Yesterday I was reading the Seattle P-I website when I noticed an article titled, "Has Facebook killed your urge to attend a school reunion?" (The headline did not capitalize all the letters, so neither do I :). At the end of the piece you could share your thoughts on the matter by voting. Choices include, "No way! I'm organizing a reunion right now on Facebook!" and "Yes, because I've already seen how weird my classmates became!" But among the six choices there was no option to say, "No, because I am not on Facebook."
And that is how I would have voted.
I was on Facebook, relatively briefly: once, in 2007 or 2008, for a few months, and again from July 2009 until May 31 of last year. I decided to leave - and not just to leave but to join others on the official Quit Facebook Day - because I didn't like the time I was wasting; I disagreed with how privacy decisions were handled; and I didn't like the vaguely stalker-ish impulses it could breed. But the biggest reason I left was that I didn't actually feel more connected with anyone other than very nice or funny acquaintances. The act of widely broadcasting my emotions - and reading other people's broadcasts - made me feel distant from actual friends and family. Even when people weren't trying to perform their relationships, the interface often gave them the look of performance. Very little was personal; I felt like a circumstantial audience member, not an intentionally selected recipient of information.
I do miss my friends' baby photos sometimes, but that's about it.
Lately though it feels like there are wider-reaching participatory repercussions to my decision to leave than just being the last to see the new kid's picture. It's not just that not being on Facebook is apparently inconceivable to some, as in the P-I article. For some businesses, organizations, or events, the only way to place an order, contact someone, or make your voice heard now is via Facebook. You can't even vote on a name for the Woodland Park Zoo's new reticulated python without going to Facebook.
I'm all for Facebook as a choice. But if you're operating in the public sphere, it seems short-sighted at best to limit in any way the number of people who can give you their money, time, or opinions.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Casting Couch in My Mind
I am unable to read a short story or novel without imagining the characters as real people. In a newspaper article, I can read about Dr. X from institution Y without pausing, but in a book I would have to decide she was Alfre Woodard before I could continue.
Many times a character is introduced before he or she is fully described; then I have to cast as best as I can, sometimes stopping later on to re-envision. But sometimes I just ignore elements of the author's description if I feel that my choice captures the essence of the character. For instance, in my favorite book from 2010, A Visit from the Goon Squad, I cast Gillian Jacobs (best known as Britta on Community) as one of the central characters, Sasha, even though the character has red hair and the actress doesn't. Can I just dye the actress's hair in my mind? Um, no - not unless I've seen her in a role with red hair.
This process might sound cumbersome - or crazy! - but usually takes less than a minute and isn't confined to famous people; if a friend, co-worker or family member fits the part best, that person gets the role. When I worked at an after school program, those kids populated any stories with children. And now that I don't know as many kids, well, let's just say that the girls from "Nurse Jackie" have had lots of work.
I've found articles and blog posts fiercely debating the casting choices for a beloved book-turned-movie. (See "The Hunger Games" for a recent example). But I'm not finding picks for books with no immediate film plans, which makes me wonder: is this visualization practice common, but we only hear, "I always saw Robert Downey Jr. in the role," when Hollywood gets involved? Or is it relatively rare?
There are teacher guides and scholarly articles commending visualization as a reading comprehension tool. But those count "visualization" as imagining anything in the text, from setting to vocabulary. The need for actual people to populate stories isn't involuntary, so it's not synesthesia. But what is it?
Many times a character is introduced before he or she is fully described; then I have to cast as best as I can, sometimes stopping later on to re-envision. But sometimes I just ignore elements of the author's description if I feel that my choice captures the essence of the character. For instance, in my favorite book from 2010, A Visit from the Goon Squad, I cast Gillian Jacobs (best known as Britta on Community) as one of the central characters, Sasha, even though the character has red hair and the actress doesn't. Can I just dye the actress's hair in my mind? Um, no - not unless I've seen her in a role with red hair.
This process might sound cumbersome - or crazy! - but usually takes less than a minute and isn't confined to famous people; if a friend, co-worker or family member fits the part best, that person gets the role. When I worked at an after school program, those kids populated any stories with children. And now that I don't know as many kids, well, let's just say that the girls from "Nurse Jackie" have had lots of work.
I've found articles and blog posts fiercely debating the casting choices for a beloved book-turned-movie. (See "The Hunger Games" for a recent example). But I'm not finding picks for books with no immediate film plans, which makes me wonder: is this visualization practice common, but we only hear, "I always saw Robert Downey Jr. in the role," when Hollywood gets involved? Or is it relatively rare?
There are teacher guides and scholarly articles commending visualization as a reading comprehension tool. But those count "visualization" as imagining anything in the text, from setting to vocabulary. The need for actual people to populate stories isn't involuntary, so it's not synesthesia. But what is it?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Six Degrees of I Know Someone Famous
I took a creative writing class in college with this guy. I had an adolescent correspondence with a becoming-famous author. And, creme de la creme, something I said (or my boisterous laugh) made this person swivel on his stool and smile at me in a Dean and Deluca.
And that's just me: a friend took a cooking class with a Hughesian actress; my parents inherited a garden plot from the wife of this Munster; and my mother's ex-husband's wife once went on a date with this new retiree.
None of those stories even involved getting on the Internet! Don't get me wrong - it's thrilling when an author or an actor answers my emails. But do we still rank highest the sightings, shared courses and chance interactions with famous people?
And that's just me: a friend took a cooking class with a Hughesian actress; my parents inherited a garden plot from the wife of this Munster; and my mother's ex-husband's wife once went on a date with this new retiree.
None of those stories even involved getting on the Internet! Don't get me wrong - it's thrilling when an author or an actor answers my emails. But do we still rank highest the sightings, shared courses and chance interactions with famous people?
Friday, May 6, 2011
Good Old 1995
My parents have been mailing me boxes of my stuff from high school and college on and off for almost a year now; they moved back to Connecticut in June 2010 and, though they now have a huge basement, still (understandably) would like me to take possession of that which is mine. So. Boxes.
I have unearthed some treasures: articles from Parade magazine on the "cyberspace" fight to save "My So-Called Life" from cancellation; a beloved cassette tape, "TV Hits Vol. II" from the Meadowbrook Pops Orchestra, featuring classic '80s shows (who doesn't want to listen to the theme song from "Murder, She Wrote" on demand?); and my first pair of glasses (huge frames!) But the overwhelming majority of space is filled with letters.
I attended the University of Virginia's Young Writers Workshop in Charlottesville in the summers of 1994 and 1995, and, in those early-email days, it was natural to write to new friends through the trusty U.S. Postal Service. I was 14 and 15 and prolific, and so were my friends from Pittsburgh; St. Petersburg, FL; Brookline, MA; Ridgewood, NJ; and beyond. We may have only spent 3 weeks together in the same space, but some of us wrote to one another for years.
I love those letters now, both for their often-quirky, handmade, collaged envelopes and for the high school obsessions detailed within, but it also makes me sad to read them. A lot hadn't happened yet in 1995, including the deaths of two close friends and three of my grandparents. I'm no longer in as frequent or meaningful of contact with any of those people: college, significant others, jobs and new friends intervened. And in many cases we've just grown apart.
I'm not sure what you call it when you keep lots of things, pages and pages, that you can't bear to look at for very long, but that's what I'm doing. I'm an archivist, and I want to be able to remember Bug and Chris and Emily and Dave and everyone else, as they were.
I have unearthed some treasures: articles from Parade magazine on the "cyberspace" fight to save "My So-Called Life" from cancellation; a beloved cassette tape, "TV Hits Vol. II" from the Meadowbrook Pops Orchestra, featuring classic '80s shows (who doesn't want to listen to the theme song from "Murder, She Wrote" on demand?); and my first pair of glasses (huge frames!) But the overwhelming majority of space is filled with letters.
I attended the University of Virginia's Young Writers Workshop in Charlottesville in the summers of 1994 and 1995, and, in those early-email days, it was natural to write to new friends through the trusty U.S. Postal Service. I was 14 and 15 and prolific, and so were my friends from Pittsburgh; St. Petersburg, FL; Brookline, MA; Ridgewood, NJ; and beyond. We may have only spent 3 weeks together in the same space, but some of us wrote to one another for years.
I love those letters now, both for their often-quirky, handmade, collaged envelopes and for the high school obsessions detailed within, but it also makes me sad to read them. A lot hadn't happened yet in 1995, including the deaths of two close friends and three of my grandparents. I'm no longer in as frequent or meaningful of contact with any of those people: college, significant others, jobs and new friends intervened. And in many cases we've just grown apart.
I'm not sure what you call it when you keep lots of things, pages and pages, that you can't bear to look at for very long, but that's what I'm doing. I'm an archivist, and I want to be able to remember Bug and Chris and Emily and Dave and everyone else, as they were.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Forgetful Children
It happened again last week: I was openly snubbed in public. But this wasn't someone I actively dislike; this was a middle school-aged boy on the Metro who looked straight into my eyes and smiling face and showed no sign of recognition. Thanks, Carl!
Some background: five years ago, I finished a four year run as an activity counselor at a Boys and Girls Club after school program. This equaled three hours each day and eight during winter, spring and summer breaks. Modestly, I estimate that I spent hundreds of hours a year with many of those kids - helping with homework, reading Captain Underpants books, playing tag, and comforting them when they were frustrated, lonely or hurt.
When I left the Club, Carl made a Mad Lib about *me* as a going away present - one of the best gifts I've ever received from a kid. But he was maybe eight then, and now he's basketball player-tall, probably 13, and that was a long time ago. I wasn't disappointed or even surprised last week when he didn't know who I was; I've seen the same blank expression on other buses, in parks, and in stores in the years since I stopped working with those kids. I know a lot of other people have entered and exited their lives since they last saw me. And I know there are exceptions, ones who remember my face and sometimes even my name.
Still I never stop feeling amazed at how all those hours of drawing, snacking, and playing kickball were wiped away for many of them. Old people have Alzheimer's; what do we call this particularly young affliction?
Some background: five years ago, I finished a four year run as an activity counselor at a Boys and Girls Club after school program. This equaled three hours each day and eight during winter, spring and summer breaks. Modestly, I estimate that I spent hundreds of hours a year with many of those kids - helping with homework, reading Captain Underpants books, playing tag, and comforting them when they were frustrated, lonely or hurt.
When I left the Club, Carl made a Mad Lib about *me* as a going away present - one of the best gifts I've ever received from a kid. But he was maybe eight then, and now he's basketball player-tall, probably 13, and that was a long time ago. I wasn't disappointed or even surprised last week when he didn't know who I was; I've seen the same blank expression on other buses, in parks, and in stores in the years since I stopped working with those kids. I know a lot of other people have entered and exited their lives since they last saw me. And I know there are exceptions, ones who remember my face and sometimes even my name.
Still I never stop feeling amazed at how all those hours of drawing, snacking, and playing kickball were wiped away for many of them. Old people have Alzheimer's; what do we call this particularly young affliction?
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Reliable Transportation = Discrimination?
I have two part time jobs currently, but I still keep my eye out for work. Lately I've been encountering more job descriptions that sound good until I get to the Minimum Requirements section: "must have access to reliable transportation"; "must have access to a reliable vehicle"; or the blunt "must have a car."
I ride the Metro and have ever since I moved to Seattle in 2001. Is it reliable? Well, most of the time it actually is. There are delays, breakdowns, inclement weather, belligerent riders and all the other myriad reasons why it might not get you where you hoped to be when you planned to be there. But any form of transportation will include some degree of uncertainty.
Part of my beef is semantic: If these ads said "must have FAST transportation" instead of "reliable," I would not only be more understanding, I might even be amused. I often have to budget an hour for a bus trip across town - a distance that a car will usually be able to traverse in, oh, 15 to 30 minutes.
But my biggest problem is money-related. Like I said in an earlier post, a lot of people, including me, ride Metro because it's less expensive than driving. Through one of my jobs, I pay just $55 every three months for an Orca card. Collectively, these reliable transportation caveats feel like an additional societal kick in the shin during a recession that's already hurting already vulnerable people. Don't have a job? Can't afford a car? Well too bad!
Do some jobs require cars? Yes. For example, for some of the nanny and babysitting jobs posted in The Daily, the University of Washington's paper, this "must have a car" language makes sense - families who want multiple children to be picked up after school and driven multiple places in the span of two hours, for instance.
But a message to the other families: your kids can ride the bus too.
I ride the Metro and have ever since I moved to Seattle in 2001. Is it reliable? Well, most of the time it actually is. There are delays, breakdowns, inclement weather, belligerent riders and all the other myriad reasons why it might not get you where you hoped to be when you planned to be there. But any form of transportation will include some degree of uncertainty.
Part of my beef is semantic: If these ads said "must have FAST transportation" instead of "reliable," I would not only be more understanding, I might even be amused. I often have to budget an hour for a bus trip across town - a distance that a car will usually be able to traverse in, oh, 15 to 30 minutes.
But my biggest problem is money-related. Like I said in an earlier post, a lot of people, including me, ride Metro because it's less expensive than driving. Through one of my jobs, I pay just $55 every three months for an Orca card. Collectively, these reliable transportation caveats feel like an additional societal kick in the shin during a recession that's already hurting already vulnerable people. Don't have a job? Can't afford a car? Well too bad!
Do some jobs require cars? Yes. For example, for some of the nanny and babysitting jobs posted in The Daily, the University of Washington's paper, this "must have a car" language makes sense - families who want multiple children to be picked up after school and driven multiple places in the span of two hours, for instance.
But a message to the other families: your kids can ride the bus too.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
I've Lost that Lovin' Listening
Sometime in the last 2 years I have stopped needing music. I still crave specific songs occasionally, and when I'm borrowing a car and driving around, I do tend to scan the channels. But 98% of the time now when I want sound, I turn on NPR.
Combine this change with my past accumulation of obsolescent technology and a recent move, and you have...the great CD give away! See something you like? Contact me and I will send it to you (or, for Seattleites, bring it by the next time we hang). See something you gave me? Please don't take it personally that your musical offering did not make the cut and the soundtrack to "Follow that Bird" did. See something that I borrowed from you and forgot about? Sorry! Let me know.
In no order and spanning levels of time, space, fame, and quality:
Broken Social Scene, Bee Hives
The Turn-Ons, East
Drexel, Catch em while they're still alive
Rajini, Speak Truth '07
Beth Orton, Trailer Park and Daybreaker
Adam Sandler, What the hell happened to me?
The Gene Harris/Scott Hamilton Quintet, At Last
St. Germain, Tourist
Coldplay, Parachutes
Ridin' High (?)
Jay Jay Johanson, Antenna
Better than Ezra, Best Of
Henry Hanks, untitled?
Japanese HeepHop (?)
Bob Dylan, Greatest Hits Volume II
Mask Phantoms, The Spang Nut God Banner
Louis Armstrong, Louis Armstrong Plays W.C. Handy
Danny Massure, What it Is
The Get Up Kids, Something to Write Home About
The Magnetic Fields, The Charm of the Highway Strip
Ms. Led, Afternoon in Central Park
Carole King, Tapestry
The Smashing Pumpkins, Tarantula
OK Go, Oh No
James Taylor, Greatest Hits
Nate Newcomer, Edgewater Alienation (featuring bonus "Freddie Got Fingered" DVD! Actually if you want this you can have it independently too).
Sarah McLachlan, Mirrorball
Band of Horses, Everything All the Time
M. Ward, Transfiguration of Vincent
MIA, Diplo Piracy Funds Terrorism 1611
Death Cab for Cutie, Transatlanticism and You Can Play These Songs With Chords
Morcheba, Sampler
Goo Goo Dolls, Before It's Too Late
The Beatles, White Album
Eagle-Eye Cherry, Feels so Right
Whit Press Presents: City to City, Seattle Reads New York
Buttersprites, Buttersprites
Reef Encounter, untitled?
Cowboy Junkies, Black Eyed Man
Can You Read this Boston?
Lou-Lou, Bad Puppy
Martin Sexton, Wonder Bar
My So-Called Life soundtrack (I know, I know, but it doesn't actually have the featured Buffalo Tom song...it has a different one)
Brown Bird and Justin Kennedy, untitled?
Cornershop, Handcream for a Generation
Marc Bolan and T. Rex, 20th Century Boy
Femi Kuti, Sampler
Moby, Play
Dateless, Demo
Kevin Barker, Currituck County
Combine this change with my past accumulation of obsolescent technology and a recent move, and you have...the great CD give away! See something you like? Contact me and I will send it to you (or, for Seattleites, bring it by the next time we hang). See something you gave me? Please don't take it personally that your musical offering did not make the cut and the soundtrack to "Follow that Bird" did. See something that I borrowed from you and forgot about? Sorry! Let me know.
In no order and spanning levels of time, space, fame, and quality:
Broken Social Scene, Bee Hives
The Turn-Ons, East
Drexel, Catch em while they're still alive
Rajini, Speak Truth '07
Beth Orton, Trailer Park and Daybreaker
Adam Sandler, What the hell happened to me?
The Gene Harris/Scott Hamilton Quintet, At Last
St. Germain, Tourist
Coldplay, Parachutes
Ridin' High (?)
Jay Jay Johanson, Antenna
Better than Ezra, Best Of
Henry Hanks, untitled?
Japanese HeepHop (?)
Bob Dylan, Greatest Hits Volume II
Mask Phantoms, The Spang Nut God Banner
Louis Armstrong, Louis Armstrong Plays W.C. Handy
Danny Massure, What it Is
The Get Up Kids, Something to Write Home About
The Magnetic Fields, The Charm of the Highway Strip
Ms. Led, Afternoon in Central Park
Carole King, Tapestry
The Smashing Pumpkins, Tarantula
OK Go, Oh No
James Taylor, Greatest Hits
Nate Newcomer, Edgewater Alienation (featuring bonus "Freddie Got Fingered" DVD! Actually if you want this you can have it independently too).
Sarah McLachlan, Mirrorball
Band of Horses, Everything All the Time
M. Ward, Transfiguration of Vincent
MIA, Diplo Piracy Funds Terrorism 1611
Death Cab for Cutie, Transatlanticism and You Can Play These Songs With Chords
Morcheba, Sampler
Goo Goo Dolls, Before It's Too Late
The Beatles, White Album
Eagle-Eye Cherry, Feels so Right
Whit Press Presents: City to City, Seattle Reads New York
Buttersprites, Buttersprites
Reef Encounter, untitled?
Cowboy Junkies, Black Eyed Man
Can You Read this Boston?
Lou-Lou, Bad Puppy
Martin Sexton, Wonder Bar
My So-Called Life soundtrack (I know, I know, but it doesn't actually have the featured Buffalo Tom song...it has a different one)
Brown Bird and Justin Kennedy, untitled?
Cornershop, Handcream for a Generation
Marc Bolan and T. Rex, 20th Century Boy
Femi Kuti, Sampler
Moby, Play
Dateless, Demo
Kevin Barker, Currituck County
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