Hiking It Off
The earth under foot
Passing
Thoughts fade into
Absence
Embraces singularity
Feels
Effortless striding
Forth
Coming homeward
Bound
Less of me resting
Heavy
Burdens dripping
Soaking
Into the soil beneath
Me
I've said it before, but here it is again: Enjoy http://www.bobthesquirrel.com Go ahead and spend a moment with Bob and Frank. I'll have something more 'spiritual' for you here tomorrow.
I'm going to take a walk out onto some thin ice, and then jump up and down on it.
Social Media has become a loud and hot topic and for good cause. In the last few years tools like Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn have skyrocketed in popularity. Facebook tops 500 Million users, while the youthful Twitter has grown to over 18 million users and LinkedIn, in a very business oriented market niche, has grown to more than 80 million active profiles. The reasons for this growth and the subsequent intense chatter are varied and full of theory and opinion. I'll add mine to the mix.
Social Media (specifically the venues mentioned above) has empowered the internet user to connect and communicate with communities of people online. They provide ongoing and interactive forums with intricate and vibrant interfaces. Now - let that statement settle a moment. Community connections. Interactivity. Intricate interfaces. I'm too lazy (or stubborn) to break down the various forms of Social Media to apply these elements, but it should be apparent that each of them have these elements: Community connections, Interactivity and Intricate Interfaces (although I will say a word about interfaces - meaning, the many ways you can now connect and communicate across not only a single Social network, but between those networks. These are represented mostly by 3rd party UI tools).
Social Media has presented us with a unique twist to the internet's ability to display information and made it more accessible for the user to participate in what is being said to/from any given target audience. It is a grass roots movement empowered (i'mpowered?) by technology. This isn't blogging.
Blogging isn't, by nature uniquely interactive, community focused or intricately interfaced - at least not like the aforementioned (I love using that word, just because it is so fun to type aforementioned...) Social platforms. Blogs are written mostly by individuals or small teams of people. Typically, blogs have something to say to the reader. The voice of the blog is primarily singularly directed from the writer to the reader and blogs don't really provide a very interactive format for conversation. What of the comments you say?
Comments on blogs are usually just that - comments. The typical format for comments doesn't lend itself to conversations very well. Readers leave their thoughts and opinions and there may or may not be any response by the author of the post, and almost certainly there is no conversation between commenter's. The technology to connect comments, responses and dialogue via blog comments is cumbersome and not widely implemented.
Blogs build readership, not communities. For the aforementioned (I do love that word) reasons, blogs aren't particularly useful at creating communities. The relationships created are more between the reader and the blog than they are among the readers. Those who follow a blog don't by design connect with each other.
When it comes to an intricate interface that can connect the community (that doesn't exist) with others inside and outside of the readership of the blog, blogs are sorely lacking. In fact, blogs have struggled to find a singular technology to connect them with each other and readers for years. There are many and diverse blogroll tools - but no universally accepted format. There are blog directories and listings in abundance, yet even the great Technorati lacks for universal recognition as the dominant blog directory. Yet, it is this lack of Social interface that has, I believe, thrown blogging into the Social Media mix.
Bloggers have embraced Social Media to promote their blogs and the interface technologies provide by Social Media have made that a workable mix. Technorati's State of The Blogosphere 2010 identifies this reality. Here are some of those stats.
78% of bloggers surveyed are using Twitter with the most common purpose being to promote blog content (72%) and share links to interesting content (62%)
87% of bloggers surveyed use Facebook, and the majority (66%) do not have a page for their blog separate from their personal account
The most effective social media sites to promote blog content are Facebook (28%) and Twitter (26%) followed by LinkedIn (4%) StumbleUpon (3%) Flickr (2%) and YouTube (2%)
All of this to say, Blogging isn't Social Media - bloggers have however embraced Social Media in much the same way that companies have utilized it to promote their web presence.
Nuff said - end of thin ice dance.
Nuff said - end of thin ice dance.
Yes, it was all about the hair, the burns and the shirt! Remember those synthetic patterned shirts? I was sooooooooooooooooooooooooo cool.
After dinner, sitting in the expansive dinning room, I began to wish for some time alone. Angela had not left my side for days now. When we ate, we dined as royalty. My body had returned to a more normal appearance. I appeared now as if I had simply been successful in re-sculpting my body and adding a few pounds of muscle, and had grown accustomed to managing my new senses. With little effort I could balance my heightened sensitivities to dismiss any over stimulation. I could move through the tasks of each day with a high degree of normalcy. Yet, increasingly I was feeling restless. I began to think of my small country house, my familiar surroundings – the view from my den window, the smell of the smoldering fire in the morning, the beep of my answering machine – and my thoughts returned to Kelly.
I stood from my seat and walked over behind Angela. Silently I shared by thoughts, as had now become our way of talking,
I’m thinking of going home to look over my things.
Perhaps it would be a good idea, Angela replied. You should begin to let go of that life. Your new life is just beginning, but you will soon discover, as it was with me, that the life of normal people is too limited for you. It is good that we have each other.
Angela stood and turned to embrace me. I felt the wonderful warmth of her arms slide under mine and wrap around my waist. She leaned on me and sighed as she closed her eyes and rested her face on my chest. The gentle layers of her short hair felt soft against my chin. It was then that I sensed it. It was nothing more substantial than a passing aroma, as faint as the brush of a gentle breeze as the weather begins to change. It faded as soon as it came, but I knew then that it was there. Within her was something hidden, something much more. Up until this point I had simply told myself we had found in each other the passion and sensuality that we both needed. My mind had not been able to grasp the now haunting truth. The pieces fell in to place, locking together in an incomplete, but discernable image, an incomplete jig-saw. Somehow I knew, this had all been a carefully orchestrated plan. I had been hunted and captured. I had also been a willing captive. Yet, the truth beyond this had brushed my awareness. There was something else, a shadow of sorts that Angela held within her toward me. I knew that I needed to get away.
I will leave tomorrow. I need to arrange some of my affairs and tie up some loose ends; I shared my thoughts with her.
Her response was brief, I’ll go with you.
No. I think I would like to go alone. It won’t take me long, and there is no point in dragging you away. I know you and Charles have more work to do. No doubt I have kept you to myself too long.
I hugged her firmly and smiled. I gently bent my mind to hers. It had become our way, this bending, the invitation to the other to open and allow passage through feelings and thoughts into the deepest of connections. Every time the sensations where beyond words. The closest thing I had previously known to this is that illusive moment of creative bliss when the work of the artist finds form for creative passion - when the words inscribed upon the page, or the sculptured stone so precisely reflect the purest of human truth that the artist transcends the normal moment and touches the realm of the spirit. So, I paused and waited her response.
She giggled and kissed me. “Go ahead and go,” she spoke out load. “It is necessary for you. I can see that know. Go, Evan Palmer, go. I will be here when you return.”
She spoke this with complete certainty. She turned and walked out of the room, and as she left, so did all of her thoughts, feelings, and being. Nothing was open to me. She had closed me out, completely.
I felt strange instantly. I felt alone, truly alone. (to be continued)
About a year ago, my wife innocently invited me to do some 'shopping' with her. Being the supportive and mischievous sort, I agreed. Among a number of places we went was Idlewild House. It is an amazing place and if you are ever in the area, do drop by.
As we were getting ready to leave I spotted a small 'stuffed' bird on a shelf and something about it attracted me - powerfully. It was for sale and priced for only a few dollars, so I picked it up and walked with my wife to check out.
Wife - "What are you doing with that?"
Me- "Buying it?"
Wife - "I figured that, but why?"
Me - "It called my name."
Wife - "Oh. I guess you had better get it then"
Me - "That's what I thought. It's cute. I like it."
Wife - "You taking it to your office."
Me - "Maybe. I was thinking about where to put it."
Wife - "I think the office is a good place."
We drove home and the conversation about the bird continued and it was very clear to me that my wife did not want the bird at our home. I decided that our home was exactly where it needed to be.
So, once I got home I found a convenient place on a shelf in the kitchen for it. A day or so later, I noticed it was gone - but just moved to another place in the house. I moved it to yet another place - without saying a word - and thus began a game for us. For nearly a year now the bird has been moved from place to place, alternately by us. We don't say much about it. Sometimes it takes a day for it to be found - sometimes weeks. That little 'stuffed' bird has become an endearing and playful part of our relationship.
It is a good thing I bought it.
Here is where it resides today.
Look closer - yep, there it is.
In October 1975, I had one of my best Halloween experiences ever. Thanks to the connections of my High School drama teacher (meaning her 'boy friend'), I spent a few hours in the hands of the local mortician (yes. kinda creepy) receiving 'make up' and 'augmentation' in order to be a corpse for the school haunted house.
I scared quite a few school kids that year, and enjoyed every minute of it. The event was such a success that my ghoulish photo appeared in the yearbook that year (see above), but it just doens't seem to do justice to the memory...yes, that IS a real coffin I'm in.
Happy Halloween!
Today I called my mom. I sat in my car outside 'the' Wendy's (down south we always refer to places and things as 'the' - the Walmarts, the Facebook, etc.) eating a quick dinner before making an evening event. We spoke about several urgent family matters including her brother's recent cancer reappearance. We shared openly about our feelings and our efforts to remain positive, hopeful - there is good reason for hope, after all.
We then turned our conversation to the customary checklist of each member of my immediate family - their health, jobs, recent sightings, etc. Mom always wants to know the report on the kids and spouse. After hearing my report, she concluded that all was well for this household. It means a great deal to her.
As we brought our conversation to a close, I told her I enjoyed talking with her and that I loved her. She said to me, "I love you, son." I hung up the phone and sat quietly for a moment in the car. One truth was clear to me. A man never gets too old to hear his mother tell him "I love you."