Archive for the ‘writing’ Category

What happened to blogging?: Part II

I admire folks like Laurie Kendrick…and Mike over at Aye Wonder.

Keeping up a blog isn’t easy. I think I just created too many and got overwhelmed. Then I guess I just forgot about them. I don’t think it was an overnight thing…just slowly but surely I just stopped.

I’m never at a loss for words. But I’m finding it odd that something I went after for about three years could just stop being a part of my weekly process. Somewhere in there work got in the way I’m sure, but it doesn’t take a lot to post something here, does it?

I look at the blog I used to have here and it makes me a little teary. I met so many interesting people. I laughed, sympathized, made a few friends, cried…became inspired. Now I’m left wondering whether or not to close this one up and start anew. Although since I have dropped off on writing, I don’t think I have many readers left anyway.

I’m thinking about Tumblr and Posterous. Maybe those are more my speed for now. In that span of three  years I’ve gone through illness, job descriptions changes and spiritual awakenings. A lot of which I’ve shared here. I don’t really know now where I’m headed, with this blog or in general. But 2010 has me inspired again and I want to continue writing. One place or another…

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What happened to blogging?

Is it just me or did blogging fall by the wayside after Twitter and Facebook blew up in a big way? As I type my current Facebook status reads: Jenice…is wondering the way of blogging. Do people read them anymore? Is Twitter the “new” way to tell what’s on your mind or just a supplement? What will next year’s outlet be? Seriously, what are your thoughts on blogs. Embarrassingly I have way too many that I don’t update nearly enough.

See, I chose to first ask this question on Facebook. Not on my blog. There was a time when the blog comments here were very engaging. I was mostly on myspace at the time as my other social media outlet and hated using it. Pretty much felt like a big high school hallway so I limited it to just for my photography business.

I moved on to Facebook surprisingly because of my job. We were on the brink of integrating how we used social media in our work.  Then one person found me, then another, then somehow friends of friends of friends wanted to add me and I’ve ended up with nearly 700 “friends.” The quotes around friends is not meant  to be snide, it just happens that I probably am really good friends with a handful of the people I’ve befriended on Facebook. However SEVERAL of them have helped me in one way or another or vice versa. Very useful thing, Facebook…

But I remember the geekish thrill and excitement I had when I was ready to post my next blog entry. Then one day it stopped. Why is that? Boredom? Or just a progression of all social media…on to the next thing. I’m torn between several blogs that need updating. This was my very first blog so I’m quite partial to it. But I wonder if my readers are out there anymore anyway…as humans we naturally just, well…move on.


Twitter replacing my blogging…?

I don’t think I can shut this blog down. Though I know my readers have probably left me long ago. I just don’t have the focus for it now that I’m on Twitter. Is that pathetic? Who knows for how long this trend will last. But I’m micro-blogging everyday on my page @Jenice78. I have a lot to say and sometimes nothing at all. But in this world of get it now, short and sweet, blogging can become pretty difficult. How about you? Are you finding the same problem?

I will surely come back here again very soon and talk to you some more…if anyone is even left! But until then, you can read my ramblings on my Twitter page. And I still continue to update my photo blog at artsbyjphotography.com.

Who else is still out there, WordPress writers?

Day 63: The power of a note on the door…

Be gone all you thiefs!I woke up to discover this morning that my tiny Christmas tree equipped with tiny, shiny, glittery little ornaments was swiped from my front porch. I know that it may not have been the best thing — to actually leave something I gave a rip about on the front porch. But combined with the gold bells on my door, the bow I made latched on to the door knocker — everything felt so nice when I came home. Because from inside and out my house was so very pleasantly festive with Christmas cheer. Well, my Christmas cheer faded with my little discovery.

I became enraged. I left a polite note on my neighbor’s door about it after looking around the complex (and glancing the trash) to see if I would find it somewhere. I sat in my house, numb with anger of course. I’ve been robbed several times in my life. Mostly related to my car. This was it. So I kept checking the peep hole every now and then just to see if I saw someone to ask questions. Then I noticed this one young looking guy coming down from upstairs who looked quite guilty when he stopped at my neighbor’s door to read my note which read:

“If you happen to know who stole my tree, please let me know. It wasn’t very nice. Signed (my apartment number).”

Then after he read it, he looked down directly where my Christmas tree WOULD have been. When I saw his face I decided to draft another letter and this time put it on MY door. This one read:

“Merry Christmas Asshole. Whoever stole my fucking Christmas tree doesn’t know who they are fucking with. You will get yours — one way or another. Signed (my apartment number).”

I fumed. Ran errands and came home. Then I heard some really loud walking and looked out the peephole. I saw my “friendly” upstairs neighbor going downstairs. I decided to wait for her to head back up. She would have to pass my door to get to her apartment. I waited because the connection was made. She was surely friends with the guy from earlier in the afternoon. Before I could completely ask her if she had heard anything funny last night she confessed that her friend stole my tree. She said he was “intoxicated” and that she was sorry and was bringing back the tree. Guess what she said next?

“I didn’t appreciate that note. It wasn’t very Christmas-like…”

THE BALLS ON THIS CHICK! I told her I didn’t give a damn, she stole from me and that I’ve been through a lot in my life. And that I didn’t appreciate HER stealing from me. She proceeded to say it wasn’t her. It was her friend. Same damn thing. Long story longer, she brought it back and said that she didn’t want it to affect things with her and I. Hilarious. My punctuation mark was letting her know I’ve been victimized in my life and that stealing from me was wrong. She felt like shit. Her face was if she may have concluded I was once upon a time kidnapped and left for dead.

What does this have to do with the countdown? Nothing. An hour walking in a parade carrying a giant Curious George yesterday and ending my day getting back stolen property counts as a workout for me.

FIN.

Spell check your support…

bling.jpgWhile driving to an event tonight, I was stuck behind a biker. No biggie. I enjoy bikers. I even own a lucky Harley Davidson ring…

However this biker was a tad different. Among all the leather strapped at his calves, the leather vest, the hankerchief tight around his head — I noticed something kind of odd. He had one of those ticker messages on his bike. You know the ones club kids used to wear that were made into belt buckles? And you could change the message to stupid crap like Vote for Pedro or Blow Me or whatever. Well this was actually one of those ticker things but made to be an accessory for the rear of a motorcycle.

I sat at the light. Reading it. And it started out by stating, “Support our troops.” I can go along with that, no matter my views on the war. I thought that was it and so I turned my head a minute, fiddled with the stereo and then I looked up to see the tail end of the word “return.” Being that this was a super traffic-filled evening, I had time to read it all. I blinked in disbelief and I tilted my head when I realized what it said.

“Support our troops & pray for thier safe return…”

Nope. I didn’t spell that wrong by accident. The message really read with the word “thier” in it. I’m all for free speech, but make sure you spell check it first.

Uh oh. I’m shaping young minds!

Yesterday was very serial. So much so that I forwent writing about the city council here or Ellen’s stupid crying about a dog (topics I planned to write about today.) I woke up this morning still thinking about it so I decided to write.

I was asked to speak to a high school in the community I cover. I always get nervous when I’m asked to do these things. Because today’s teens are definitely not yesterday’s teens — they know so much more and don’t tolerate the same things we used to. I also get a little nervous because being that I’m still fumbling along in this industry, even though in a much better role now, so I just can’t help wondering how in the world am I supposed to shape young minds about journalism when I’m still trucking along myself. I’m not a shy person as I’m sure you have guessed but knowing these two things when I’m in front of a classroom gives me the shakes.

Also they had to take notes. So the moment I started talking — I stopped. Then laughed that they had to take notes. Good start so far. Everyone laughed right along. I told of my triumphs and many tribulations — as I believe the teacher had wanted me to. I even revealed that I was a cocktail waitress for a time while freelancing. I gave them the goods. And man the questions they asked! Even the teacher. I tap-danced through some of them because they were along the lines of “what will happen to journalism’s integrity.” Hum…I wanted to have our official bigwig next to me for some of those questions, but I managed and heads nodded and notes were written. As I gave many of my answers I kept thinking, “Is that me saying this?” because they weren’t exactly bad or ridiculously misguided. I think I did alright and a lot of the girls said they liked my outfit, which was the most important thing for me to get right before walking in the room. You know how teen girls can be about fashion!

It just didn’t seem that long ago that I was in their place, sitting there listening to a guest speaker. Very serial and it struck a cord in my heart because I envied them so much. Just to be in that school desk, knowing what I know now would be a gift. I even told them so. I warned them of everything in this industry and the plus of the whole “high” of it. I warned them to take all the classes I didn’t — video editing, page building. I pushed them on internships and the importance of knowing what you have a passion for over the money it can bring. And they seemed entertained and hopefully left with their heads no longer in clouds about how quickly they will be in a significant role in their future careers.

Once upon a very long time ago, I wanted to be a teacher. But as things pushed along (a broken engagement and some hard-knock lessons learned) I wandered down to the basement of my college and filled out the application to be a reporter for the school paper. Addicted ever since except the small moments in which I’m in a classroom. This will sound very sappy so I warn you, but somehow being in that room with bright, eager faces ready to learn, I wonder what I may have missed not being teacher and what kind of one I would have been.

Technology and the loss of innocence

Someone should figure out how to bottle innocence. Once in a tightly sealed and hopefully decorative container, it should reside behind a glass shelf that reads in all red cap letters: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, BREAK GLASS. Driving to my parents’ house usually brings my mind to way too many thoughts. It’s not a very long drive, but long enough and passes through enough traffic to make the mind wander.

Usually when I reach the town they live in, I’ve already relived high school. This usually means I’ve made the mistake of listening to the older pop/rock stations and heard something that reminded me of that time or this time with so and so and what’s-their-face. It becomes even a more sad affair when I decide to make a detour to one of the millions of local Sonics for a quick slush. Why? Because I usually pass my old high school. Or go down a street I had driven years ago to get back home, only it had a few less churches and strip malls then. I just start thinking…

Today I started thinking about innocence. And what, like I mentioned, would happen if I could drink such sweet nectar as our lost innocence in case of an emergency. My emergency would be to erase how technology has made communication so damn impersonal. Even though as you would figure it, technology should make things easier — more communicative. Easier, yes. More communicative, no. I’ve lost relationships via email. Lost them over the Web. Destroyed them in text messages. What happened to communication? The good old fashioned kind? I would settle for two soup cans and string if that would get me to it better. What happens when we get so advanced we forget humanity? Break out the label-makers because yes, you can label this as very idealist and sappy. But can you answer this question? Have you even thought about it?

Not only that, things get misinterpreted all the time when they aren’t said. For example a recent text I got from a guy who is trying to get back in my life (not sure if I’m really into that idea anymore) said something about “no strings attached.” Upon closer reading I realized he meant that comment on his end not mine. He meant, “Just let me take you to dinner, no strings attached.” I had to re-read this because there was a misplaced comma but it might as well be passivity in language, lack of spell check…things just get lost. The same can be said when you are angry. Once you have sent that message it’s gone and more than likely you will not get a chance to explain yourself verbally, in person or with those soup cans.

We rely so much on things that aren’t breathing. Somewhere we lost our bottle of innocence. The essence of what is pure. Our youth. We have grown so old and above ourselves. We put the gospel on the words we read on little LCD screens, monitors — the underside of your flip phone. There is no second story or forgiveness once it’s all out there. There is no discussion. Well, there is this forum of communication — blogging. We use our blogs as an open dialog stream of consciousness where everyone can come in and have their say. We use our blog as a reciprocal place to meet wits. But even this wonderful vein of technology can only mimic the real thing. In the end there is just no comparison to the spoken word. It came first. It is the skeleton of it all. The point of it all. I only hope it doesn’t get buried in pixels, bytes and coding!