« May 2009 | Main | July 2009 »
June 24, 2009
Realizing How Public the Internet Really Is
This morning, I listened to one of the two free social media webinars that I registered for and advertised to my coworkers. This one was by David Meerman Scott who also spoke at the all-day MarketingProfs Digital Marketing World Conference I attended on April 1.
Five minutes into the webinar, I realized he was giving the same presentation. I tweeted the following:
cminster: listening to @dmscott sm webinar. Same schpiel he gave at MarketingProfs digital marketing conference on April 1. Disappointed #vocus
4 seconds later on my twitter reel, the following popped up:
kevinbehringer @cminster Completely agree. I think I've seen this presentation a few times on a few different webinars
This frightened me, because I had no idea who the guy was (I don't follow him). He found my post because I had used the hashtag #vocus. People attending webinars follow the crowd commentary using these hashtags. I knew about this in theory, but had never seen it in action.
Around 3:30 this afternoon, the following tweet popped up in my account:
dmscott @cminster similar presentation as mprfs sorry
This was so weird to me. Having the presenter of a webinar apologize directly to me? It also startled me, because I'm used to feeling like I'm in a cocoon at my desk, only seeing work, not having random people I've never met talk at me.
I originally sent the above information to my coworkers. I work with an incredible group of talented marketers. Like most of the world, they haven't had time to follow every fad or emerging technology. They're too busy doing their jobs. Plus, we have a sister agency that deals with social media as their core competency.
Right. So I'm sure many people have already experienced how Twitter smashes the walls and creates a sense of intimacy across the interwebs. Lest you think I've found a new way to make best friends with the world, read this WSJ article by Julia Angwin.
Posted by cj at 07:44 PM | Comments (0)
June 21, 2009
Moving Beyond Emotions By Falling into Film
There's nothing that puts life in perspective as beautifully as art.
We remember and learn through narratives in a way that cannot be duplicated by tables, graphs, or rational logic.
And so, the world continues to turn. Despite our best efforts to stop and get off.
I have been the "ideal" Netflix customer for four months. I held onto the same two disks for four months, never watching them, never returning them, and never canceling my membership. Then one day I sent them off in the mail and got The Savages and Lars and The Real Girl in return.
On Friday, I watched Lars and The Real Girl. I'm only sad I didn't see it before attending a random awards ceremony, where the writer of that poignant piece was honored. (Nancy Oliver also wrote for Six Feet Under and writes for True Blood.)
It took a long time, and many splendid reviews, before I could decide that I needed to see a movie about a man and his blow up doll. And I'm glad I did.
Tonight, I saw The Savages. Honestly, I'm not clear what I thought it was. I really had no idea I was consigning myself to watching someone's life go from retirement community to nursing home to death in two hours. It's been awhile since I saw an indie flick, full of freeze frames on empty sets, pacing that feels as slow as real life, and ugly characters who are difficult to like.
I have to say, if I hadn't looked at the Rotten Tomatoes entry, I would never believe anyone calling that film a comedy. Then again, now I know why I put it on my queue to begin with: because I vaguely remembered it as a happy indie. I'm sure many viewers had the same reaction I did; it made me question whether I had spent enough time with my grandma when she was in nursing homes as I could have or should have. It made me remember how lucky I was that Elsie was mostly there towards the end of her life, even if she wasn't the same person she was before her stroke.
[Don't read this is you don't like spoilers], my favorite part of the movie was when the neurotic sister kicked her married lover to the curb. I can understand the pull of a married man, but an ongoing relationship with someone who is not even legally allowed to be completely yours is difficult for me to reconcile in my mind. I cast no judgment on others, but I personally have found some simple rules to live by: if I do anything in my present or future that couldn't be shared with my mom, it's not something I should be doing. Obviously, I can't change the past, but for the present, it's a solid moral line I dare not cross.
In any event, the best thing I can say about the Savages is that it forced me to spend 2 hours not thinking about myself or the Twilight series (which I finished today) or my apathy towards political activism (which I'm sure will dissipate soon), so it served it's purpose well.
Will I ever watch it again? Only if you paid me a lot of money. On the other hand, I could watch Lars and the Real Girl again. In the end, a good movie needs to both speak to an essential truth and be palatable enough for multiple viewings.
Posted by cj at 09:44 PM | Comments (0)
June 20, 2009
the detritus of my mind
These last few weeks have been difficult. I can't place my finger on when it started or why it wont end, but I've been in a funked out place of trauma and incompetence for what seems like forever. Sometimes, it feels like the only person who noticed my shift in moods is my boyfriend. Not that the prevailing winds of my moods should direct the world.
Really, I've been gasping for perspective. I've been trying to remind myself that I'm doing okay: that I'm getting enough done at work, to stop thinking about all the things I could be doing faster if my head was screwed on properly, and to remember that my deliverables have been met.
But just as I started to work my way out of my fear of work, my personal world crashed in around me. I'm shell shocked at the losses. I find it difficult to move beyond profound grief. Facing the cold hard reality of the shifting sands of relationships is petrifying. I thought some things were sacred. I thought blood was a bond that couldn't be broken. I had no idea how tenuous human connections really are.
One thing is for certain: I am determined to stop pushing away the love that is in my life. Though some people choose to live without me, others are very definitely here. And I have to stop fearing the future and embrace the present. There is soul-expanding love in my life and instead of questioning its depth or longevity, I must make myself open to the present presence of this exquisite present.
Posted by cj at 03:26 PM | Comments (0)