Social Me, Please

I have been a student of social media since the time of dial up, chat rooms, and "You've got mail".  More recently, since this kid, some of us in college at the time referred to him as "Zuck", created this cool little site just for us, the college student.  Zuck was my first FB friend.... and he was my first 'unfriend' when he changed up stuff on his site.  Interacting with one another, posting, responding, following.  It was 2005 for me, I was hooked. 

Then in 2008, loaded with a college degree in Communications, I discovered a another neato website ~ ya tweeted there. It was a bit odd, because you were limited. For someone like myself, who loves talking and communicating, it was a bit perplexing at first. My first tweet?

cooking turkey and cleaning up after the house flooded out.

8:29 AM - 27 Nov 2008

OK, I admit it, it wasn't a very thought provoking tweet, but I challenge you ~ what was yours?

All but a very few of my 'tweeps', are people that I have never met; not yet at least. I joke, question, follow, and commiserate with them.  There are some really amazing people out there. They don't charge me a thing for the information and jokes they give me. I willingly read what they post, follow along their blogs, and gawk, amazed at some really cool photography that they share. They travel around, see things, and bring me with them virtually. I admit even having a TC on a scientist who is 10,000 miles away ~ he shares the most absolutely exciting articles on psychology and neuroscience ~ the man had me at neurotransmitter.

I have become a wandering nomad in a couple of G+reat communities. Travelling throughout the entire world, my voyeuristic self reads about how a particular 'locals' café was a better stop than the one denoted on the tour from the cruise ship company. Even better, there are amazing candid photos with the article, and now, I am a world traveler. Truly, I can arrive at one of these destinations now and know where I am, having already seen the virtual copy.  It's another layer of tourism that I look to explore.  This place isn't 'dead social media walking', it's alive to those of us who use it and communicate through it.

That same site also gives me some fantastic infographics (I   L O V E  infographics) and great articles that are shared out there on everything from science, tech, psychology, business, marketing and public relations ~ well, ok, those are the ones that I personally like to read. I  L O V E   to read as well.

Some newer sites have sprung up, and I gleefully jump in, knowing that the early adaptor phase is really like a first date. Awkward, sometimes not really able to see the full picture of potential, or the pitfalls of the relationship that is about to occur. Both the user and the platform, sometimes intentionally, other times not, hiding, shy, not quite relaxed and being our 'natural selves'.  I am good with that. The adrenaline rush I get makes up for it, and the exploration of the platform is another layer of learning that I gladly welcome. Just because I use social media doesn't necessarily mean that I am an 'instant gratification' kinda gal.

Keep bringing it, invite away. After all, I am a true communication theorist.  I delight in all venues that allow human beings to bring their own unique perspective to this vast world of ours. The vastness of this world that is made a little bit smaller, a little more human, by social media.

Hello Ello!

They sit, presumably, somewhere in the northwestern corner of the US. In some minds, with a smugness about them, sipping coffee, or maybe a micro-brew, blogging, scouring the net, writing code. They had a small group of ‘inhouse’ folks using this little network, let’s call it Ello. Then the coding gods that they were, brought a beta to mainstream, carrying the mantle of the anti-FB social media site. Fine.


Nothing new here folks, just another social media site some would say. But no, it’s an invite only kinda thing. Ya gotta have a friend that had some kind of connection to be invited. That friend has the opportunity to invite five friends, and their five friends can invite five friends of their own, and so on, and so on (Sorry for sounding like a hair product commercial).


Brilliant! Genius! A great way to create a buzz, a want for something that not everyone can have. Admit it, you want it because not everyone can have it. Think though, for a moment, what else does that invite do? It eliminates a lot of the clutter you already have on other social sites.You can be selective as to who you want to listen to. A bit of ‘other web’ kind of thing going on.


I was fortunate enough to get one of those invites, by a guy who knows a guy, who knows a guy. I gladly signed up, and started poking around. Not that the layout, design, or ‘catch words’ were like anything other, but there was a familiar feel about it. It is a brave new social media, in beta of course. There’s plans for other options and features coming soon. I posted my first piece of ‘noise’, perused the sections, and navigated my way around the site and other user profiles. Pretty cool. A quiet world of chatter in a not so quiet web. Artistic posts, some just out there, others, a bit more mundane, like mine. It’s new. Promising a divergence from ad based social media that’s been out there, collecting whatever information it can in order to hawk P&G products (I like P&G by the way).


Not to my surprise, I had been hearing folks caterwauling about FB selling them out, crying for an opportunity to have another social media outlet, one that was less bizzy and truly social based. Here it was, Ello. After a short while, I see ‘experts’ and others now complaining about their shiny new Ello toy on FACEBOOK.


“I was expecting a bit more. Hope they work out the ‘noise’ thing, because some of it is distracting and meanders.”


“Not impressed. Graphics are ok, kinda weird way of navigating around. Not as good as I thought it would be.”


Wow. Really?


They would have hated Zuck’s first versions of Facebook. Then they would have been unfriending Mark (just like I did at one point) because he was screwing around with the platform. Oh, by the way, that was before the ‘general public’ could access Facebook. Originally, you had to have a college e-mail address in order to access Facebook. My college e-mail address has been inactivate for the past seven years, but I keep it out there for my sign in because, well, I’m nostalgic that way.
I don’t want to forget my first tweet. Something about Thanksgiving dinner and a house ripped apart. No picture or graphics attachment, just a simple statement of what was going on. Yes, I probably tweeted about what I was cooking my family for dinner too. No InstaGram attached pic either, or a geo check-in. Basic. Simple.


If you can’t handle the beta….. oh no, I shouldn’t be so rude. Listen. If you really want an invite to Ello, I still have my five sitting out there. I am being very selective. I’ve done this whole social media thing before. I have an idea of how it might turn out. Hopefully I am wrong, dead wrong.


ORGINALLY PUBLISHED  09/29/14:
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/article/20140929233544-9104988-hello-ello?trk=prof-post

Believe

There's something to be said for believing, actually, a lot of things. 



You can believe in things and people. Sometimes believing is easy, many times, especially as we become jaded and older, it's far more difficult.  I believed in Santa Clause. He was pretty darn punctual with those presents. Showed up every year, just like I was told.  Never saw the jolly old elf, but I certainly believed in him. The thought of Saint Nick made me happy because, well, he was happy (and generous too).  Even when I began to doubt, when the whispers of classmates were too loud to ignore, I wanted to believe. There was a comfort in thinking that someone really took the time to care about, and act upon what I wanted, many times what I needed.


As I have progressed in my life, I have learned that to believe is an act of not just faith, but of courage. You have to possess courage when you believe in something. There's great risk of being hurt, and hurt badly by believing, shattered dreams, a broken heart. If you can't stomach the idea of the pain, it isn't worth believing.


The older I get, the more I realize that I could believe in just about anything, if I set my mind to it. It's a choice. A conscious decision that is made. A heart's hope that something that is held dear would come true. There are so many negative things in this world, sometimes, the only thing that keeps my heart from breaking completely, is that I believe.


I believe in second chances, that people can change (sometimes). I believe that there's got to be something better, that things will work out. I believe that despite all odds, there's a shot at making things right.  I believe that I deserve more, not out of self pity, nor of entitlement. No, because I've already struggled, hurt, bled, cried, paid my dues, in more than one way. I've already experienced the pains of dreams that went unfulfilled. I believe I am ready for that 'break'.


I believe that as long as there are people on this earth there will be hope, love, and an opportunity to make something not good, right. I believe that there is something about to change, a tremendous change, and many will not have seen it coming. I believe in children, animals, a God of my own understanding. I believe that time will tell, that my hurts will heal, that my children will be ok.


I believe that people are put in our lives for a specific reason, that there is a greater plan. I believe that our actions and reactions create our new reality of what was, what is, and what will be.


I believe, that for now, I will continue to believe.
Not because I go blindly, but because, for now, I really want to believe.

The Value and Worth of Social Media

There are two words that permeate the world of social media marketing ~ value and worth. 


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The other day, I was a part of a tweet chat session.  Reading posts, 'listening' to experts in the field of social media, marketing, and sales.  The discussion of SEO, 'measuring value', 'determining worth', it was rampant. As a self professed logophile, I noticed that the words value and worth were being interchanged, almost, well.... overly used at times. My typical self, I began to analyze the use of each of those words.  They are NOT quite the same.

Worth, according to Oxford: An amount of a commodity equivalent to a specified sum of money; Sufficiently good, important, or interesting to justify a specified action; deserving to be treated or regarded in the way specified.

Stick with me.....

Value, according to Oxford: The regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something; The worth of something compared to the price paid or asked for it; A person’s principles or standards of behavior; one’s judgment of what is important in life.

So, they are interchangeable, to a certain extent, each word using the other to describe the other, define the other.  Worth, however, relies more heavily on the monetary sense, value has a that connotation, but to me, it appears to have a deeper sense of intrinsic..... well.... value.

I began to look at previous posts that I had made, posts that others had made, and began to dissect how we were all utilizing these words. Thinking, maybe too long, too hard, too deeply, about what we were all talking about.  One thing was clear, we all valued worth, and thought that value had worth.  What wasn't being answered clearly were two questions: What worth was value? and what value was worth?

As I continue on my quest to dissect social media, understand its value, comprehend its worth, it leaves me questioning how we truly measure our interactions, our relationships, in person and virtually. How it affects and effects (oh, that will be a post for another time) our selves and our lives. How do we measure each?  What does it really mean to each one of us, and where will it lead us in the future of business, of self.

I can guarantee you one thing, SEO isn't gonna solve this one, not completely.

I Can See America from My Back Yard in Boston

The throngs of people weren't there in the suburbs waiting for the train to take them into town. Many of them had already made their way into Boston, or simply never left.  A change of schedule, a day in advance for the Boston Pops performance in tandem with the celebratory fireworks display over the Charles River had been moved to accommodate for mother natures own awesome display of power and grandeur, Hurricane Arthur was heading for the New England region, promising rain and wind to dampen the 4th of July festivities.

Bostonians don't care about weather, nor do they mind an inconvenient change of plans, just let it be known that they will do what they want, and if they have to, will move a national holiday celebration ~ they don't miss stuff like this.  Our country was built on the grit and determination that those in the Northeast exhibit.  Arthur be damned, celebrating our nation's birth was going to happen.


The train made its way through the suburbs, continuing on its routine pathway into the heart of the city, each stop closer, growing crowds of people, finally making their own traverse toward the great banks of the Charles.  The car we were riding in was full. There were couples and gaggles, families and groups of friends, all of them relaying what they planned on doing, where they had decided on going, and what ever came to mind during their very public conversations.  A family, speaking in an Asian dialect scurried into a car.  The children, younger than school age, were speaking in both their parents' native tongue, and then reviewing words, letters, and numbers in English with their parents.
A large group of high school students pushed their way to open seating in the middle of the car. Seated across from one another, they goaded one another with insults, teases and taunts, laughing loudly, apologizing to no one.


An extended family crammed into one corner of the car.  An uncle was explaining where they were going to get off.  One of the school aged children questioned whether they had lost the rest of their party, four or five cousins, a grandparent, and somewhere in the mix was Dad.  "Three stops.  That's what I told them.  They should be ok, and if not, well.... we'll  keep an eye out for them when we get off and make the switch to the Red Line."


Our stop arrived, and we made our way through the underground corridor leading to the Red Line.  The crowds had grown. So many people wearing the colors of our nation's flag.  A number of soon to be spectators had donned face paint or hair dye, as if to confirm the festive atmosphere that we were all about to experience.


"Charles/MGH"..... the voice informed us as the train cars clattered across the Charles River to the subway destination we were all looking for.  The doors opened, and the entire car emptied out onto the platform.  There was no real "where do we go" moment, you just were a part of this living, breathing, moving crowd that took over stairwells, moved through gates, and spilled out onto Storrow Drive.


The further down Storrow Drive we went, the larger, more dense the crowds became.  An entrance made of Jersey barriers and movable gates had been erected to guide people to checkpoints.  Working through the groups, a man wearing an Anonymous group shirt stood by, looking for someone off in the distance. His large frame towering over the crowd that moved around him.  An older gentleman held up his bike, balancing the box he had placed like a basket on the front.  He was replenishing the water bottles in the melting ice, hawking each bottle for a dollar. His hand scribbled note promising ice cold refreshment. 


There was a semblance of a line, a rumor being murmured through the crowd that there was a check point.  Two police officers had pulled aside three young men with backpacks, explaining that they would not be allowed into the venue, and that there had been numerous announcements about NOT bringing in coolers, bags and the like.  The conversation stayed and the wide line of people moved passed them.


Two men discussed the ramifications of having to change their weekend plans together. They had planned on a trip to 'P Town', but the storm had just wreaked all sorts of havoc with their long weekend.  It wasn't worth the trip, cancellations needed to be made.  They turned at one point and informed me that we would all be 'wanded' and that my purse might not make it past the checkpoint without being dumped out.  Two couples to my right were discussing a schooner trip, and how long it takes to get from Boston Harbor to the Hamptons. Chatting about their adult children's educational endeavors, a graduation had just taken place and a job had been had. This day in advance celebration was not an issue. What had become the issue was what to do with the extra day that would now be more 'down time' for them.


We made it in, not to the circle (the area you see on TV), but just behind that line of trees (the one's you see on TV).  You could still see the stage through the trees, but it wasn't really the stage we wanted.  It was the bursts of acrid sulphur shining brightly, shooting up into the air.  The colors, patterns, working in time with the music being played.


After singing the national anthem, everyone standing, surrounded by thousands, we all sat back down, chatted with our company, hummed to music.  A group of four twenty something guys, after lighting up a joint, invited another person who was sitting near them in another group.  A few moments later, there were police asking to speak with them.


The line for ice cream wound down in a long snake-like fashion along the banks of the Charles.  A few hours passed, and then, it happened.  An announcement.  Apparently Mother Nature was ready to unleash a precursor to what Boston was to expect within the next 24 hours.  The fireworks would be moved up, they would begin in a moment.  The crowds of people cheered loudly, happy that they were about to see the pyrotechnic show light up the night sky.  And then, another announcement: "Due to weather conditions, there will not be a 'grand finale' and the Pops will not be able to play the 1812 Overture." The crowd booed. Loudly. If they only knew that the great Tchaikovsky himself detested his own piece.


The fireworks display went off.....people moved, walked about, watching the illumination light up the skyscrapers, the facades of so many buildings on either side of the river.  As the show continued, we began to move toward what would be our 'escape' from the crowds.  Milling about, stopping for a snapshot, a glance of the aerial display, we made our way over to the Boylston Street stop. 


Just moments before entering the train station, lightning flashed above our heads. The taste of electric, intense, we made our way to the station before the throngs who had been occupying the Esplanade were officially evacuated.  Sitting on the ride home, I realized, there was not one walk of life that hadn't been represented there in Boston that evening. There were numerous dialects, from across my country, to across the world, that had converged on the space of green and ponds along the Charles River.  Why, I guess, that I love Boston so much. All of us, together, singing, dancing to the music being performed. Waiting, maybe not so patiently, for the fireworks that were going to go off, just out of sheer determination to celebrate what makes our country great ~ all of us.