Coming back to life

I had my conference on Sunday. There were things we should have done differently, but overall, I'm incredibly proud of the program we put together and the energy we generated. I am particularly proud that our plenary was about Environmental Justice and Energy Democracy, and one of our final sessions was about Rare Earth Minerals and the role that plays in our energy transition. (And because I couldn't get enough of that topic, I went into a webinar the day after that talked that issue as well. Please watch, it was awesome and thought provoking.) And I get to check off a box on a life goal list for having also included a session on organizing--and libraries!

I'm coming to my regularly scheduled programming in good conscience. I complain bitterly about how the universe is sometimes set against me, but in this case, I think my timing is working out well. I was healed up enough to limp around in a boot, and while I felt it that day--my weakest point? The calf muscle on the affected leg--I was able to keep up, and emboldened to walk around two days later for my annual physical. (And where do I feel it today? My outer and inner thighs. Walking--who knew?) I'm grateful to my sisters and husband for giving me the time I needed to heal up. 

As promised, I reformatted my phone and computer the next day. The phone was done in less than an hour, and I'm proud of myself for realizing that I could use my power cord to transfer data from my Surface to my phone. (I know, that doesn't sound like much, but when someone asked me to do that a decade ago, I had no idea what they were talking about, and I certainly didn't have the cord.) 

The Surface was another story, and that was in large part because I wanted to physically back up some of my files. I think some people will think that's quaint, but I needed to be sure that all would be well, and I wasn't sure that they wouldn't be lost off of the cloud as I reset the computer. Paranoid? Maybe, but I've lost too much over the years to risk it now with valuable files.

Hours of work, but it was worth it. The computer seems to be running more smoothly now, and it's nice to have so few things on my phone. (But it would be even nicer if I could remove more. Why is Samsung forcing me to keep the browser and store? Yeah, I know why, but still.) I am eagerly awaiting my new keyboard tomorrow--this one is eight years old--and then I'll have, as far as I'm concerned a new machine.

I've gone through all of this to simplify my digital existence and get back to my real life. After spending so much time with this machine the last few weeks, today I ordered four books, with a few more in queue at the next paycheck (not counting the one I just ordered for my niece yesterday). In the last few weeks, I've actually managed to read four books, and in the last month, eight. They were my lifeline when I was lonely, overworked, and uncomfortable.

It would have been very nice, and in some ways more convenient, to have had the internet I remember from ten years ago during that time, but that internet is gone. That internet was monetized out of existence, and it doesn't make sense to romanticize it too much. The people who wrote good things, took pretty pictures, and made engaging videos very quickly wanted an exit strategy that would mean, really, that they wouldn't have to do those things. The blogs and websites--even social media accounts--that I liked were always the bait for something else. I didn't know what it was, but I don't think those bloggers, writers, photographers, videographers, and even commenters knew, either, except that it was something that should "generate income". 

There's a world in which, maybe, that could have worked for some sites and people, but that world wouldn't contain AI-generated slop. Because that has ruined the value proposition of the World Wide Web.

People know this but they don't understand it: the internet is older than I am. But while people were using message boards when I was in grade school and really into email when I was in college, it wasn't until I was a young adult that the internet became something everyone needed to have, and that was because of the Graphical User Interface--that's GUI to you--that is the World Wide Web. Being able to, basically, attach graphics to hyperlinks changed everything. It's not an exaggeration to say that the World Wide Web was the killer app of the internet.

But I find myself groaning when I look at internet art now. Even if it isn't clearly generated by AI, it's quite possibly generated by it, especially if the "production values" are very good. Whenever someone posts a picture these days, I always wonder if it's real. (And have people already started interrogating definitions of reality and authenticity, the way they do "natural" and "artificial" food? I'll sit that inane argument out, thanks.) The whole thing makes me want to engage less and less with the kind of sparkly content that used to be so exciting a decade ago. And that's sad.

I expect to be reading a lot more books. Hopefully I can still find people to talk about them with.

Deb in the City 

Maybe there's no there there

Last year I read The Life-Changing Magic of Cleaning Up by Marie Kondo and it did just that. I tidied my bedroom and the common areas of my home and in the process had to tune into what it was that made me happy and what I wanted more of in my life.

I won’t bore you with those answers—shockingly, it includes more time with my family—but one thing that did not make the list was social media. I had already been worn out by Facebook, but I finally decided that I was going to quietly delete my account and slip away as opposed to making a big deal about it. (Yes, I do still have what I call a shadow account so I can maintain my Facebook page, but I post nothing as a “person” there.) You’re not going to be surprised when I tell you that it felt like a weight off my shoulders, in large part because so many other people have reported the same thing.

My problem with Facebook, in a nutshell, was that it became a hyper-filtered environment that had a limited view of what I wanted to see. I liked that Twitter allowed me to create lists so I could, essentially, create my own filters, and again, this isn’t an original insight. Sadly, Twitter decided that if it was going to take Facebook on, it needed to become Facebook. They turned on filtering and started recommending people that, really, I didn’t want to deal with. Add that to the extremely contentious presidential primary season, and by April I was happy to walk away from that too (and did).

I started looking at everything else, and they seemed even less useful. Pinterest, which used to be a fun place to curate images, is now a billboard filled with ads that also doesn’t trust my judgment about what I want to see; Tumblr, which does seem to have a lot of potential, was impossible for me to figure out and the fact that almost no one I knew was there sucked my motivation to try; and LinkedIn, which I joined before anything else, looks like a bunch of graphics with platitudes—one of the other things I hated about Facebook—and they’re admonishments to reconnect with former colleagues seems unattractively desperate.

It's not fair to call the internet a black hole; black holes aren't hollow

Without social media, what’s left? Blogs! So I spent some time on my list of blogs to follow, researching what I should add and then happily deleting content that wasn’t working for me. It was a little thin, but it reflected my interests more than any social media scroll ever did.

Too bad one of my favorite bloggers, so disgusted by the political circus, quit blogging. And it’s really, genuinely awful that one of the first bloggers I followed (stalked?) needed to be treated for a life-threatening illness and therefore stopped blogging for more than a year. And then there was the blogger who had all kinds of great information about self-publishing and was openly using her posts to build a network but then decided that blogging wasn’t as much of a priority once she landed a traditional publishing contract.

People are allowed to change and I wish all of them well, but those people have been hard to replace. While one of them is, arguably, irreplaceable because of his resume, the others, in theory, aren’t. So why has it been so hard to fill those holes?

Perhaps because I’m not as motivated to look. Sometimes it is just painful to surf the world wide web that Google presents to us. So. Many. Ads. And so many sites trying to lure you into signing up for their newsletter (guys, I want the same thing, but my link is on the left, and I promise I will not use a pop-up to peddle it). It’s enough to make you want to hide in your email...until you get the spam. If I don't get fifteen review requests every day, I don't get any.

There are two tools that have been somewhat useful. The first is, er, those newsletters. There are maybe three or four people or companies I enjoy getting regular updates from, and—for the most part—I feel like I’m getting useful information. But oh how I burn when they try to upsell me! Yes, I might want your next DVD or book—this is how we got to “know” each other in the first place—but why do you think I want to go away on a retreat with you—all I did was buy your DVD!—and why do you think I want to be...A TIDYING CONSULTANT?! Et tu, Marie Kondo?

So the tool that has disappointed me the least might be, of all things, Google Alerts. It’s very nice to find something in my inbox pointing me to the latest article about Kondo or Christina Tosi (have you made her cakes yet? Mmm…), and the worst I have to get through is an occasional library book list or restaurant opening announcement.

I like filters as long as I can create them.

I have a feeling I’m not alone. I’ve been amusing myself with Korean movies on Netflix (but for the love of all things holy, can they please improve their search engine and stop trying to get me to watch things I’ve already seen—on their site?!) and spending time in the gorgeously renovated Boston Public Library. Am I still stressing that I’m not churning out stories quickly enough? Sure—but at least I don’t have to be irritated by the weirdness of the internet at the same time.

If you’re also spending less time online, what are you doing with those hours?