Argh! Blogger *promised* me I could retain my old design after I upgraded my template! But when I upgraded and pasted my old template in, it had errors that prevent republishing.
This is what I get for trying to stay current. *growl*
My original design is much better than this thing. Fortunately, I backed up the HTML code for my old layout, so I'll just have to tinker it all back together.
Not that I'm looking to keep this blog up-to-date or anything, but it's a little piece of my history I like to keep active and be nostalgic now and again.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Epic Fail on the Posterity Note
Obama's in, Bush is out, nothing went wrong.
Very glad that I was incorrect in posterity.
Hey! If you're visiting, did you know that I started a StoryBlog called Shortening the Road? I've committed to posting one stream story a month. Have a listen!
Very glad that I was incorrect in posterity.
Hey! If you're visiting, did you know that I started a StoryBlog called Shortening the Road? I've committed to posting one stream story a month. Have a listen!
Friday, May 23, 2008
Posterity Note -- May 23rd 2008
Whew. Haven't posted here in awhile. Hope you've all been keeping well.
I had this thought about a year ago and I remember remarking to friends with the prelude "Mark my words ..." So I thought I'd take my own good advice and literally mark my words.
As we draw ever-near to the end of George W. Bush's reign of terror in the "free" world, I had this horrible scenario pop into my head. Right before the election, something horrible is going to happen. Another attack will occur on North American soil (not ruling out Canada here), executed by a "terrorist" group that managed to sneak one under Homeland Security's collective noses.
When that happens, Bush will take control of the United States government and "postpone" the election, saying that in light of what has just happened, holding elections now would not be in the country's best interest.
What's terrifying is that the President does indeed hold that power. It's in the rulebooks that the president can take control of the governments in a time of crisis.
How long will the President be able to maintain that power? That's really up to us, isn't it?
I really hope I'm wrong.
I had this thought about a year ago and I remember remarking to friends with the prelude "Mark my words ..." So I thought I'd take my own good advice and literally mark my words.
As we draw ever-near to the end of George W. Bush's reign of terror in the "free" world, I had this horrible scenario pop into my head. Right before the election, something horrible is going to happen. Another attack will occur on North American soil (not ruling out Canada here), executed by a "terrorist" group that managed to sneak one under Homeland Security's collective noses.
When that happens, Bush will take control of the United States government and "postpone" the election, saying that in light of what has just happened, holding elections now would not be in the country's best interest.
What's terrifying is that the President does indeed hold that power. It's in the rulebooks that the president can take control of the governments in a time of crisis.
How long will the President be able to maintain that power? That's really up to us, isn't it?
I really hope I'm wrong.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
On Hiatus
As you've probably noticed, I haven't been updating much. Life's been pretty complicated lately, what with me dislocating my knees in a snowmobiling accident and then Ms. Carotte breaking her leg. I hoping that it's just February that's turning out to be sucky, rather than 2006 being a bad year.
So for the time being, I'm going on Hiatus for a bit. I'll probably come back to this blog eventually, but I need to sort some stuff out first.
If you're dying to read my writings (and really, who can blame you), I've been updating my LiveJournal more often.
Thanks for checking in.
As you've probably noticed, I haven't been updating much. Life's been pretty complicated lately, what with me dislocating my knees in a snowmobiling accident and then Ms. Carotte breaking her leg. I hoping that it's just February that's turning out to be sucky, rather than 2006 being a bad year.
So for the time being, I'm going on Hiatus for a bit. I'll probably come back to this blog eventually, but I need to sort some stuff out first.
If you're dying to read my writings (and really, who can blame you), I've been updating my LiveJournal more often.
Thanks for checking in.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Internet Blackout
My Bell modem went belly-up on Friday, so I'll be without Internet access for a few days until I get a new modem sometime next week.
If you need to get a hold of me, it's best to phone.
I shudder to think of the amount of email that's going to be dumped in my lap after four days of non-access. Gak.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Gazettified
The article I mentionned appeared in the Montreal Gazette on Saturday (page A-3). It's a great article and the photo is classic. I'll be laminated the article... :)
The Gazette coverage really brought in a gaggle of folks to the fair and the ritual. The counts vary, but it seems to fall somewhere between 75-90 people. And I was expecting 40-60! Yikes!
The Ritual went off without too many hitches. There were a few things I hadn't counted on and could've planned for better, but I didn't really have time to work on it this week (with the end of the contract looming and all).
Many thanks to all who helped out, especially to Ms. Carotte who made me a gorgeous vest for the ritual.
The article I mentionned appeared in the Montreal Gazette on Saturday (page A-3). It's a great article and the photo is classic. I'll be laminated the article... :)
The Gazette coverage really brought in a gaggle of folks to the fair and the ritual. The counts vary, but it seems to fall somewhere between 75-90 people. And I was expecting 40-60! Yikes!
The Ritual went off without too many hitches. There were a few things I hadn't counted on and could've planned for better, but I didn't really have time to work on it this week (with the end of the contract looming and all).
Many thanks to all who helped out, especially to Ms. Carotte who made me a gorgeous vest for the ritual.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Montreal Sabbats presents
Battle Royale for Yule
Public Yule Ritual 2005
led by Hobbes
Concordia University Pagan Society (CUPS)
7pm (after the CUPS Yule Fair (10am - 6pm)
The harvest has been taken in and, as the snow piles and the winds blow, we can't deny that Winter is upon us once again! Join us as we celebrate Yuletide with our special guests: the Holly King and the Oak King.
After the CUPS Yule Fair has wrapped up, you can bear witness as the Solstice brothers do battle to see who will reign from the Winter Solstice to the Summer Solstice.
Each participant in the ritual need to bring a candle that they can hold in their hands lit (so no wax spillage). Also, participants should NOT bring feast food because having food on the Mezzanine is problematic.
Experience is not necessary and all paths are welcome to attend. Pagan Standard Time does NOT apply (don't be late). The ritual will start promptly at 7pm.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Making the Papers
Last night, I went out to the West Island to join a few other fellow pagans to be interviewed by the Montreal Gazette. With Yule coming up, one of their reporters was curious about what Pagans do during the holidays and asked to interview us about it.
We talked about Pagan philosophy and Pagan practice. We talked about Pagan creeds and guidelines. We talked about rituals and symbology. We talked about community and public reactions. We talked about good and bad experiences about being Pagan in a non-pagan society.
He wrote all of it down and his photographer snapped off a few pictures of us in discussion and some of us in posed shot with an athame and a goblet of wine (symbolizing the Great Rite).
All in all, it was a nice discussion and we were well-pleased with it. The article is supposed to appear in the paper sometime before the CUPS Yule Fair (on December 3rd). But before the reporter left, I asked him what section the article would be in, and he replied "The A section".
The A section. That's the front of the paper. It has all the city news in it. I suddenly worried about what this would mean. I was going to be Pagan in a VERY public way now and I'm worried about what that might mean. Not worried enough that I'm going to ask for a retraction; I volunteered for this interview and I'm sticking to it.
Actually, I'm more worried what this might mean for Ms. Carotte. She's a devout Christian and she attends an Evangelical Church. She's starting to make friends there and getting involved in that community. I do stuff for that Church too since I think it offers positive contribution to our neighborhood (not that any of them know I'm Pagan).
I don't care if these Church people started to treat me differently based on my religious affiliations, but I would hate it if they started to treat Ms. Carotte differently. That would suck.
Last night, I went out to the West Island to join a few other fellow pagans to be interviewed by the Montreal Gazette. With Yule coming up, one of their reporters was curious about what Pagans do during the holidays and asked to interview us about it.
We talked about Pagan philosophy and Pagan practice. We talked about Pagan creeds and guidelines. We talked about rituals and symbology. We talked about community and public reactions. We talked about good and bad experiences about being Pagan in a non-pagan society.
He wrote all of it down and his photographer snapped off a few pictures of us in discussion and some of us in posed shot with an athame and a goblet of wine (symbolizing the Great Rite).
All in all, it was a nice discussion and we were well-pleased with it. The article is supposed to appear in the paper sometime before the CUPS Yule Fair (on December 3rd). But before the reporter left, I asked him what section the article would be in, and he replied "The A section".
The A section. That's the front of the paper. It has all the city news in it. I suddenly worried about what this would mean. I was going to be Pagan in a VERY public way now and I'm worried about what that might mean. Not worried enough that I'm going to ask for a retraction; I volunteered for this interview and I'm sticking to it.
Actually, I'm more worried what this might mean for Ms. Carotte. She's a devout Christian and she attends an Evangelical Church. She's starting to make friends there and getting involved in that community. I do stuff for that Church too since I think it offers positive contribution to our neighborhood (not that any of them know I'm Pagan).
I don't care if these Church people started to treat me differently based on my religious affiliations, but I would hate it if they started to treat Ms. Carotte differently. That would suck.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Take a Moment
If you missed the 11am moment on the 11th, take a minute now to sit or stand silently and meditate on the sacrifices made by those who were left behind and who live on today.
I find reading this poem helps to put me in the proper headspace. Lest we forget...
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders' fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
If you missed the 11am moment on the 11th, take a minute now to sit or stand silently and meditate on the sacrifices made by those who were left behind and who live on today.
I find reading this poem helps to put me in the proper headspace. Lest we forget...
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders' fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Reflections of a Greater Glory
I teach a Paganism 101 class at the Crescent Moon School on Wednesday nights, so last night we were watching an NFB documentary on pagan spirituality, the new feminist movement, and the environmental movement (Full Circle).
With so much on Goddess spirituality in the mainstream media, the concept of Goddess spirituality is certainly well-known. I'm sure that in 1992 (over 13 years ago), this would've been a relatively new concept to hit the mainstream consciousness.
So the film was more than a bit dated for my students, as well as myself. There was also a nasty undercurrent of anti-male sentiment that I found disturbing (that the males were responsible for everything that had gone wrong in the world). That type of male-villification just gets my blood boiling (so don't get me started).
I was discussing this with Ms. Carotte last night and I said:
"The movie attributed everything to the Goddess! The oceans, the moon, the animals, and the earth is the Earth Mother. And what about the God? The God gets regulated to the Sun, sperm, general security, and taking out the garbage. Argh!"
"Think of it this way," she smirked. "The only reason we can see the Moon at all is because it reflects the light of the Sun. What does that say about the Goddess?"
I grinned malevolently. "I'll be sure to use that on some unsuspecting pagan feminist. Maybe I'll go get my tombstone done now and avoid the rush."
There's a reason I love that girl. She always trying to get me killed in some kind of spectacular way.
I teach a Paganism 101 class at the Crescent Moon School on Wednesday nights, so last night we were watching an NFB documentary on pagan spirituality, the new feminist movement, and the environmental movement (Full Circle).
With so much on Goddess spirituality in the mainstream media, the concept of Goddess spirituality is certainly well-known. I'm sure that in 1992 (over 13 years ago), this would've been a relatively new concept to hit the mainstream consciousness.
So the film was more than a bit dated for my students, as well as myself. There was also a nasty undercurrent of anti-male sentiment that I found disturbing (that the males were responsible for everything that had gone wrong in the world). That type of male-villification just gets my blood boiling (so don't get me started).
I was discussing this with Ms. Carotte last night and I said:
"The movie attributed everything to the Goddess! The oceans, the moon, the animals, and the earth is the Earth Mother. And what about the God? The God gets regulated to the Sun, sperm, general security, and taking out the garbage. Argh!"
"Think of it this way," she smirked. "The only reason we can see the Moon at all is because it reflects the light of the Sun. What does that say about the Goddess?"
I grinned malevolently. "I'll be sure to use that on some unsuspecting pagan feminist. Maybe I'll go get my tombstone done now and avoid the rush."
There's a reason I love that girl. She always trying to get me killed in some kind of spectacular way.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Feet are Wet
Remeber back in August when I posted about fighting Cold Feet about my new business idea? Since then, I've been meeting with a few people, discussing the project and generating some interest, but no one has formally given me the Nod.
Until this morning.
I got my first committed client and work on the project will start in January 2006 (although the setup work will probably start this month). When I complete this project, I will formally launch my new company project with some kind of shindig, probably in the Spring.
In the meantime, I celebrate my first victory. I'm very excited and terrified at the same time.
Remeber back in August when I posted about fighting Cold Feet about my new business idea? Since then, I've been meeting with a few people, discussing the project and generating some interest, but no one has formally given me the Nod.
Until this morning.
I got my first committed client and work on the project will start in January 2006 (although the setup work will probably start this month). When I complete this project, I will formally launch my new company project with some kind of shindig, probably in the Spring.
In the meantime, I celebrate my first victory. I'm very excited and terrified at the same time.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Halloween Handout Gets Bitten
As I do every year, I decked the front of the house with all things ghoulish and ghastly, including spooky music and ghostly moanings and groanings. Ms. Carotte and I both got dressed up and we freaked out the little kids as they went Trick or Treating. I really love this time of year.
It took about 2 hours for the kids to clean us out of our goodies and we got some really interesting costumes. There was one kid who had a steady stream of blood pouring down his skull face.
But then came the Teens. I hate it when Teens go trick or treating because they refuse to get into the spirit of the night. Going around with a pillowcase to get free candy doesn't make you a Trick'OTreater: it makes you a Beggar. So we refused to give anything to the teens who just showed up in their regular clothes.
I had a pair of brothers show up (with their Mom looking on) who were not only offensive, they were abusive. I made the mistake of asking the youngest one what he was as I gave him the candy. He replied loud and proud "I'm a faggot!" Stunned, I looked over to his mom who just shrugged and admonished him lightly as she laughed.
"If that's your answer, then I'll take my candy back," I said, reaching for his bag.
"Okay, okay," he laughed, snatching his bag away. "I'm really a vampire. Watch!" and he grabbed my hand and bit me hard! Again, his mum just laughed. I turned to his brother, ready to ask him what he was (he was in his regular clothes), but he just grabbed the candy from my hand and pushed me out of the way with a "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
As they walked away from my porch, I called out "If you're trick or treating, you could at least get into the spirit of it! I spent money on these candies, so I'm not asking that much from you to just wear something interesting. And if you're going to take my candies, you can can the attitude!" I swear, I'm getting more and more like the "old guy shaking his cane at the young folks" every day.
The mother looked so torn. She was shocked and surprised that I would rant at her son, but at the same time, she knew I was right. She just waved half-heartedly and ran off after her children. Better spend a bit more time teaching your kids to pay *some* respect to others, especially when asking for food.
Halloween is one of those rare occasions when you actually get to meet your neighbours. I love doing that, but if you could just keep your bratty, arrogant, "whatever" teens away from me, it'll take the horror out of my holiday experience.
As I do every year, I decked the front of the house with all things ghoulish and ghastly, including spooky music and ghostly moanings and groanings. Ms. Carotte and I both got dressed up and we freaked out the little kids as they went Trick or Treating. I really love this time of year.
It took about 2 hours for the kids to clean us out of our goodies and we got some really interesting costumes. There was one kid who had a steady stream of blood pouring down his skull face.
But then came the Teens. I hate it when Teens go trick or treating because they refuse to get into the spirit of the night. Going around with a pillowcase to get free candy doesn't make you a Trick'OTreater: it makes you a Beggar. So we refused to give anything to the teens who just showed up in their regular clothes.
I had a pair of brothers show up (with their Mom looking on) who were not only offensive, they were abusive. I made the mistake of asking the youngest one what he was as I gave him the candy. He replied loud and proud "I'm a faggot!" Stunned, I looked over to his mom who just shrugged and admonished him lightly as she laughed.
"If that's your answer, then I'll take my candy back," I said, reaching for his bag.
"Okay, okay," he laughed, snatching his bag away. "I'm really a vampire. Watch!" and he grabbed my hand and bit me hard! Again, his mum just laughed. I turned to his brother, ready to ask him what he was (he was in his regular clothes), but he just grabbed the candy from my hand and pushed me out of the way with a "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
As they walked away from my porch, I called out "If you're trick or treating, you could at least get into the spirit of it! I spent money on these candies, so I'm not asking that much from you to just wear something interesting. And if you're going to take my candies, you can can the attitude!" I swear, I'm getting more and more like the "old guy shaking his cane at the young folks" every day.
The mother looked so torn. She was shocked and surprised that I would rant at her son, but at the same time, she knew I was right. She just waved half-heartedly and ran off after her children. Better spend a bit more time teaching your kids to pay *some* respect to others, especially when asking for food.
Halloween is one of those rare occasions when you actually get to meet your neighbours. I love doing that, but if you could just keep your bratty, arrogant, "whatever" teens away from me, it'll take the horror out of my holiday experience.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Professionalism
Sometimes it frustrates me that I'm expected to stay polite, PC, and respectful in the face of people who are everything but these things. Why do they get to be rude, non-professional, and arrogant, and just keep chugging along in their lives?
I was once like that early on in my career. After a couple of weeks of missed review deadlines, with the final deadline hanging over my head, I walked into the client's office, plunked down my guide for review, and curtly informed him that he had a week to get comments back to me. Did I mention that my client was meeting with another potential client of his at the time?
A couple of hours later, my client (the Prez of the company) knocked at my door. He came in, closed the door behind him, sat down in front of me, and said:
"Hobbes, I know you're a young guy, just starting out in your career, so you're not going to know about these things. I like you, you're a talented writer, but you need to learn how to behave with your clients." And then proceeded to lecture me for about an hour.
He was polite, but firm. I could also see he was really pissed off and I knew I had made a serious error in judgement. However, my employers never heard anything about it, so it was just between me and him.
I'll never forget that day and what he taught me, although when faced with young professionals who treat me the way I treated him, I struggle with crossing that line everytime.
Thanks Don.
I was once like that early on in my career. After a couple of weeks of missed review deadlines, with the final deadline hanging over my head, I walked into the client's office, plunked down my guide for review, and curtly informed him that he had a week to get comments back to me. Did I mention that my client was meeting with another potential client of his at the time?
A couple of hours later, my client (the Prez of the company) knocked at my door. He came in, closed the door behind him, sat down in front of me, and said:
"Hobbes, I know you're a young guy, just starting out in your career, so you're not going to know about these things. I like you, you're a talented writer, but you need to learn how to behave with your clients." And then proceeded to lecture me for about an hour.
He was polite, but firm. I could also see he was really pissed off and I knew I had made a serious error in judgement. However, my employers never heard anything about it, so it was just between me and him.
I'll never forget that day and what he taught me, although when faced with young professionals who treat me the way I treated him, I struggle with crossing that line everytime.
Thanks Don.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Suddenly squeemish
Note: squeemish people beware
It's weird how certain imagery will bother me in one instance and not in another. I usually enjoyed watching the various flavours of CSI and Law & Order, but last night I just could not bear to hear how these people died so horribly in their last moments.
It started with CSI: Miami (just Caruso's acting might make you squeemish enough) with a description of how a woman's ribcage was crushed, puncturing her lungs. I flinched and changed the channel quickly. A bit later, we started watching L&O: Criminal Intent (pre-D'Onofrio starring Chris Noth) and watched with horror an innocent man be bound, gagged, and chained on a tugboat. Then his kidnappers ripped off the gags and threw the chains off the boat, watching expressionlessly as they let the man scream until he disappeared beneath the water. I turned the TV off immediately and went to bed, calling it a night.
But I couldn't sleep. All I could see was the drowning man's terrified face as he watched the heavy chains disappear into the black depths with nary a splash. Over and over, I couldn't help but imagine his last moments as the water pressure squeezed the air from his lungs.
I'm terrified of death and personal suffering and the older I get, the worse it becomes. I've never been a fan of horror movies, but I find myself flinching at violence that I used to be able to shrug off.
Does this mean I'm struggling with my own mortality or the mortality of my loved ones?
It's weird how certain imagery will bother me in one instance and not in another. I usually enjoyed watching the various flavours of CSI and Law & Order, but last night I just could not bear to hear how these people died so horribly in their last moments.
It started with CSI: Miami (just Caruso's acting might make you squeemish enough) with a description of how a woman's ribcage was crushed, puncturing her lungs. I flinched and changed the channel quickly. A bit later, we started watching L&O: Criminal Intent (pre-D'Onofrio starring Chris Noth) and watched with horror an innocent man be bound, gagged, and chained on a tugboat. Then his kidnappers ripped off the gags and threw the chains off the boat, watching expressionlessly as they let the man scream until he disappeared beneath the water. I turned the TV off immediately and went to bed, calling it a night.
But I couldn't sleep. All I could see was the drowning man's terrified face as he watched the heavy chains disappear into the black depths with nary a splash. Over and over, I couldn't help but imagine his last moments as the water pressure squeezed the air from his lungs.
I'm terrified of death and personal suffering and the older I get, the worse it becomes. I've never been a fan of horror movies, but I find myself flinching at violence that I used to be able to shrug off.
Does this mean I'm struggling with my own mortality or the mortality of my loved ones?
Friday, October 14, 2005
Trolls Leave their Bridges
The Internet has the fantastic capacity to unite people. The vast expanses of land, sea, and air fall away only to be replaced by Internet Superhighways, allowing people to connect and build friendships and communities. It's an amazing feat of technology and simple human thirst for connection.
But with all that good, there will always be an element of badness, abuse, and just plain annoying. I am reminded of the early days of the Internet (before the graphical arrival of the World Wide Web) when email and usenet groups formed the first communities. My favourite hang-outs in those days were alt.folklore.ghost-stories and alt.shenanigans. These were the days before there was any Spam on the Internet, so these usenet groups were pretty junk-free. I go back to them occasionally, but they are so overloaded with Spam, it's not worth sorting through all the messages.
And with all those fantastic connections come the Trolls. These people are not interested in positive connections. What they want is to stir emotions, make people angry, and then absorb all the attention that comes with it. At first it was easy to spot these trolls: they wrote all in CAPS and their email addresses ended in AOL.com.
But as the mainstream audience becomes more net-savvy, the Trolls become trickier, sneakier, and harder to spot. They hide behind multiple email aliases, they lurk in elists waiting for the right moment to spout, they create elists of their own so they can say and spout at will and ad nauseum (sometimes their verbiage is only heard by their own mulitiple email aliases).
And somehow, we can't look away. We're facinated by the twisted, the insane, and the rambling. The wwweb is like a window into the mind of a serial psychopath, committing text-based atrocities right on our own screens. We shake our heads in wonder, shake our fists in rage, and reply with a great pounding of our keyboards, hoping that our own textual daggers can pierce through the wall of ignorance our targets have thrown up in all its HTML glory.
I can tell you that it's rarely very satisfying. True Trolls rarely admit they're wrong, no matter how passionately and logically you argue your point. And while these Trolls sleep happily under their bridges, a satisfied smirk on their lips at the chaos they've stirred, you're lying awake at night, formulating your response in harsh whispers, clutching at the sheets as if your mouse has crawled into bed with you.
I once had to muzzle a person on one of my elists because she was infuriating the other members with her trolling ("If you're irresponsible enough to get pregnant, then you don't deserve to keep your job!"). She tried to post to the list after I had gone to bed, and because she had been moderated, her post didn't go through. She tried resending it 12 times and then sent me 22 angry emails on why her post was getting through and who did I think I was to censor her.
After a frustrating day of angry emails back and forth (effectively feeding this Troll), I went to bed and didn't sleep a wink. I was afraid she was a nut, that she'd start calling me, that maybe she'd show up at my door, demanding her Internet rights.
I'm as guilty as anyone when it comes to feeding these Trolls with the attention they so deeply crave, but they really aren't worth the effort. Let the psychologists figure these people out. We must refrain from falling victim to these Trolls who not only feed on our attention, but also our emotions. I know it's hard, but it's best to walk away and not look back.
When I figure out how to do that completely, I'll let you know.
But with all that good, there will always be an element of badness, abuse, and just plain annoying. I am reminded of the early days of the Internet (before the graphical arrival of the World Wide Web) when email and usenet groups formed the first communities. My favourite hang-outs in those days were alt.folklore.ghost-stories and alt.shenanigans. These were the days before there was any Spam on the Internet, so these usenet groups were pretty junk-free. I go back to them occasionally, but they are so overloaded with Spam, it's not worth sorting through all the messages.
And with all those fantastic connections come the Trolls. These people are not interested in positive connections. What they want is to stir emotions, make people angry, and then absorb all the attention that comes with it. At first it was easy to spot these trolls: they wrote all in CAPS and their email addresses ended in AOL.com.
But as the mainstream audience becomes more net-savvy, the Trolls become trickier, sneakier, and harder to spot. They hide behind multiple email aliases, they lurk in elists waiting for the right moment to spout, they create elists of their own so they can say and spout at will and ad nauseum (sometimes their verbiage is only heard by their own mulitiple email aliases).
And somehow, we can't look away. We're facinated by the twisted, the insane, and the rambling. The wwweb is like a window into the mind of a serial psychopath, committing text-based atrocities right on our own screens. We shake our heads in wonder, shake our fists in rage, and reply with a great pounding of our keyboards, hoping that our own textual daggers can pierce through the wall of ignorance our targets have thrown up in all its HTML glory.
I can tell you that it's rarely very satisfying. True Trolls rarely admit they're wrong, no matter how passionately and logically you argue your point. And while these Trolls sleep happily under their bridges, a satisfied smirk on their lips at the chaos they've stirred, you're lying awake at night, formulating your response in harsh whispers, clutching at the sheets as if your mouse has crawled into bed with you.
I once had to muzzle a person on one of my elists because she was infuriating the other members with her trolling ("If you're irresponsible enough to get pregnant, then you don't deserve to keep your job!"). She tried to post to the list after I had gone to bed, and because she had been moderated, her post didn't go through. She tried resending it 12 times and then sent me 22 angry emails on why her post was getting through and who did I think I was to censor her.
After a frustrating day of angry emails back and forth (effectively feeding this Troll), I went to bed and didn't sleep a wink. I was afraid she was a nut, that she'd start calling me, that maybe she'd show up at my door, demanding her Internet rights.
I'm as guilty as anyone when it comes to feeding these Trolls with the attention they so deeply crave, but they really aren't worth the effort. Let the psychologists figure these people out. We must refrain from falling victim to these Trolls who not only feed on our attention, but also our emotions. I know it's hard, but it's best to walk away and not look back.
When I figure out how to do that completely, I'll let you know.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
The Sweet Taste of Power
There's been a reshuffle of positions at my client's site that has ended with me taking on more responsibility and more work, which has in turn extended the contract.
With this new position and mandate, I find I'm more motivated and feel better about my contribution to the project. I guess being in charge really suits me better.
In other business-related news, I'm working on a formal business plan with a consultant for my other writing business and I got a call from someone who is interested in me taking pictures of their handfasting (wedding).
If I could balance my worklife between writing, teaching, storytelling, and photography, I believe I'd be more fulfilled. That's important to me and I suspect it's important to you.
With this new position and mandate, I find I'm more motivated and feel better about my contribution to the project. I guess being in charge really suits me better.
In other business-related news, I'm working on a formal business plan with a consultant for my other writing business and I got a call from someone who is interested in me taking pictures of their handfasting (wedding).
If I could balance my worklife between writing, teaching, storytelling, and photography, I believe I'd be more fulfilled. That's important to me and I suspect it's important to you.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Writer's Block of the type of blockWriter block block
I'm documenting a system for my client (I'm a techwriter y'know) and had written up a few definitions for some parts of the application. When I'm defining a term, I try not to use the term itself in the definition. If you know what that term meant, then you wouldn't be looking it up right?
I sent the definitions out for review and I just got them back. I had to laugh when one of the definitions I wrote was scribbled out and, in its place, was written something like the following (I changed the actual terms to protect the inept):
RedBlockType:
RedBlockType is a block type declaration that defines a block of type “redblocktype”.
Note: the more you read it aloud, the dizzier you get. It helps if you spin your chair in place while you giggle non-sensically, waving your hands.
The funny (tragic?) thing is that programmers really think their writing is clear, concise, and a joy to read. And if you can't understand it, then you're just not smart enough to get it.
I sent the definitions out for review and I just got them back. I had to laugh when one of the definitions I wrote was scribbled out and, in its place, was written something like the following (I changed the actual terms to protect the inept):
RedBlockType:
RedBlockType is a block type declaration that defines a block of type “redblocktype”.
Note: the more you read it aloud, the dizzier you get. It helps if you spin your chair in place while you giggle non-sensically, waving your hands.
The funny (tragic?) thing is that programmers really think their writing is clear, concise, and a joy to read. And if you can't understand it, then you're just not smart enough to get it.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Postcards of the World: Lick!
I was listening to the CBC during my errands and I heard an interview with Mr. Risley, a Grade 6 teacher in California. He just started a project with his class that he hopes will open their minds and understanding on the different peoples of the world.
But his project depends upon those people of the world. He needs folks to send his students postcards from the edge of the earth that they are from. I'll be trying to find a unique postcard to send him, but if you're interested, here's his note:
Hi. My name is Jason. I teach 6th grade (11-12 year olds) in Perris, California. I am trying to improve my students' view of the world and increase their knowledge of geography. I am asking friends, acquaintances and even strangers to send an appropriate postcard to my class at:
Mr. Risley's Class
c/o "A" Street Elementary School
755 North "A" St.
Perris, CA 92570
USA
Please tell us: Your name, where your from, what you do for work and the subject of the picture on your postcard.
I would really appreciate any help in this. Your kindness will be VERY appreciated. :)
BTW, I really did hear the interview today on the CBC. This isn't some Internet mailing hoax that travels from Inbox to Inbox. And if you send him a postcard because you read this blog, could you mention the blog (shameless plug)?
But his project depends upon those people of the world. He needs folks to send his students postcards from the edge of the earth that they are from. I'll be trying to find a unique postcard to send him, but if you're interested, here's his note:
Hi. My name is Jason. I teach 6th grade (11-12 year olds) in Perris, California. I am trying to improve my students' view of the world and increase their knowledge of geography. I am asking friends, acquaintances and even strangers to send an appropriate postcard to my class at:
Mr. Risley's Class
c/o "A" Street Elementary School
755 North "A" St.
Perris, CA 92570
USA
Please tell us: Your name, where your from, what you do for work and the subject of the picture on your postcard.
I would really appreciate any help in this. Your kindness will be VERY appreciated. :)
BTW, I really did hear the interview today on the CBC. This isn't some Internet mailing hoax that travels from Inbox to Inbox. And if you send him a postcard because you read this blog, could you mention the blog (shameless plug)?
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Ig'nance of non-tea drinkers
I'm a tea guy; I've never gotten into the whole coffee-culture thing, although Ms.Carotte has gotten me addicted to Ice Cappacinos (which is the first step down a slippery slope, I realize).
But Tim's has decided to go after us, the utapped Tea Market and offer steeped tea, which to tea drinkers, is infinitely better than dropping a poor, unsuspecting tea bag into a boiling, screaming death pit. Kinda like sticking a live lobster tail first into a vat of boiling water: the agonizing death just does something nasty to the overall culinary experience.
But not all Tim's understand this. I went to a Tim's on St. Jacques and rolled up to the mechanical Tim attendant and said "I'll have a steeped tea, please."
"A what?" the speaker garbled.
"Tea. Steeped Tea, please," I replied.
There was a pause. "We only have regular tea sir," she replied.
"Steeped tea is regular tea! It's just been steeped!"
"What?"
"Do you have any prepared tea? Instead of just the hot water and tea bag?"
Another pause. "I'm sorry sir, we only have Earl Grey or Orange Pekoe."
Fine. I took what they had to offer, but the person I dealt with was obviously not a tea drinker. Apparently, Tim's will have to send their employees on a 6-week Tea Orientation course to understand the subtlties of tea drinking.
But Tim's has decided to go after us, the utapped Tea Market and offer steeped tea, which to tea drinkers, is infinitely better than dropping a poor, unsuspecting tea bag into a boiling, screaming death pit. Kinda like sticking a live lobster tail first into a vat of boiling water: the agonizing death just does something nasty to the overall culinary experience.
But not all Tim's understand this. I went to a Tim's on St. Jacques and rolled up to the mechanical Tim attendant and said "I'll have a steeped tea, please."
"A what?" the speaker garbled.
"Tea. Steeped Tea, please," I replied.
There was a pause. "We only have regular tea sir," she replied.
"Steeped tea is regular tea! It's just been steeped!"
"What?"
"Do you have any prepared tea? Instead of just the hot water and tea bag?"
Another pause. "I'm sorry sir, we only have Earl Grey or Orange Pekoe."
Fine. I took what they had to offer, but the person I dealt with was obviously not a tea drinker. Apparently, Tim's will have to send their employees on a 6-week Tea Orientation course to understand the subtlties of tea drinking.
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