Oh so connected.but.


I have a love hate relationship with the connectedy-ness of the community software systems.  I’ve tribed, I’ve live journaled, I’ve completely given up on myspace because for some reason it always breaks my browsers and I lack the requisite patience, I was the yelp-iest for a time, I was all up in those Craigslist forums talking about film or food, and now I’m all kinds of facebooked. I have yet to twitter.

As an aside, I see Twitter as owning excellent potential for quick doses from perverse & straight forward sex work alike.  “And now I am inserting”   “Just made so and so do such and such. Mua ha ha”.  I can see one more commercial revenue stream in the, at times, hard scrabble life of the sex worker trying to make ends meet.  There would be no sound or image to be seen by prying eyes, just an added textual titillation to the day.  I’ve already fantasied out the long term implications of being so connected into machines and how we all relate to our sexuality and how very much it has become attached to the untouchable & wired.  But that, dear readers, is another topic perhaps to be spewed in the first person plural oft adopted by Dolls in the Walls.

Where was I?  Ah, right…

Having taken the approach that blogging is diarizing  in general, or displaying personal interest and preference without a need for response,  it’s odd that I would find any trouble in the quick fix version found in something like a facebook.  While potentially being read by others, these blogs (or online journals) can just be a random body expressing our truths to whomever might stop and read, confessing into the ether, or knowledge that the people you care about are at least aware of how you’re thinking/feeling/acting out.  That ultimately self expression online is about the writer more than the readers (“in most cases” caveat goes here), why do I find elements of “community portals” a bit off putting?  I believe I am a bit troubled when  expressing ourselves through pre-fabricated applets and click-to-adds becomes a bit like collecting rather than connecting.

jaw-musclesThere is a fair bit of ‘ the easy communicating in a busy world’ that I have warmed to around Facebook.  “It’s snowing here” is a great example – no need to call or send an email to that affect, it’s really a mini statement that does not need a full blog post or additional imagery.  It isn’t so one-sided because it becomes open to comments from your friends.  Indeed,  where some of my friends live there has been a snowpacalypse lately and more snow is in fact something I’d like to know about their status.

However, I also fall prey to mulling the clever little sentence I could post about myself in the “status field ” wondering in the moment how to utilize the language to send cryptic messages to a small handful of in the know friends, real no holds barred status information, or just broad smirks to all.  I hold myself back from this.  Owing to that other part of self – the one that feels a bit keenly or has been called a prig or simply “too intense”, I am tempted to post status (statii?) of  blatant honesty, confessions of weakness, or personal vivisection that rails against the very cheery nature of the Facebook.  I’ve even thought about the clever persona that could capitalize on that very dreary purpose.  If one Woe Smee requests to befriend you, jump on the band wagon!

So yeah. I continue to interface.  To connect.

latmandibleI muse about the ways in which one could use facebook for evil or at the very least to mini-torture the people one loves.  Seeing their new persona mashed by that picture you have  from 1989 is nothing short of hilarity to my mind.  There is a definite shamespiral of revenge photo tagging that I have yet to see truly unfold, but I wait for it, with  hangover/band van tour/braces/nerdy adventure gaming/ pics at the ready!   I see the fascinating thing about “Hey I knew that person when I was 16, what are they doing now?” and how FB has moved from being about the young getting together into more of we older types reminiscing and trying to feel a sense of connection to a place we hardly remember.  That or saying to one another “I turned out like this, pretty cool huh?”  or perhaps “I had this baby, you can’t deny that I’ve affected the world in some way”.

Love hate.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Meantime, DiTW is just a series of things I see (and speak or photograph), make, feel, do, think.  I thought I best do a little pixelsteading out here on the inter-range for now.  The mind it is aswim as ever in a sea of open ended options, creative impulses, and possible actions taken.