Tweeted Out
Monday, June 22. 2009
I think Twitter is "over."
It seems to have become mainstream and mostly noise now. The people I started out following on Twitter whom I found interesting seem to be tweeting less and less. The overall fun level is way down, too—Darth Vader has only made three tweets in the last six weeks, and Michael Scott hasn't been on Twitter in over a month.
My own little experiment with celebrity impersonation was mostly a flop. It seemed hardly worth the effort to put a lot of time and thought into being amusing for only a couple of followers, and time management eliminated any opportunities for regular updates some time ago (nearly three months). Of course, had I 30K followers like Dunder-Mifflin's dunder-boss or 90K like the Sith Lord, I wouldn't give up so quickly. Life is not a popularity contest, but Twitter is. So...
I'm walking away from Twitter. It's not "uber-cool" anymore, anyway, and I'm finding it's become more a drain on productivity than a useful or interesting diversion. Maybe I'll change my mind in future, but for now anyway..."tweet out."
I think Twitter is "over."
It seems to have become mainstream and mostly noise now. The people I started out following on Twitter whom I found interesting seem to be tweeting less and less. The overall fun level is way down, too—Darth Vader has only made three tweets in the last six weeks, and Michael Scott hasn't been on Twitter in over a month.
My own little experiment with celebrity impersonation was mostly a flop. It seemed hardly worth the effort to put a lot of time and thought into being amusing for only a couple of followers, and time management eliminated any opportunities for regular updates some time ago (nearly three months). Of course, had I 30K followers like Dunder-Mifflin's dunder-boss or 90K like the Sith Lord, I wouldn't give up so quickly. Life is not a popularity contest, but Twitter is. So...
I'm walking away from Twitter. It's not "uber-cool" anymore, anyway, and I'm finding it's become more a drain on productivity than a useful or interesting diversion. Maybe I'll change my mind in future, but for now anyway..."tweet out."
It seems to have become mainstream and mostly noise now. The people I started out following on Twitter whom I found interesting seem to be tweeting less and less. The overall fun level is way down, too—Darth Vader has only made three tweets in the last six weeks, and Michael Scott hasn't been on Twitter in over a month.
My own little experiment with celebrity impersonation was mostly a flop. It seemed hardly worth the effort to put a lot of time and thought into being amusing for only a couple of followers, and time management eliminated any opportunities for regular updates some time ago (nearly three months). Of course, had I 30K followers like Dunder-Mifflin's dunder-boss or 90K like the Sith Lord, I wouldn't give up so quickly. Life is not a popularity contest, but Twitter is. So...
I'm walking away from Twitter. It's not "uber-cool" anymore, anyway, and I'm finding it's become more a drain on productivity than a useful or interesting diversion. Maybe I'll change my mind in future, but for now anyway..."tweet out."
Will Facebook Bring About Armageddon?
Monday, March 16. 2009
I commented on a post on a buddy's blog recently that I'll never sign up for Facebook because it could lead to the end of civilization. I base this position on an exchange that appears in Bring Me to Life.
Evan said, "How do you people manage without the Internet?"
"The what?" Kirin asked distractedly.
"The Internet. Huge network of all the computers in the world. Sum of all human knowledge. Well, all knowledge on Earth, anyway."
"Oh," Kirin said. "You mean the social network."
"Well, that's part of it, yeah," Evan allowed. "But it's not the most important part."
"Whether you consider it important or not," Kirin said, "it's the most critical component of the sort of super-network you're describing."
"Okay, whatever. How do you access it?"
"You don't," Kirin said. "We don't have such a construct. Our civilization has successfully dodged that particular catastrophic bullet."
"I don't understand."
"I believe," Kirin went on, "it's what caused the disappearance of the Slow Ones. Though it can't be proven, of course."
"Social networking?"
Kirin shrugged. Evan was tired of lines of questioning that led him down paths he couldn't get back out of, so he elected to change the subject.
That's a bit tongue-in-cheek, of course. I like to insert little "edge of the idea" scenes like the above into my SF novels, because I think they make the setting richer, keep the reader's interest, and might sometimes succeed in getting people to think. The books I've most loved reading have been the ones I find myself turning over in my mind the next day.
But seriously, all the time people are spending now "connecting" with other people has to take time away from some other activity. Are people sleeping less? Is the Gross Domestic Product dropping? Are people having fewer babies? Something has to give; as I've lamented in the past, time can't be created, it can only be rearranged. So perhaps it's not too farfetched to imagine that a society that becomes addicted to social networking is on the path to oblivion...
I commented on a post on a buddy's blog recently that I'll never sign up for Facebook because it could lead to the end of civilization. I base this position on an exchange that appears in Bring Me to Life.
That's a bit tongue-in-cheek, of course. I like to insert little "edge of the idea" scenes like the above into my SF novels, because I think they make the setting richer, keep the reader's interest, and might sometimes succeed in getting people to think. The books I've most loved reading have been the ones I find myself turning over in my mind the next day.
But seriously, all the time people are spending now "connecting" with other people has to take time away from some other activity. Are people sleeping less? Is the Gross Domestic Product dropping? Are people having fewer babies? Something has to give; as I've lamented in the past, time can't be created, it can only be rearranged. So perhaps it's not too farfetched to imagine that a society that becomes addicted to social networking is on the path to oblivion...
Evan said, "How do you people manage without the Internet?" "The what?" Kirin asked distractedly. "The Internet. Huge network of all the computers in the world. Sum of all human knowledge. Well, all knowledge on Earth, anyway." "Oh," Kirin said. "You mean the social network." "Well, that's part of it, yeah," Evan allowed. "But it's not the most important part." "Whether you consider it important or not," Kirin said, "it's the most critical component of the sort of super-network you're describing." "Okay, whatever. How do you access it?" "You don't," Kirin said. "We don't have such a construct. Our civilization has successfully dodged that particular catastrophic bullet." "I don't understand." "I believe," Kirin went on, "it's what caused the disappearance of the Slow Ones. Though it can't be proven, of course." "Social networking?" Kirin shrugged. Evan was tired of lines of questioning that led him down paths he couldn't get back out of, so he elected to change the subject. |
That's a bit tongue-in-cheek, of course. I like to insert little "edge of the idea" scenes like the above into my SF novels, because I think they make the setting richer, keep the reader's interest, and might sometimes succeed in getting people to think. The books I've most loved reading have been the ones I find myself turning over in my mind the next day.
But seriously, all the time people are spending now "connecting" with other people has to take time away from some other activity. Are people sleeping less? Is the Gross Domestic Product dropping? Are people having fewer babies? Something has to give; as I've lamented in the past, time can't be created, it can only be rearranged. So perhaps it's not too farfetched to imagine that a society that becomes addicted to social networking is on the path to oblivion...
Too Many Bags Out There
Sunday, March 15. 2009
I suppose I'm not giving anything away by stating that a pivotal character in the novel I'm writing is a bagpiper, since the "soundtrack" includes at least one air on the Highland pipes. I've long been enchanted by the unique sound of this instrument, and its ability to convey such a wide variety of emotions with a relatively limited musical palate (a lack of dynamic range, few actual notes, and a forced legato sound). Two of my all-time favorite musical experiences have been listening to Off Kilter at the Canada pavilion at Epcot, and standing eyes closed in the midst of a band of 16 pipers at a local Burns night. Couple that with my appreciation for fine Scotch and my ability to "stomach" haggis, and it seems I should have been a Scotsman.
For the record, Scotch whisky figures in Bring Me to Life in a minor role, but there is currently no appearance by a haggis.
Anyway, given my admiration for the bagpipes, it struck me recently that it would be fun to try learning to play them. I knew real pipes are quite expensive ($1000+ for a decent set), but one must spend some time (perhaps up to a year) learning on a relatively cheap practice chanter before ever picking up the real weapon. Off to eBay, then. And into a mire of confusion.
Following link after link after link from sellers, buyers, "disinterested" third parties, "unaffiliated" websites, fora, wikis...has that year of initial instruction passed yet? There is too much information available on the web regarding this topic, and as someone seeking expert advice on how to spend my hard-earned money, I'm overwhelmed.
I've complained about this phenomenon before—the Internet contains too much noise in relation to the actual signal (useful information) that's out there. And how can I determine what is actually worthwhile to read? Well, generally only by spending time reading it. Even then, how can I know whether what I've read is accurate? A decade ago, none of this information would have been out there, and I would have had to go buy a book to get some insights, or find an expert to talk to. Those would take money or more effort than click-click-clicking with the mouse, though, so here I sit, paralyzed by information glut.
The Internet needs an information referee. A co-worker and I have some ideas about how that could work, but we'd need to be Google to implement those ideas. Well, for now, it seems I should resist the temptation to try to learn about a new topic in any depth from my anonymous friends on the Internet, and go about research in the classical sense.
And at root, that's the solution: knowing that the Internet, though it may be the quickest solution, is often not the best solution. My generation has the ability to arrive at that conclusion. But will the next or the next?
I suppose I'm not giving anything away by stating that a pivotal character in the novel I'm writing is a bagpiper, since the "soundtrack" includes at least one air on the Highland pipes. I've long been enchanted by the unique sound of this instrument, and its ability to convey such a wide variety of emotions with a relatively limited musical palate (a lack of dynamic range, few actual notes, and a forced legato sound). Two of my all-time favorite musical experiences have been listening to Off Kilter at the Canada pavilion at Epcot, and standing eyes closed in the midst of a band of 16 pipers at a local Burns night. Couple that with my appreciation for fine Scotch and my ability to "stomach" haggis, and it seems I should have been a Scotsman.
For the record, Scotch whisky figures in Bring Me to Life in a minor role, but there is currently no appearance by a haggis.
Anyway, given my admiration for the bagpipes, it struck me recently that it would be fun to try learning to play them. I knew real pipes are quite expensive ($1000+ for a decent set), but one must spend some time (perhaps up to a year) learning on a relatively cheap practice chanter before ever picking up the real weapon. Off to eBay, then. And into a mire of confusion.
Following link after link after link from sellers, buyers, "disinterested" third parties, "unaffiliated" websites, fora, wikis...has that year of initial instruction passed yet? There is too much information available on the web regarding this topic, and as someone seeking expert advice on how to spend my hard-earned money, I'm overwhelmed.
I've complained about this phenomenon before—the Internet contains too much noise in relation to the actual signal (useful information) that's out there. And how can I determine what is actually worthwhile to read? Well, generally only by spending time reading it. Even then, how can I know whether what I've read is accurate? A decade ago, none of this information would have been out there, and I would have had to go buy a book to get some insights, or find an expert to talk to. Those would take money or more effort than click-click-clicking with the mouse, though, so here I sit, paralyzed by information glut.
The Internet needs an information referee. A co-worker and I have some ideas about how that could work, but we'd need to be Google to implement those ideas. Well, for now, it seems I should resist the temptation to try to learn about a new topic in any depth from my anonymous friends on the Internet, and go about research in the classical sense.
And at root, that's the solution: knowing that the Internet, though it may be the quickest solution, is often not the best solution. My generation has the ability to arrive at that conclusion. But will the next or the next?
For the record, Scotch whisky figures in Bring Me to Life in a minor role, but there is currently no appearance by a haggis.
Anyway, given my admiration for the bagpipes, it struck me recently that it would be fun to try learning to play them. I knew real pipes are quite expensive ($1000+ for a decent set), but one must spend some time (perhaps up to a year) learning on a relatively cheap practice chanter before ever picking up the real weapon. Off to eBay, then. And into a mire of confusion.
Following link after link after link from sellers, buyers, "disinterested" third parties, "unaffiliated" websites, fora, wikis...has that year of initial instruction passed yet? There is too much information available on the web regarding this topic, and as someone seeking expert advice on how to spend my hard-earned money, I'm overwhelmed.
I've complained about this phenomenon before—the Internet contains too much noise in relation to the actual signal (useful information) that's out there. And how can I determine what is actually worthwhile to read? Well, generally only by spending time reading it. Even then, how can I know whether what I've read is accurate? A decade ago, none of this information would have been out there, and I would have had to go buy a book to get some insights, or find an expert to talk to. Those would take money or more effort than click-click-clicking with the mouse, though, so here I sit, paralyzed by information glut.
The Internet needs an information referee. A co-worker and I have some ideas about how that could work, but we'd need to be Google to implement those ideas. Well, for now, it seems I should resist the temptation to try to learn about a new topic in any depth from my anonymous friends on the Internet, and go about research in the classical sense.
And at root, that's the solution: knowing that the Internet, though it may be the quickest solution, is often not the best solution. My generation has the ability to arrive at that conclusion. But will the next or the next?
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