I’m currently working on the ‘other social media channels’ chapter of our book. There will be a sizable section on Twitter. One small question I’m struggling with is “should organizations follow everybody who follows them?” The safe answer, of course, is ‘yes’. That seems to be the prevailing etiquette (Twittequette?). But it’s not one to which I subscribe.
I’ve mused on this subjectbefore, and I’d rather not muse on it again. It’s the kind of echo-chambery silliness that gets much too much play online. But, in the interests of writing a useful book, here I go again.
Is Mutual Following the Predominant Behaviour?
First off, is mutual or reciprocal following the predominant behaviour? I think so, though I haven’t seen any empirical data or surveys on the subject. I receive an occasional coolly-worded tweet from somebody on Twitter that implies that I should be following them presumably because they’re following me. Lee recently mentioned how that he doesn’t adhere to this policy. His approach seems similar to my own views on the subject:
I take a decidedly lightweight approach to social media. If I haven’t met you or don’t know you personally, I’m not likely to add you as a friend or follow you. I currently follow about 200 people on Twitter and it’s still too much. When I follow someone with the @leelefever account, I try keep up with most of their updates. This is how I’ve always used Twitter.
Giving into this perceived social pressure would force an unwelcome change in how I want to use Twitter, and make it a less useful tool.
The New Blogroll?
Julie pointed out that reciprocal following feels a bit like the new blogroll. A blogroll was a handy way of linking to all of the websites you read. It was also a polite way to recognize that another blog or site had linked to you. They ‘voted’ for your site, and in return you ‘vote’ for theirs using your blogroll.
I’m not sure why (though I expect RSS played a role), but blogrolls seem to be going out of fashion. And the difference between a blogroll and reciprocal following on Twitter is that the former is a passive list on a static page or sidebar, while the latter changes how you use the tool.
In both cases, the behaviour feels kind of punctilious–that I’m doing it primarily for the sake of appearances. The two perspectives feel like, I don’t know, like the socialist versus capitalist view of Twitter. What do you think?
Back in July, I wondered why we didn’t have doulas for the process of dying. Several commenters suggested that hospice and careworkers filled this niche, and I thought thought that explanation made sense.
However, there’s apparently still a market for death doulas or, as I read in today’s Miami Herald, death midwives:
An ordained minister from Sebastopol, Calif., Lyons started a nonprofit organization called Final Passages. She teaches workshops about such topics as how to care for a body while it’s in the family home and about burials outside traditional cemeteries.
Lyons also guides families through the legalities and paperwork of at-home funerals — death certificates and body transport permits — while providing emotional support and counseling. Her services can run from $500 to $1,500.
As a very unscientific litmus test of this idea’s popularity, I’ll note here that since July 29, there have been 65 people that found this site while searching terms relating to doulas and death. I’ll try to check back in another six months or a year, to see if there’s any up-tick in activity.
I bought my white mid-range MacBook in August, 2007. About ten months later, little cracks appeared on the keyboard’s faceplate. They were on the seam where the top faceplate meets the front of the laptop, and maybe half a centimeter wide.
Eventually little strips of plastic snapped off the top of my laptop. It was really only an aesthetic problem, but the thing was still under warranty, so I got it fixed. It’s a good thing, too, because I seem to recall the Apple technician telling me the faceplates were, like, $500 to replace.
I’m quite a heavy-handed typist. Maybe that’s it? Or is it my incredibly muscular wrists? In truth, it seems like an ongoingdefect with the plastic and design of the faceplate. It’s not thick or strong enough to bear the ongoing weight of lazy typists who don’t pick up their wrists when they’re working.
After a year and a half with this MacBook, that and the overly-hot base are my only complaints. Later in 2009 I might upgrade to a MacBook Air, or I might go with another MacBook. Apple has given me little reason to return to the wayward Windows ways of my youth.
I know I’m late to this ballgame, but I just saw this and it struck me as pretty amusing:
This isn’t the first of these remixes that I’ve seen using this snippet from the exceptionally good German film Der Untergang. Is there a Hitler video generator out there on the web somewhere?
We’re on our way back to Panama City tomorrow. I’ve read some more books, and will spend my first hours in civilization desperately seeking English language literature. Following on from part one, here’s what I read:
Little Brother – This is a Cory Doctorow novella for young audiences. It tells a gripping, Orwellian tale of terrorist attacks, hackers and civil disobedience in our uber-surveilled world. It’s a righteous indictment (from a Canadian, I’m proud to point out) of torture, police brutality and how 9/11 has restricted personal freedoms in the US. It’s also full of cogent mini and micro essays on a slough of digital rights issues: file sharing, online privacy, cryptography, DNS and so forth. They read a little like EFF propaganda at times, and only present one perspective on these thorny issues. I almost always agree with that perspective, but it’s so vigorously argued I’d want young reader to consider some alternative points of view.
Next – Michael Crichton’s novel was one of the bloated, mouldering books on the shelf here at Punta Laurel. I hadn’t read a Crichton book since Jurassic Park in my adolescence, so I thought I’d give this one a try. He might as well have skipped the novel and gone straight to the screenplay. That’s what the book reads like–action sequences interspersed with a lot of pseudo-science. I did appreciate that both Doctorow and Crichton included extensive bibliographies at the end of their books–I wish all novelists would do this.
Everything’s Eventual – In the past, I’ve found Stephen King’s short stories to be his creepiest work. Not so much with this set of 14 stories. Most of them seemed a little flawed, or incomplete, or wrong-noted somehow. I was pleased to read “The Little Sisters of Eluria”, which featured Roland, the gunslinger from King’s excellent “Dark Tower” series of books. I kept hearing Leonard Cohen’s “Sisters of Mercy” in my head while reading it. I haven’t seen the movie made from the stand-out story “1408″, starring John Cusack and Samuel L. Jackson. While I often find that short stories lend themselves to novels, there isn’t really enough meat on the bones of this one for even a 90-minute movie. Judging from the trailer, the screenwriters fleshed things out quite a bit.
Tribes – Seth Godin’s latest book is, to quote Stephen King, “a little fingernail paring of a book”. It’s his bite-sized take on leadership, and largely feels like a distillation or tweaking of the ideas from his previous books. One of Godin’s gifts is, I think, identify truths that should be self-evident, and articulating them in an inspiring and consumable way. His ideas are worth revisiting (“safe is risky and risky is safe” is a mantra around Capulet), and Godin does make some astute observations about leadership in an Internet-enabled world. However, the book feels a little rose-tinted, under-structured and incomplete for my liking. I think it under-estimates the difficulties of leadership, and is pretty light on the how-to’s. Still, many should find it inspiring, and I’d recommend it as a quick primer in Godinosity.
The Interloper – A first novel by Antoine Wilson. It’s a mixed bag, really. There are some terrific bits, and some lovely characterization. On the other hand, the diction feels overly fussy in places, and the plot is pretty predictable. I’m often frustrated by the work of young artists when it’s too concerned with the process of their art form. Full of letters faked by the protagonist and rambling diary entries, The Interloper seems overly interested in the act of writing. I did like a quote in the novel that apparently comes from another source “writing is like trying to dance with a bear who only wants to wrestle”. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it somehow resonates.
It’s the holiday season, and I’m down near the equator. I thought it’d be a great idea to try to raise some money to make a Kiva loan to somebody in the region.
I’m using ChipIn to collect the money, and then I’ll choose an entrepreneur on Kiva to donate it to (suggestions will be welcome). I’ll follow up in the new year with details of where the money went.
If you’ve enjoyed my blog this year, here’s a good way of saying thanks. Skip your mochaccino and pumpkin scone this morning and donate five bucks to the cause. It’ll go to good use, and as it’s a loan that can be used over and over again once it’s paid back, it’s money that will, as the kids say, keep on giving:
If you’re unfamiliar with Kiva, they’re an extraordinary success story in micro-lending to the developing world. Instead of donating money to a charity for food or development aid, you loan money to an entrepreneur who pays it back over a specified period. It’s that old teach-a-man-to-fish thing, writ large. They’ve loaned $1.2 million dollars in the last seven days. Seven days!
I’d like to post, as the kids once said, shout-outs to those who made donations. Feel free to leave a comment here, or in the payment process, or drop me an email. Thanks in advance!
UPDATE: I should have mentioned that once the first loan is paid back (the default rate at Kiva is 2.8%, so the odds are good), I’ll loan the money out again. And again and again.
We’re back in Bocas Town for some internet access and a few days’ change of scene after a week out at Punta Laurel. I just uploaded sixty photos from the trip (here’s a slide show). If I had to pick three favourites, they would be:
Punta Laurel is essentially a series of thatched huts connected by walkways, built around a big rock and above a coral reef. It’s designed for groups of up to about ten people, but we’re the only people here.
It’s a bit like camp. Things are kind of rustic–there’s a generator for lights in the evening and recharging our laptops, a composting toilet and an outdoor rainwater shower. There are simple activities–swimming, snorkeling, reading, sleeping like a teenager. And somebody cooks for us. Two local women come over in a little boat from the nearest island. The food is simple–fish, lobster, shrimp, lots of rice and fresh fruit–but very satisfactory.
The weather here is as changeable as I’ve ever seen anywhere. The sun shines, it rains, the wind whips up, the sun shines, all in the matter of an hour. It’s been mostly bright, with occasional intense showers.
Muchos Flora y Fauna
It’s a joy to be surrounded by so much wildlife. I spotted my first ever moray eel (I mean, aside from the local aquarium) while snorkeling the other day. I was floating about three feet above some coral, and he unfolded out of a crevice. He rose toward me, all freckled and the bright green of an under-ripe tomato.
I’m man enough to admit that I panicked a little. His snout was easily as big as a small terrier’s. There was no doubt about who was the resident and who was the interloper. He stopped after a foot or so, though, no doubt intimidated by my manic thrashing. I’ve returned to his nook on several occasions to observe the eel, but I’ve kept a little more distance.
I’ve seen dozens of other species of fish whose names I don’t know. Big schools of them. I also saw bioluminescent algae for the first time in my life. Little clouds of it floated by one evening, looking rather like (I searched for a more decorous metaphor) irradiated semen.
There are also flocks of seabirds who regularly circle our little island. Pelicans skim over the waves, frigatebirds wheeling overhead, big white egrets fish off the rocks and little terns spend their evenings perched on the dock. We also saw a harpy eagle, Panama’s national bird.
We’re headed to a different, waterborne resort for a couple of days, and then back to Punta Laurel for another five or six days. On Boxing Day it’s back to Bocas Town, then back to Panama City the next day. We’re going to explore Panama’s capital for a few days before it’s on to Manhattan for New Year’s, and back home in the first days of 2009.
As we’re kicking it Robinson Crusoe style in a remote corner of Panama, I’ve got an unusual amount of time for reading. I brought several books, but I suspect I’ll be through those before we get back (my FOLORM, fear of lack of reading material, is kicking in). Fortunately, there’s a bunch of books here at Punta Laurel, swollen with the humidity. Some of them even look quite promising. There’s a memoir by Nicholas Sparks, for example. Or, if I’m looking for lighter fare, there’s Julia London’s hilariously titled The Hazards of Hunting a Duke.
In any case, I wanted to write some brief blurbs about the books I’d read. I always feel out of my depth when this site touches on literary criticism, but bear with me:
Foreskin’s Lament – A memoir by Shalom Auslander about growing up an orthodox Jew in New York. If you’re a regular listener to This American Life, you’ve probably heard Auslander tell stories of his ultra-conservative upbringing. It’s a quick read, and terrifically funny. Here’s a quick excerpt:
My family and I are like oil and water, if oil made water depressed and angry and want to kill itself, so Orli and I decided to hire a doula to help us with the birth. Her name was Mary, and she came over a few afternoons later to get acquainted.
“We don’t speak to our families,” I said.
“That’s sad,” said Mary.
“Not as sad as when we do,” I said.
Netherland – A masterfully-written novel by Joseph O’Neill. I first head about it via the gang at the Slate Audio Book Club, who fell all over themselves in praising the book. Stephen Metcalf called it “the best English language novel I’ve read in years”. I’d have to agree. It’s an extraordinarily well-observed story of a troubled marriage, post 9/11 New York and a passion for cricket. O’Neill’s writing reminded me of Nabokov more than once. Consider this sentence that opens a chapter early in the book:
As a teenager I often bicycled into the center of The Hague, a half-hour’s effort of pedaling made both more difficult and more pleasant by a girlfriend who, in accordance with local romantic traditions, sat leggily sidesaddle on the rear seat and accepted this modest transportation with a stalwartness that has, I’m sure, stood her in good stead in later life.
