Today while lying in my hammock, I got to thinking about how things seem to get screwed up, especially on the Internet. It is the nature of the beast, it gets us all, and the reasons are fairly simple, nothing complex about it.
This year (which is incidentally better than half way over), I have learned some new tricks, smoothed out some new wrinkles in my life. Learned if you see a notice on a FakeBook site and it says, “Closed Site” or something stating it is more or less private, then it would be a good deal to pass.
As you age, change is inevitable and in my case, hard to adjust to. I guess, unlike the typical Okie, who lives in a fast-paced, experience-driven, multiple-option world, where choice and personal values pale beside the possibility of exposure to the latest, the biggest, the fastest, the most prestigious, and don’t forget ……. “the best” ……. or the most expensive.
All this week for some strange reason I have been obsessing with time. Which is a form of anxiety or worry I suppose you could say. Each day I swear to myself, “I am going to write a piece on time” but never seem to get to it for some reason. Continue reading
This is going to sound strange to some of you, and if you do not buy into it, that is fine. But I swear, as hard as it is to say it this is true. (I am not making this up …well most of it anyway)
We are in China-World, Cup Cake and myself, and we are standing in the home appliance section, she is looking for this waffle-looking-cooking deal and I am as usual, bored out of my skull. Continue reading
There is something being kicked around, a new vision on the horizon for bus owners. People are discussing the possibility of bringing something back from the dead (no this is not Jerry Springer, this is the real deal), a de facto expired bus board pulled from the trash-bin and given new life. Continue reading
Holy Smokes, so late in life, but I may have a Man Crush … I could be in love? It could be I am falling hard for one or two of my Internet Hero’s. It is after all, close to spring. A full moon, maybe something in the water. I have developed here lately some kind of weird affectation for Mung, or Vern, or ROS on the bus boards and I don’t know why?
As I absolutely hate all these people who use big words just to make themselves look perspicacious. I will do my level best to make sure this is not long in the tooth, nor boring.
Here goes. Continue reading
This week has been interesting to say the least, I am finding myself somewhat intrigued by this Facebook thing, is it going to go under or is it going to stay? Are those die-hard Facebooker’s going to survive or are they going to melt down into some kind of sniveling mass of humanity?
Some of us are “people kind of people” we enjoy other folks, conversation with strangers, friends, and sometimes, relatives (but not often). Facebook serves one purpose if anything and that is this. It is a shinning example of how remote and disconnected we have become in the age of communication. It is awful hard to be a people-person in today’s world. Call Waiting, Voice Messaging, Text Messaging, that is the cat’s meow as my Grandmother used to say. A post card in the mail, unheard of in the 21st Century.
“We are so busy we cannot come to the phone right now”
“At the tone, leave your message.”
“We are so busy OD’ing on Vitamin E we cannot come to the …..
Well, you get it dont’cha?”
I don’t understand why they avail themselves of all this technology only to ignore it in the end. It has reached a point where people no longer have time for people. So busy out making a life, that they miss out on life completely. I believe Brad Paisley has a song about it all, it is called “Living On Fast Forward.”
To coin a phrase, “Stop the World, I want off.”
As you age, change is inevitable and in my case, hard to adjust to. I guess, unlike the typical Okie, who lives in a fast-paced, experience-driven, multiple-option world, where choice and personal values pale beside the possibility of exposure to the latest, the biggest, the fastest, the most prestigious, and don’t forget ……. “the best” ……. or the most expensive. I am out of touch. Everyone around me is zippin’ down the Information Highway and I am here, stuck on the on-ramp waiting for a break in the traffic.
The other day, our grandson Kyle, the “teenager” (groan) was over here, and I swear, that kid got more telephone calls, text messages, than I have had in say, five years? Yeah, that wouldn’t be so unreasonable to say. He has 1,500 songs on his I-pod thingy, who in the world has time to listen to fifteen-hundred songs? He said he was streaming live something or rather, and has downloaded his upgrade five times ….. give me a break.
Surround yourself with modern day trappings, and you in the end, still have what everyone else has, not much. Never before have there been so much transmission of information and so little true communication. Innovative communications methods and machinery have been developed and embraced in the past decade, yet the human beings for whom those tools have been developed have increasingly lost touch with the art of personal communication.
One of the very reasons that the Internet took off like it did, was the bare fact, that you could do it all “anonymously” and did not have to inter-relate with anyone. Communication with total strangers and NO commitments. Face it, communication has taken on an entirely new meaning these days.
Tailor made for the American Psyche. A new American lifestyle … Cocooning … burrowing into one’s home/car where comfort and entertainment replace contact with people outside the immediate family. That is when they are not on a cell phone or some other gadget with lithium five year batteries.
Every time I return a business call, I get this line, “I am sorry, he is with a customer right now. Can he call you back?” so I give them the number and then I wait on the return call. More often than not, the call isn’t returned and the afternoon is wasted. The thing that gets me, is every time I go out there (to the business itself) someone will jump up from a desk walk across the room and inquire, “Can I help you?”
What’s the point? People don’t seem to have time for you, unless you have a dollar in your hand, that is.
“I gotta go Grandpa, I have this telemarketer on my other line. I will catch you later.”
Don’t bet on it.
Kathy is fifteen or sixteen, a junior in high school, she often works in her mama’s restaurant as a waitress, and I assume this is where she picks up her spending money. We have talked numerous times about a lot of things, contact lenses, school, college; boys that are stupid, what movie have you seen.
One thing I noticed about Kathy in our conversations is how important “networking with her friends seems to occupy a large part of her life.” She is on Myspace and she text messages on her cellphone, she has Twitter and I suppose a few others that I am not privy to.
It just struck me the way that all of this was so effective for her, how it works for the younger generation. I guess the thing that got me started down this path is the fact that “she and her girlfriends plan things before they do them.” They get together or rather they use the various mediums in their lives and they make plans and create order in their lives or social endeavors.
Now this is a prime indicator of how life in this day and age is important to the internet or different mediums and a necessary aspect of young people and to our society in general. I found myself thinking about when I was the same age, and how we did things. Being from small town America, we would drive down to Main Street on Friday night, park and when someone came by and stopped, we would start putting things together.
We did not plan ahead; we had no other way to communicate other than “draggin’ main, burning cheap gasoline, and finding someone else to do it with.” At sixteen years of age, I was allowed to go into the garage, and use the telephone there to talk with my girlfriends and I was also limited to the amount of time I could spend on the phone, usually about fifteen minutes tops.
My home town, Purcell Oklahoma, has a hill on the north side of town, the name of this hill is “Red Hill.” By most standards it isn’t much of a hill, 250-300’ high at the peak, I climbed it one time on my motorcycle. As far as I know I was the only kid in town to accomplish this feat, and I have never heard of anyone doing anything similar in nature over all these years.
Most folks in my generation were adventurous in nature, nothing like that today. Everything is fairly laid out and in place for today’s generation, and the majority of it doesn’t require nature or the outside in order to accomplish the majority of it. Skateboarding isn’t an adventure, Dungeons and Dragons, Grand Theft Auto. A computer controller and a bag of chips, not much adventure in that.
Red Hill is also where Susie introduced me to the pleasures of young manhood, under a clear sky, loaded with stars, and air thick with the smell of summer. Where we laughed, we cried, we schemed and we dreamed, and we thought of all the world we wanted to see. We “hooked up on Main Street and we slipped off into the night.” No pre-planning or networking in that, that was the way it was done.
I often went to Red Hill and sat on the stone fence there and I would stare off to the east to a horizon that seemed to go on and on, almost forever. I would look in the direction of Boston, or Atlanta, Memphis and Nashville and I would as a young man wonder what it was that was out there and if I would ever see it.
When my relationships went sour, and things did not work out, I would go there, sit down pull out a Marlboro and work it out in my mind. This was my fortress of solitude, Red Hill, and I often spent more than one long afternoon there blowing the cobwebs out of my head.
Not long ago someone sent me a invitation to join Facebook. I of course declined, I don’t have the time to sit around and talk about myself and open up my life to basically what I think are virtual strangers. I do enough of that right here. Facebook for the most part is a straight jacket for people who have nothing better to do than talk about themselves.
Take a minute today to think about it.
Do you want to know that the “girl you idolized in high school, is now a pudgy housewife with four kids, living in Paducah, Kentucky and cleaning up her cats’ hairballs?” How about the great looking, blond headed kid that sat on Red Hill for hours at a time, do you want to know that he is now a balding old coot in Oklahoma and he is glad it is almost the weekend.
It might work for Kathy and her gang, but it surely isn’t my cup of tea.