Author Archives: Dave

Author, blogger, thinker, developer, and all-around digital creative. Applied theatre professional. Mac enthusiast. Coffee fanatic.

The Friend of my Friend is My…?

As you may have heard, I use a lot of social networks. It’s interesting, really, to explore different networks and decide whether or not they fit into your lifestyle, and then how you use them. That last piece is really important. Every network, I think, has a way that its developers originally foresaw it being used. How each of us uses a network, though, can be subject to some interpretation…just like an author and a reader of good fiction.

Take, for example, Facebook. I used to be quite enamored with the book of faces, and it has certainly had a positive impact on my life. Then, I went through a phase in which I really didn’t use it that often, which was right after Karen and I were married. Then came a brief addiction to Mafia Wars, and now I’m recovered and have discovered that Facebook has lost any identity of its own as it has attempted to copy what others have done well. Further, their complete disregard for privacy turns my stomach.

I keep a Facebook account, although I don’t really post to it very often. I have other things that show up there automatically, but I typically use it to simply keep in contact with friends and colleagues with whom I would have otherwise lost touch. All of those functions could, I think, be better served on other networks, but Facebook seems to be the lowest common denominator where everyone has a profile of some sort.

Tonight, I ran a quick errand to the neighborhood grocery store for a couple of essentials that we found conspicuously absent from our refrigerator. Upon leaving the store, I passed a woman that a quick memory search revealed that I know. Sort of. We did some theatre together briefly. We exchanged a quick “hello” in passing, and went about our way. That was the extent of the conversation that I’ve with this woman for about two years.

However, we’re “friends” on Facebook. With a few clicks she could see more details about my life than I care to consider, and I about hers. Odd, isn’t it, how we consider digital friendships? In theory, they are extensions of our “real” friendships, except they’re more generic than that. In truth, I would call this woman an acquaintance. On Facebook, however, I only have the option of “friend.” No option for colleague, no option for family member. Only friend. Even if you’re only sort-of-not-really friends.

That’s what gives me pause. At first blush, it makes me wish that people used more networks, because the spaces for different sorts of connections can be more customized that way. At a deeper level, though, it makes me want to re-consider how we connect in the digital realm.

Photo Attribution: Kr. B.

Whispers of Flexibility

The thought occurred to me today that sometimes I climb up onto this soapbox about how the English language is dying, languishing in neglect at the whim of a popular new SMS-speak, until finally it will expire from malnutrition and few will remember it, and be laughed at for doing so. I climb onto this soapbox with the best of intentions: like kitsch over-taking good art, I cringe when I hear careless slang based upon intentional misuse of the language or text-language spelling intruding into situations that call for formal English (such as ending a sentence with “lol” in a term paper).

In fact, I think ending any sentence in “lol” should be a legally punishable offense. Before I digeress, however…

I briefly grabbed this thought as it flew by me today that one of the reasons I’m so hard on these alterations to our language is because I’m a writer. As a musician relies on notes, a photographer on images and light, a painter on line and form, I rely on words to tell the story that I’m attempting to convey. I believe words should be handled lovingly, manipulated with care. I suspect that there are times in which they manipulate us. I don’t think language…any language…should be mis-handled carelessly, or with crass intention.

What occurs to me, though, is that handling language carefully isn’t confined to the written word. Written communication post-dates language, after all. Language, in all of its beauty, existed before it was recorded in written form. And, of course, oral tradition and the spoken word are rapidly and regularly evolving, proof that language is dynamic and alive, not merely static and existing, just as we are. As such, perhaps I should expect the easy evolution of the written form of our language, and perhaps I should condone this as a natural part of its life. We can’t, after all, stop a child from growing into their own person, even if we strongly dislike the person that they are becoming.

Still, though, there is a part of me that wants to discourage this, to wonder if the growth is occurring without proper supervision. I think that evolution can easily slide into devolution, and that words have power. When we treat them with respect and care, they can heal. When we toss them about casually and without due consideration, they cause anger and lead to war. This potential exists even more in the spoken form, as we tend to not think through what we are saying as carefully before we say it, as we would if we were to write it, instead.

Of course, when I get to that point in my thought, I’m thinking that I’m not being too hard on the way our language is used, after all.

What do you think? Is language suffering for the sake of expediency and due to a lack of respect? Am I being too cranky about this? The comment chain awaits…

Spring

I don’t find it at all odd that a season associated with new birth and restored life is such a tumultuous one. Birth is as stormy a process as it is beautiful. The intense weather of Spring brings vibrant colors to life. The metaphor to humanity shouldn’t be lost on us.

Backup

Last year, Lent became an exercise in abstract practice for me. You may recall that I gave up negativity for Lent. It was a very positive spiritual exercise for me, one that I can say I’m better for doing. Karen said that I needed to consider doing it again this year. I’m not entirely certain what she meant by that.

I lose track of Lent easily. I think this is because I take the liturgical calendar best in small doses. My liturgical observances go something like this through the year: I enthusiastically observe Advent and Christmas. I begin to falter around Epiphany. I mis-place Lent, but am back in the groove about halfway through, in time to focus on Easter. Then the season of Pentecost leads to more randomness in my spiritual practices. Rinse and repeat.

This year, I remembered Lent somewhere into the second week. What these seasons do for me is make me more disciplined in carving out intentional, meditative time from my days in order to be quiet and re-focus. Similar to last year, though, I struggled with what I should give up for Lent. Because, again, the practical and obvious fasts fell flat in my mind. They would all be things that I would be doing for the sake of religious ritual, not spiritual growth. Religious ritual becomes empty really quickly for me.

I have to say, I seriously considered Karen’s advice that I give up negativity again this year. But, as I read and spent time being quiet, I discovered that what I actually need to give up is independence.

American culture thrives on the myth of the self-made man, a myth that I find non-sensical. Everyone needs someone else at some point. Before Karen and I moved into our current apartment, I was walking up the stairs to our old apartment when a downstairs neighbor (whom I didn’t know) stopped me and told me she was moving out, but really needed help getting a piece of furniture out to the stairs. She asked if I could assist her in moving it. I felt a bit awkward just going into this lady’s apartment and helping wrestle out a tall wardrobe, but she needed help, and I saw no one else to give her assistance.

Sometimes, we just need help moving the big stuff.

That’s difficult for me because I don’t like asking for help. Yet, I’ve discovered that, once you have a child, you have to. In the midst of a crazy week this week,  Karen and I have twice had to ask  a friend to watch our daughter for a couple of hours. I have a real issue with imposing on friends, but this was just necessary. Also this week, I had to call a friend to ask a question about a car. I’m a geek, but I don’t do car repairs. Put me under the hood, and watch my ineptitude blossom. I have to call  someone and ask for assistance with anything involving vehicle mechanics. I have to seek help.

I could go on, because there are a huge number of other ways that we all need help from someone on a daily basis, but you get the idea. The issue is that I feel bad about asking others for help. It’s not a huge struggle, but it causes me to not do it often, to deal with things on my own. This leads to me not having a willingness to step in when others are in need of assistance.

Whether you approach this from the perspective of faith or not, the point is that we’re all stronger when we help each other, especially when we do so pro-actively. The process of doing so relieves us of this ludicrous idea that we can “pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps.” At some point, you have to know someone. At some point, you need a favor. At some point, you need to know the person next door.

I heard someone say during an interview on the BBC this week that, if we took the time to know each other, that there wouldn’t be war. Knowing each other necessarily involves engaging each other. I think that takes the form of recognizing that the human condition involves at least occasional dependence. I’m not talking about an overload of enormous and deep friendships with everyone around you. I’m just talking about knowing more about the person living next to you than the name on their mailbox. Because then there might not be war. And we could certainly do with less of that.

I think this will play into the nature of a hero in some way, as well. I’ll keep you posted.

Photo Attribution: ktylerconk