I'm relating to her in new and playful ways, e.g., becoming part of her World Domination posse...and then it is now even -- just occasionally -- satisfying my profundity craving, for example, having so far met two childhood friends face to face, since we found one another in Facebook.
There was an article headline I saw online somewhere recently, but I did not want to disrespect you by reading it, where the author was talking about how blogs were diminishing in popularity as social networks like Facebook rose in adoption; increasingly, people were using their Facebook profiles as their space to blog effectively...OK, so maybe I read the first several lines of it, but really, I did not read the whole thing.
You should know that I disagreed with the premise, though; Facebook is a circus performance, whereas you feel more like an ultimately soothing bath. You are where the real writing happens. Facebook has tried to suggest to me -- subliminally -- that it is less self-absorbed a pursuit than blogging, but it's wrong and I know it. Anyone can see how self-absorption-enabling Facebook is by looking at my "Info" tab there.
And besides, you're more beautiful than Facebook -- oh, please don't cry. I really do want to keep posting on you...if you'll still have me.
Love,
Your Only Blogger, Sarah
An Open Letter to My Blog
Dear Blog,
You remain my first love, but I have to admit that Facebook has stolen my attention lately. You would be right to accuse me of being unfaithful.
My juggling act is getting less entertaining for me and never was amusing to you, I'm sure. You are where profound self-reflection happens, I know, and until recently, I always considered Facebook to be merely a toy to play with.
And still, you are where I learn the most -- learn what I'm feeling and thinking and caring about by writing all over you. Facebook, till recently, has offered me cotton-candy, whereas you've always offered the promise of a feast.
Recently, though, I persuaded my partner Pat to join Facebook finally, and so I'm relating to her in new and playful ways, e.g., becoming part of her World Domination posse...and then it is now even -- just occasionally -- satisfying my profundity craving, for example, having so far met two childhood friends face to face, since we found one another in Facebook.
There was an article headline I saw online somewhere recently, but I did not want to disrespect you by reading it, where the author was talking about how blogs were diminishing in popularity as social networks like Facebook rose in adoption; increasingly, people were using their Facebook profiles as their space to blog effectively...OK, so maybe I read the first several lines of it, but really, I did not read the whole thing.
You should know that I disagreed with the premise, though; Facebook is a circus performance, whereas you feel more like an ultimately soothing bath. You are where the real writing happens. Facebook has tried to suggest to me -- subliminally -- that it is less self-absorbed a pursuit than blogging, but it's wrong and I know it. Anyone can see how self-absorption-enabling Facebook is by looking at my "Info" tab there.
And besides, you're more beautiful than Facebook -- oh, please don't cry. I really do want to keep posting on you...if you'll still have me.
Love,
Your Only Blogger, Sarah
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Facebook is Crackish
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
...i.e., What I Imagine It Would Be Like to Be Crack-Addicted
Before I was active in Facebook, I had a nice thing going with this blog -- socializing one-way with an average of ~20 mystery-people every time I posted, since most of my blog-entries didn't provoke comments, and since at most, the site-meter told me only from which city they were visiting.
Something about that captured my imagination, and still does, and by contrast, I feel I've become dumbed down a bit by Facebook...as much as I am drawn to it. I have more than 350 Facebook friends, and they've become like Wacky Pack cards to me instead of the 3-D people I know in real-life. This comes from someone who aspires to enact Martin Buber's I-Thou, rather than I-It philosophy with people, and not to objectify them. When they are searchable names in Facebook, or LinkedIn, or any other social network, I must admit that they are objects to collect as much as they are people I care about in real-life.
How I Realized My Facebook Addiction
The Crack thought came to me last weekend, when I checked my Columbia Univ. e-mail in-box and was deeply disappointed to see that I had not even received an automated note from Facebook, e.g., the bogus ones on how "...one of your friends thinks you're a hottie," let alone real e-mail from any of my Facebook friends, or an opportunity to join an appealing cyberspace-based group or cause.
A relative and I talked about it, too, and she agreed that Facebook keeps pulling her back.
This morning, I had intended to wake up and blog about my back-to-back experience of "Quantum of Solace" and "Milk." And I hope I still will, but first, I told myself, I just wanted to spend "a moment" in Facebook, to warm up -- and knew I was fooling myself. The analogy is that it's like spending time, watching TV as a stimulus for writing -- not so stimulating in reality, but rather tranquilizing.
Perhaps I've hit a Facebook "bottom:" When we went to a holiday party at our friends recently, I found myself choosing what I'd wear, so that if I were "tagged" in any photos taken at the party, I would feel sufficiently stylish and not be embarrassed to see them on Facebook the next day. Imagine my anti-climax when no one took any pictures!
What Facebook Has Enabled
I was going to end it there, but then I recalled a recent experience that Facebook enabled, and about which I've gotta blog:
My mom and I are talking earlier this week, as we do nearly daily, and I do not recall why, but she mentions the older sister of a classmate from the Modern Orthodox Jewish day school I attended for eight years, from Grades 1-8. "She has a child and she's not married. Her aunt told me she's a lesbian."
As we're talking, I open Facebook and search on her relatively unusual name: Voila!
My mom and I hang up and I write to the girl, now woman, immediately, about how I was in her brother's class and how my mom told me that her aunt mentioned her lesbianism, and how it's so great to find a kindred spirit from that school finally....
Within record-time, I receive a response. I'm so excited to open the e-mail and it begins by telling me that she has to laugh and is interested in knowing which of her aunts thinks she's a lesbian because though she's not married, the partner she "...still seeks is a man."
OOPS!
And her brother, my classmate, she mentions, has just been visiting, and she'll have to tell him that she has heard from me.
Go Facebook!
So what is the moral of the story? In this case, Facebook did not enable a poignant, pleasant reunion, but rather re-opened a couple of salty wounds potentially -- hers at not yet having found the ideal partner and mine at having endured the Orthodox day school experience as a closeted little lesbian, who to this day, remains the only one I know of from the school.
The other moral is that my need for connection to others is no guarantee of a happy connection. I do think it definitely qualified as an I-Thou exchange ultimately, though.
And finally, I must acknowledge that Facebook did inspire my writing after all. This blog entry is the evidence.
...i.e., What I Imagine It Would Be Like to Be Crack-Addicted
Before I was active in Facebook, I had a nice thing going with this blog -- socializing one-way with an average of ~20 mystery-people every time I posted, since most of my blog-entries didn't provoke comments, and since at most, the site-meter told me only from which city they were visiting.
Something about that captured my imagination, and still does, and by contrast, I feel I've become dumbed down a bit by Facebook...as much as I am drawn to it. I have more than 350 Facebook friends, and they've become like Wacky Pack cards to me instead of the 3-D people I know in real-life. This comes from someone who aspires to enact Martin Buber's I-Thou, rather than I-It philosophy with people, and not to objectify them. When they are searchable names in Facebook, or LinkedIn, or any other social network, I must admit that they are objects to collect as much as they are people I care about in real-life.
How I Realized My Facebook Addiction
The Crack thought came to me last weekend, when I checked my Columbia Univ. e-mail in-box and was deeply disappointed to see that I had not even received an automated note from Facebook, e.g., the bogus ones on how "...one of your friends thinks you're a hottie," let alone real e-mail from any of my Facebook friends, or an opportunity to join an appealing cyberspace-based group or cause.
A relative and I talked about it, too, and she agreed that Facebook keeps pulling her back.
This morning, I had intended to wake up and blog about my back-to-back experience of "Quantum of Solace" and "Milk." And I hope I still will, but first, I told myself, I just wanted to spend "a moment" in Facebook, to warm up -- and knew I was fooling myself. The analogy is that it's like spending time, watching TV as a stimulus for writing -- not so stimulating in reality, but rather tranquilizing.
Perhaps I've hit a Facebook "bottom:" When we went to a holiday party at our friends recently, I found myself choosing what I'd wear, so that if I were "tagged" in any photos taken at the party, I would feel sufficiently stylish and not be embarrassed to see them on Facebook the next day. Imagine my anti-climax when no one took any pictures!
What Facebook Has Enabled
I was going to end it there, but then I recalled a recent experience that Facebook enabled, and about which I've gotta blog:
My mom and I are talking earlier this week, as we do nearly daily, and I do not recall why, but she mentions the older sister of a classmate from the Modern Orthodox Jewish day school I attended for eight years, from Grades 1-8. "She has a child and she's not married. Her aunt told me she's a lesbian."
As we're talking, I open Facebook and search on her relatively unusual name: Voila!
My mom and I hang up and I write to the girl, now woman, immediately, about how I was in her brother's class and how my mom told me that her aunt mentioned her lesbianism, and how it's so great to find a kindred spirit from that school finally....
Within record-time, I receive a response. I'm so excited to open the e-mail and it begins by telling me that she has to laugh and is interested in knowing which of her aunts thinks she's a lesbian because though she's not married, the partner she "...still seeks is a man."
OOPS!
And her brother, my classmate, she mentions, has just been visiting, and she'll have to tell him that she has heard from me.
Go Facebook!
So what is the moral of the story? In this case, Facebook did not enable a poignant, pleasant reunion, but rather re-opened a couple of salty wounds potentially -- hers at not yet having found the ideal partner and mine at having endured the Orthodox day school experience as a closeted little lesbian, who to this day, remains the only one I know of from the school.
The other moral is that my need for connection to others is no guarantee of a happy connection. I do think it definitely qualified as an I-Thou exchange ultimately, though.
And finally, I must acknowledge that Facebook did inspire my writing after all. This blog entry is the evidence.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Facebook's Allure
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
Facebook Is to Blogging What TV Is to Reading/Writing
How can I stay disciplined with my blogging when Facebook lures me away? Blogging used to be my guilty pleasure, but it has become my necessary outlet.
Facebook truly is, and will remain, a guilty pleasure -- the way that watching TV, rather than doing our homework was when our parents were out; we'd listen for their return, for the tires on our gravel-driveway, and then we'd race to our homework positions....Kids whose households have computers have it easier these days; they're already in their homework positions, sitting at their monitors, and so they just need to exit out of Facebook and toggle over to their homework.
Of course, they don't (and neither do I(!)) necessarily ride bikes as often as I did, though, having ready-made, if 2-D, escapes right in front of them/me.
Here, in all of its frivolousness, Facebook has felt like a pop-culture way to be not so far away from home; a way to procrastinate; and a way to learn things about colleagues and friends that I'd never have guessed, e.g., that one of our senior executives and I are "Soul Mates," according to the movie rating app.
And besides, how else can I keep up with my teenaged nephew and niece so pictorially?
Time for dinner, which Facebook can't provide...yet.
Facebook Is to Blogging What TV Is to Reading/Writing
How can I stay disciplined with my blogging when Facebook lures me away? Blogging used to be my guilty pleasure, but it has become my necessary outlet.
Facebook truly is, and will remain, a guilty pleasure -- the way that watching TV, rather than doing our homework was when our parents were out; we'd listen for their return, for the tires on our gravel-driveway, and then we'd race to our homework positions....Kids whose households have computers have it easier these days; they're already in their homework positions, sitting at their monitors, and so they just need to exit out of Facebook and toggle over to their homework.
Of course, they don't (and neither do I(!)) necessarily ride bikes as often as I did, though, having ready-made, if 2-D, escapes right in front of them/me.
Here, in all of its frivolousness, Facebook has felt like a pop-culture way to be not so far away from home; a way to procrastinate; and a way to learn things about colleagues and friends that I'd never have guessed, e.g., that one of our senior executives and I are "Soul Mates," according to the movie rating app.
And besides, how else can I keep up with my teenaged nephew and niece so pictorially?
Time for dinner, which Facebook can't provide...yet.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Being Bindaas
The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.
Webster's Online Definition of "Bindaas"
According to my friend and colleague Chitra, Webster's online specifies:
Main Entry: bindaas
Part of Speech: adj
Definition: admirably bold and independent
Example: talkative and bindaas babe
Etymology: 1993; India
Usage: colloquial
Chitra has a 14-year-old daughter and my niece is 14. I showed Chitra my niece's Facebook page, which features a variety of photos of her, being silly and beautiful at the same time.
Chitra taught me "bindaas" upon looking at the series of photos. On the way home from work I asked Channa, who drives me, "What does bindaas mean to you?"
"Someone who is very free, Ma'am."
Please, God, let my niece always be bindaas.
Webster's Online Definition of "Bindaas"
According to my friend and colleague Chitra, Webster's online specifies:
Main Entry: bindaas
Part of Speech: adj
Definition: admirably bold and independent
Example: talkative and bindaas babe
Etymology: 1993; India
Usage: colloquial
Chitra has a 14-year-old daughter and my niece is 14. I showed Chitra my niece's Facebook page, which features a variety of photos of her, being silly and beautiful at the same time.
Chitra taught me "bindaas" upon looking at the series of photos. On the way home from work I asked Channa, who drives me, "What does bindaas mean to you?"
"Someone who is very free, Ma'am."
Please, God, let my niece always be bindaas.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)