doctoral candidate in rhetoric and scientific and technical communication
just a thought
taking the long way around
05 years ago
by dawn
in just a thought
I sometimes wonder if I missed my calling. Did I catch the wrong train in life? Did I follow the wrong diverged path through the woods?
I know I have an altruistic heart and mind. I know that I want to “do good” and give to others. But I wonder if I’m going about it all wrong.
I keep meeting people who have gone above and beyond. It’s like becoming best friends with the person who volunteers for “Doctors Beyond Borders” and you’re hanging out in your town donating used clothing to the women’s shelter.
When is enough enough? When am I giving enough or doing enough for my fellow humans or the earth?
Yeah, I recycle. I have a compost bin (and use it). I drive an economical car that is 10 years old (and still runs well and has low emissions). My home computer is 7 years old. I do donate clothes and supplies and food the local women’s shelter. I have donated money and photographs to the Katrina Relief fund, Cancer research, and Sharing Down Syndrome. I have donated time and supplies to the local Greyhound Rescue. I have donated time and money to various environmental groups over the years.
But is it enough?
One of my classmates went to Africa this year to build many houses with Habitat for Humanity. Other people I know have donated time and money to be in New Orleans, helping others rebuild their lives. Still others have done relief work overseas when the tsunami struck.
So I wonder. Am I giving enough of myself to others? Or am I being selfish?
I have a wonderful house on a few acres. I am working on my Master’s degree. I have a great job. I don’t have much extra money to spend on things but when I do, it’s either cameras or trips to take photographs. I spend my extra time with my nieces and nephews. Is this all selfish? Is it too much? Should I spend that extra money on others, relieving their pain?
But could I be doing more? Should I be a Big Sister to a child? Should I look into adopting a child who needs a good home?
Or if I do these things and my time and finances are taxed even more, would I be doing more damage than good?
I know that I have a vein of philanthropy that runs deep. And if I had more, I’d give more.
But I ask myself continually, “Have I given enough? When is enough enough? Am I doing justice by others? Am I giving unselfishly?”
I don’t think I have given enough. I’m not sure there ever is enough.
And that worries me.
secret
05 years ago
I got a secret and I cant explain
All the time, Ive waited for this day
All along I was never in doubt
I always knew it would never get out
There are things that I cannot tell
And there are things that you know damn well
This is getting very hard for me
I guess youd better just wait and see.
~ Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark ~
In Wray Herbert’s Newsweek column this week, he discusses secrets.
There is a lot of pressure to reveal our private lives, lest our dark secrets eat away at us from the inside and do serious physical and psychic damage. The impulse is evident everywhere, from the psychotherapist’s consulting room to 12-Step meetings to the pages of yet one more personal memoir of cruel parenting, sexual promiscuity or addiction.
Of course, I start thinking about blogs. Even political or technology blogs show a bit about the people who are writing them. We learn why someone leans a certain way politically and how personal that is or why someone is a Mac user versus a PC user and how passionate of a choice that can be.
We know that holding things in can be toxic for us. We’re told that often by our counselors and therapists and doctors and talk-show hosts and arm-chair psychologists. But the question arises. Are we sharing too much? Are we spilling our guts at the risk of our health?
In a recent study at the University of Notre Dame, researchers spoke with 100 participants about their secrets. They wanted to ensure that the secrets being kept were significant and not minor.
Contrary to the wisdom of deodorant marketers, the people hiding something actually had fewer psychosomatic symptoms than did those with clear consciences. By contrast, those with secretive personalities—people who guard everything from their golf handicap to their mother’s maiden name—were experiencing greater distress than the more open types.
The researchers found that those who kept secrets in order to preserve something within their lives actually ended up being a bit more healthy.
A problem drinker, for example, is no doubt calmer knowing her habit is not public knowledge; sharing that secret with a boss or coworkers could only add to the stress. In addition, fessing up about something like promiscuity or addiction or bulimia necessarily shapes one’s sense of identity. Well chosen secrets can preserve a more idealized—and healthier—self-image.
But I question this. Is a self-image based on a lie or a secret really healthy? Is it something that we should be proud of?
For instance, I’m a stress eater. I know this. It’s not a good thing. If I kept it a secret and hid it away, hoping no one would figure it out, would that be good for me? Instead, I choose to talk about it, face it, and try to deal with why I eat when I’m stressed. What is it about food that makes me feel better?
Wouldn’t I, if I hid this, become one of those people who stuffs my face while in the sanctity of my car or home – where no one could see me – instead of facing the issue? Wouldn’t I then have even more secrets?
Herbert’s last paragraph cracks me up.
So keep those pierced nipples to yourself. (It may be more than we want to know anyway!)
It cracks me up mostly because it made me think about a conversation at work where we were talking about tattoos and piercings and I said something about those private piercings. And I have a feeling that most of the people in that conversation now think I have piercings in unseen places – even when I don’t.
But that’s kind of a fun secret to have.
Because you never know. I could just decide to get those very piercings.
look around you
05 years ago
by dawn
in just a thought
Gives a whole new meaning to “pea brain”.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tQVnQ-kuWk]
selling with sex
05 years ago
This is nothing new. People have been using sex or sex appeal to sell things since the dawn of advertising, I would guess. I think of bathing suit clad beauties perched on old muscle cars. Or the half naked dancing man in Kmart commercials.
It’s about sex, baby. And it sells.
One company, shai clothing (pronounced “shy”), decided to take it up a notch. They aren’t just using sex – they are using porn to sell their clothes. I’m not talking soft core porn where you only see breasts and hear noises. Oh, no…it’s porn. Vaginal and anal penetration, blowjobs, and more. They have sections for men with men, women with women and women with men.
To be fair, they also have an “under 18″ area for those who are not of legal age to still be able to buy their clothing and they do stress that their site has porn on it and that it is safeguarded by one of those parental nanny systems.
Shai is a European company. It is not regulated by the same laws that regulate those within the United States.
That being said, they are very proactive about taking personal responsibility for what is shown and seen on the internet. In their Copyright & Credits they state,
Rules for Kids (Minors, Under legal age)
If you are under legal age, you should not enter this website!SHAÃ believes that children using the Internet require special protection, and we urge parents or guardians to explain Internet safety to their children. Parents are urged to spend time online with their children to become familiar the Internet in general.
Control tools are available from online services and software manufacturers to help create a safer environment for children. This web-site automatically alerts Parental Control Systems regarding its X-rated content.
For more information, please visit: http://www.icra.org/
And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? They have a feedback section where people are complaining about how blatant it is. People are complaining about how accessible it is.
But this is the thing…we are responsible for what happens on our computers. If our children are online, we are ultimately responsible for what they are doing, what they are seeing, and what they are accessing. We are. Not another company. Us.
When Willow comes over to visit, I am careful about what goes up on my screen. When I’m visiting flickr, I know that I may see some nudity and I use discretion in visiting the site.
We’ve tried, as a society, to completely remove ourselves from responsibility over our (and our childrens’) actions. We try to place blame everywhere else but where it ultimately resides: with us.
We are responsible for what happens on our machines. We have the power to disconnect. We have the power to lock them down. We have the power to disengage.
We should take these responsibilities seriously.
remember
05 years ago
by dawn
in just a thought
Memorial Day is not a day to honor those who are currently serving in our armed forces, although it is nice to remember them. It’s not a day about picnics or time at the beach or any other number of things we may do on this extended weekend in the United States.
Memorial Day was created to remember those who have given their lives in service to our country.
On this day, I would like to do that. Will you join me?
profiled
05 years ago
My Vegas trip was full of profiling. I really believe this to be true.
As I approached Hoover Dam, at the border between Arizona and Nevada, I had to pull over with all of the other cars. We went through this little check point.
The guys waved my car through. However, they pulled over a truck full of dark-haired men and had them out of the car and opening up the covered backend area so they could see what was in there.
The thing is, though, that I have darkly-tinted windows and a closed trunk on my car. Who is to say I wouldn’t have something in there? I didn’t, of course, but who’s to say I wouldn’t.
As I drove up to the Bellagio to go to the Ansel Adams exhibit, there were security guards stopping cars to look inside.
They waved me through. However, they had stopped the car before me and had them open their trunk.
While I didn’t get to see the people in the car before mine, I had the distinct feeling that we were being profiled.
It happened again on my way back across the Hoover Dam.
This was disturbing to me. I felt like there was serious discrimination going on during this trip. It made me wonder how it would be to look different or to be male.
How would I feel about being pulled over for how I looked?
I’d be hurt. I’d be upset.
I wouldn’t show it (because who knows what they’d do if I did that) but I think I would still feel that way.
walking to a beat
05 years ago
I went to the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.
It was amazing.
I almost started crying. I was so touched by so many of the images and by his words. Incredible. Absolutely incredible.
He photographed people. In fact, his people shots are absolutely amazing. One image of Georgia O’Keefe blew me away. The way he captured her personality was so real that I could practically hear her laughing through the photograph. He made me want to know her even more.
But this is the thing that really touched me. I have had comments on my photographs that have sometimes struck me as the viewer not understanding what I was trying to do. Some of the things Adams did are the very things that I do. Some of his results were very similar to the results I get. And yet, by fellow photobloggers, they are considered flaws in the photography.
I think that what the exhibit taught me is that I want to be true to myself. If I do post-processing in Photoshop or PaintShopPro or shoot at a different angle or try something that is a bit off compared to others, I’m okay with that. If I’m not happy with what I’m doing and if I’m just trying to please everyone else so that I’ll fit in with the crowd, what good is that going to do for me? I’d be miserable.
When people I admire (online and/or off) tell me that they like something, that is when I’m truly touched. For instance, recently the graphic design manager in my department told me that I had a good eye and she liked some of my work. She even used one of my photographs in an advertisement for a paper she helps with. That really made me smile. Or when my boss, who has a degree in photography, says that she likes my photographs and wants to go out shooting with me (we are going out to the Petrified Forest on Saturday – with Willow), I’m wowed by that.
This is beyond family. These are people who don’t have to say they like my work but do.
Ansel Adams loved my part of the world, much as I do. He took photographs of some of the very same things that I’ve shot, myself.
He was a photographer that beat his own drum.
If there is nothing else that I take from that excursion, it is that. I can beat my own drum and be proud of that.
don’t fence me in
05 years ago
My beloved state of Arizona is in the national news again.
Nothing to be proud of, to be sure.
Earlier this week, we made the national news because a local case is being presented to the Supreme Court.
In the summer of 2000, in the neighborhood next to mine (at the time), Eric Clark took his brother’s truck out for a midnight drive. He was racing up and down the streets with the radio blaring.
The police were called. This was supposed to be a simple public nuisance case where the teenager would be pulled over, hands slapped, parents admonished, and everyone would go on their way.
It turned into a nightmare for two families and a small city that prides itself on low crime.
Eric is a schizophrenic. His parents had desperately tried to get help for him but to no avail. He often talked about aliens and how Flagstaff was filled with 50,000 aliens and how even his parents were aliens. That night, Eric was in the depths of a delusional schizophrenic episode. Everyone he came into contact with were aliens and they had to be dealt with.
One of the people the seventeen-year-old came into contact with was Officer Jeff Moritz. Moritz was a four-year veteran of the Flagstaff Police Department, the father of one with one on the way.
In the early hours of that June morning, Eric and Moritz met up. Eric shot Moritz, knowing he was an alien. Moritz was the first Flagstaff officer shot in the line of duty.
A manhunt insued. It was a scary time because we didn’t know if the assailant was going to shoot anyone else. We didn’t know anything about him until much later. He was a few streets over from me the entire time.
The State of Arizona refuses to accept Eric’s plea of insanity. They agree he is schizophrenic. They agree he was delusional during the shooting. They refuse, however, to allow Eric to get the help he needs and want to send him to prison for the rest of his life.
The Supreme Court is going to decide if the right to put a killer into an institution for the mentally impaired is okay in light of a serious criminal act.
Eric Michael Clark is a sick young man. He needs serious help.
–
And now, the infamous Arizona Minutemen are demanding that President Bush take action on our borders. They say that if he doesn’t, they will erect fences on their own property to keep out Mexican nationals.
I keep getting images of the Berlin wall. Nearly twenty years ago, the Germans realized that a wall is a detrimental thing. It does not promote good relations. It does not stop people from crossing if they really want to. It is a blight on the face of the earth.
Sometimes I think that my fellow country-men are so backward thinking. We’ve become a xenophobic nation.
We don’t look at ourselves as citizens of the world. Instead, it’s us versus them. Us against the world.
Our government has fostered that feeling with the whole “You’re either with us or against us” talks that have occurred since 9/11.
What a sad, hateful way to live.
a continuation
05 years ago
I got a few e-mails and comments on social software and commenting on blogs.
By and large, there was the comment of “I’m shy” or “I’m worried about what others will think about what I’m writing.”
This is the thing, though…
There is a certain level of anonymity in blogging. Unless you tell me who you are, I won’t know. And, unless you are flaming someone in your comments, no matter how stupid you may think those comments are, they may touch someone – they may make someone else more bold and willing to reach out, as well.
I know what this feels like. I’m more shy than people realize. I used to question the value or validity of my words. I used to wonder if I said things in a stupid manner or if I was harming someone with my words or making them uncomfortable. I was stressed about commenting.
Then I realized that it was my issue. The person on the other end usually valued my comment and if it wasn’t valued, then it just didn’t matter in the long run.
I decided to start commenting more. I didn’t want to conform to someone else’s theories about what should or should not be said in a comment. I would comment on how an entry made me feel, what I was thinking, or whatever.
Sometimes they are in left field. I don’t care. That’s what I was thinking while I read the blog. If the owner of the blog doesn’t understand, I leave plenty of ways for them to contact me (e-mail/website, etc.).
But I reach out because I do want to be a part of that social network. It is a step for me. I’m shy in real life and don’t venture out to be in group settings much. This is my way of being a part of the group. Of getting my two-cents out there, sharing, learning from others, being engaged, and growing.
social software
05 years ago
When I started my graduate degree, I knew I wanted work with blogs in some way. I think they are a great tool. I think that they are a wonderful way to share a bit of our selves with the outside world.
They are, too, a great way to reach out and engage others, to get feedback, to encourage healthy discourse, and to be able to connect with others.
As my studies have progressed and I’ve gotten more involved in my job, I’ve realized that what really interests me is social software. This is the software that connects us with others: IM, blogs, bulletin boards, wikis, podcasts, etc.
The key to all of this, though, is that we connect. We share. We talk. We comment, we critique, we get involved. It requires effort on both sides of the event for it to work properly. It is, afterall, social software.
I think this really hit me this morning as I was going through some blogs for some information. There are some great blogs out there that are getting little or no reader response. Why is that?
We write, post images, share information and want others to respond to us. But do we respond to them? Do we go out and look for new blogs that engage us? And if we do find them, do we participate? Are we active in creating that social network?
I know, I know. We’re all too busy, too stressed, too apathetic.
I think it’s important, though, that if we want to be a part of a community that we not only write in our own blogs but we comment in others. That is what keeps the community going.