I have a conflicted

This whole social networking thing, I’ve been reticent about it. Then on further examination, I acquiesced a bit.

But I have a reticent again.

As you may know, I’ve joined the folks who are using Twitter. Sure, yes, I tweet.

Banal stuff I tweet, I admit. But I enjoy the challenge of 140 characters. Plus it’s fun to see what other’s can cram into such a small space.

Often I read stuff on there makes me sigh and shake my head. Example: a local sports broadcaster takes to Twitter to describe the quality of his bowel movements. A regular man, seems to hit him daily about eleven a.m.

*sigh*

Then there’s some good stuff, too. Local SanFran author Christopher Moore has the best tweets of my follow list, bar none. Example: “Steve Jobs had liver transplant. Glad he finally acknowledged the value of cut and paste.”

So okay, there’s fun stuff out there, it’s not all bad. I rather enjoy tweeting, heck, as you know, I even recently participated in a twitter story writing contest. So I’m on board!

Only, this weekend, I might have hit a wall.

I follow Ann Curry on Twitter. She’s been Tweeting pretty hard about what’s going on in Iran. I personally have tried very hard to keep a distance from all that. It’s horrible, and my heart goes out to the victims and their families, but I have a neurotic worry gene (thanks, Mom) and if I let myself follow what’s happening, I will lose my grip.

So, yeah, I have been reading Ann’s tweets, even though I’m not sure this is the best way for the news to travel, I read them to keep up to speed, a little, on the progress.

That said, on Saturday, Ann tweeted quite a bit about the escalation of the protests in Iran. Scary stuff, here’s some examples:

“Credible source was eyewittness (sic) to pepper spraying of about 100 protestors #iranelection”

“Iran state tv claims explosion at tomb of revered Ayatollah Khomeini. Would incite anger against protesters. Is it true? #iranelection”

“More reports of police using tear gas and water cannons to disperse thousands #iranelection”

Yikes. I was taking all of this in, feeling that familiar fear and dread…and then moved on to read more tweets on the same page by other twitter folks that I follow.

Here’s where my train derailed.

Along with scary stuff from Iran, here’s what else I found on the same page:

“just getting up, still drunk I think.” (from a local journalist for the SF Chronicle and a prolific author)

“Destroyed by dim sum and good friends.” (from the rather successful owner of a small business)

“I’m thinking of something like this for (my second house), so perhaps I’ll go to C&B and see how it looks in person. (furniture item, link redacted).” (from a blogger and editorial writer for one of Seattle’s independent newspapers).

So, look, I’m not following Buffy the Wonder Ditz on Twitter, I have thoughtfully chosen which tweets I see, but still, I was startled by the juxtaposition of the uses of Twitter.

Actually, The Good Man pointed it out as he read over my shoulder. I didn’t even see it. Perhaps I’m so twitterheaded it didn’t look strange.

I think Twitter can be used pretty well as a marketing tool. Heck, when I tweet a link to my blog, I can count on about 10 to 15 extra eyeballs that day. So that’s good, right? Blog traffic is really nice.

But is all this self-focused, self-absorbed social networking really meaningful? (asks the self-focused, self-absorbed blogger)

I don’t know, something changed for me on Saturday. I like Twitter, enjoy using it, but then think…what am I *doing*?!

I don’t have the answers, I’m really just talking it out here. But last week, I was kind of into Twitter and enjoying it. Now, I’m not so sure.

Anyhow…just some pondering for a Monday.

It’s all downhill from here

Happy Summer Solstice! Today, the longest day of the year.

Oh fine. The days start getting shorter. It gets colder. Winter is nigh.

Bah!

Oh, and Happy Father’s Day.

I’m not really cranky, honest!

Call me Jade

This morning, I was listening to the radio, and there was random blather about how the son of David Bowie has a new movie coming out. They discussed how the young fellow has changed his birth name, Zoey Bowie, to the more normal Duncan Jones. (for obvious reasons, they say).

Which led to a conversation about David Bowie’s real name, David Jones, for those who don’t know. He changed it because, at the time, Davy Jones of The Monkees was popular, and so to avoid confusion… (now, in hindsight, could anyone *ever* confuse Davy Jones with David Bowie? I think not.)

Plus, Bowie is a more “sticky” word (as they say in advertising). I mean…you could say, “wow, the music of Jones…” and one might wonder “Quincy? Tom? Norah? Davy?” right? But say Bowie, and you know…ol’ Ziggy Stardust himself. (Total aside…for some reason, Ziggy Stardust is one of the top keyword searches in Google that gets people to my blog…because of one random post where I named checked his glam self. So this oughta really bring ’em around!)

So, as I took this all in, I had a thought…you know, those rock star names work!

John Mellencamp? John Cougar!

Curtis Jackson? 50 Cent!

William Bailey? Axl Rose!

Declan McManus? Elvis Costello!

Patricia Andrejewski? Pat Benatar!

The list goes on. More here.

So then all the cogs and gears of my own mind started working overtime (ignore the smoke).

I need a rock star name.

Sure, those two years of (now defunct) guitar lessons might pay off! My rendition of Red River Valley is *flawless* and I can swing an acoustic axe with the best of the third graders.

Truly. My plain jane name needs a makeover.

So what’s a normal named soul to do? Why take to the internets, of course!

And find and use a Rock Star Name Generator.

I’ll admit, the first suggestion amused me not. Ellyn Carnes? No.

It doesn’t have that “I trash hotel rooms” sound I’m looking for.

So I went again, and there it was.

My rock star name.

Perfect.

Stumped.

Well this kind of sucks.

I went to my random word generator, seeking blog ideas.

And it gives me a word that not only I don’t know, but the Dictionary application on OS X doesn’t know either.

The word is: eyne

Apparently, an archaic word meaning the plural of eye, oft used in poetry.

Or…a spot in France. But I think the word generator means the first definition.

The “complexity” chooser is set to “common”. I wouldn’t call eyne common.

Oh well.

Here we go:

But what do mine eyne see, but the fog of June gloom falling over me.

I can’t seem to buy a sunny day here in the Bay Area. And it’s depressing me. Today is windy and *cold* and, being of the desert, am not amused.

Then I keep reading NewMexiKen’s top lists of books, and find I’ve only read a few.

And then this whole eyne issue.

Not one of my better days….