Categories
Burningbird

Some science coming up

I have several science-based essays I’ve salvaged from Dynamic Earth that I’m going to post. Without their domain, the writings have been cut adrift but they’re still good. Well, ‘good’ is relative – the science discussed in them is still valid.

Going through these, I’ve forgotten how long I’ve been online, and all that I used to do BW – Before Weblogging. Really the only difference between writing to a web site and a weblog is that the latter has more formatting rules, more feedback, and a hell of a lot more stress at times.

I didn’t limit my topics in my pre-weblogging writing, covering everything from book reviews, kites, computer technology, giant squid, pets, hurricanes, and my own personal thoughts and viewpoints on just life in general. I wrote on all topics but religion, thinking that this was too taboo a topic to put online when I didn’t know who was reading me.

(Now I write about religion from time to time. Nothing like weblogging to loosen one’s tongue long enough to get into serious trouble.)

Of course, those who have tolerance to match their deep spiritual beliefs might say that when I’ve written on trees and oceans, programming and sadness, I have been writing about religion.

Categories
Weblogging

With thanks from a lady

Though my own participation has been based on pleas expressed both in anger and sadness, and the circumstances tended to distort the message, I did want to send a quiet thank you to some folk who wrote in response to the issues raised about gender and perceived bias in weblogging. Then I will drop the subject, because I’m not doing it justice.

Riba Rambles wrote on on the original gender-based comments, and Seth Finkelstein wrote about the “lamentations of the women”.

AKMA should appreciate the Biblical notation after he was handed a difficult task, which he fulfilled with great delicacy – finding balance in the recent fooflah. More than that, though, he gave me a great deal of reassurance that the world hadn’t suddenly changed overnight by acknowledging that the introduction of gender was an issue that did deserve some discussion. The silence this last week, justified or not, was perhaps the most difficult event I’ve experienced in weblogging. It has permanently altered my view of this environment. Whether this leads to growth or not, I’m trying to figure out.

However, not all were silent.

Ken Camp also spoke out, and he has a wonderous way with a rant – and I mean that in the most complimentary way:

I will be posting a new sort of stance soon. My take on the blogosphere. And you all can read it or not. You can link or not. You can care or not. You can exercise your digital common sense. You can compliment all the various emporers on their finery. You can stick your head in the sand. But you can’t stop the changes underway.

Oh yeah, things are changing.

And don’t say troll like it’s a bad thing. Yeah you.

I wrote in comments recently that there’s a difference between a flame, and writing from outrage and anger. I think we’ll be seeing more outraged writing from Ken.

It’s hard, though, to maintain outrage here–always some new toy or game, some new political folly or technical wonder or… oh look! Keep the drunk man from falling over!

Mischief to Data had a great title on a related post: Lock Your Doors! Shrieking Banshee Women Invade Weblog Communities! . That’s me: Shrieking Banshee Woman. Too bad I don’t have space for a tagline now, because that would be my new one.

Mischief quoted the comment that started much of this discussion, and I was surprised to read in the post’s comments a person saying:

Actually ghani, upon reading his statement again, I’m unwilling to make a judgement on whether it was justified or not, without seeing some representative samples from the male and female haters.

If the men said “Man, it sucks that you shut it down, do you know an alternative I can use?” and the women said… just use your imagination for that one.

Then he might have a point.

Contrary to popular myth, the condemnation was more evenly divided over the sexes then recent discussions imply. Just some of us made a more tempting target.

It’s like when you play Dodgeball, or Red Rover – you target those you deem the weaker to make your blow seem more significant. What you’ll often find, though, is what you perceive to be weakness is nothing more than quiet strength.

Tracy Kennedy, otherwise known as Netwoman, also responded with a call to be active on her own:

Women should continue to voice their opinions, but why should we do it on our own? Shelley’s right, where are the responses from men in regards to this? Bystanders to sexism. It’s unacceptable. Step up the plate folks! Take responsibility and accountability and SAY something!

Jonas Galvez apologized for not saying something sooner because English is a second language for him. I thought he did okay, myself. He and those who commented in his post.

Jeneane specifically mentioned the fact that no one did answer my questions about the breakdown, and the redirect problems. I also would have been glad to help, and I do know something about DNS.

Finally, my South African brother, Mike Golby, also came out with a response that is wonderfully Golby – graphic and all. But I loved his unrelatedpost on the Jazz Singer even more than his defense. If you haven’t read it, you need to.

If I missed anyone, it was unintentional–I use Technorati to find who is linking to me and sometimes I don’t check it as often as I should. Please let me know and I’ll add a link.

I didn’t thank folks this last week, and perhaps I didn’t need to because this issue is beyond me, the person. So let me thank you, instead, as a woman among many.

Categories
Just Shelley

For Life

First published sometime in 1997, I believe, at the original YASD site.

Today, today, I have reconciled myself to dying. We all die, eventually. I will die … someday, hopefully far into the future. Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I might as well live, and stop being afraid of the inevitability of dying. The funny thing about inevitabilities is that you can’t run from them, hide from them, or push them off. So ignore them, and move on.

Who is this person who’s crawled into my skin? I used to be such a gutsy person who didn’t back away from any challenge. Now I sit in a chair surfing the Net – living vicariously through a wire: a pseudo peeping tom on the world. When I’m not online, I sit in a pub or library or park, listening to other people’s lives. Excuse me, but whatever happened to going out and creating my own? Since when did I become a miser, holding on to each day like it was a bright and shiny copper penny that I couldn’t let go?

Life was meant to go by in a blaze of experiences and events and sharing and caring and things done and places visited. You spend each day freely and with abandon, and you know you’ve lived successfully when you reach the end of your time and realize that your life has passed swiftly, in a blur–a kaleidoscope of memories, rich and colorful and warm.

Today I put on music and I danced around my living room as I used to long ago, way back in a time when I wore flowers in my hair. I danced for the sheer joy of dancing and I connected with that long ago younger daughter that was me and for a moment I was in a time machine in my own mind – a time warp between then and now. I danced not for work and not for exercise and not for socialization and not because I ought to or had to, but for the joy of the act, the love of the music. I danced because I wanted to.

There should be one rule in your life, one absolute: no regrets. Whatever you do or don’t decide, do so with an understanding that you’ve made a choice and don’t look back with regrets. Look forward…always look forward.

Follow your instincts about what’s best and right for yourself. Don’t say, “If I do this, I may regret it later.” That’s not the way to live. You have to grab life, and its experiences, with both hands and hold on for all its worth. It’s a wild ride at times, and a scary one, but you’ll get to where you’re going in the end. You’ll get to where you should be.

For me, I find joy in my writing. But somehow, somewhere, I stopped writing for myself, and started writing for others. I didn’t write what I wanted to say, I wrote what others wanted to hear. That’s not life; that’s just going through the motions.

I once told someone:

I love to write. Writing to me is a shield when I’m hurt and a weapon
when I’m angry. It is friend and lover, and a thief of time. It exposes
me and hides me. It is there in the morning, and there in the evening. Of all the chaos of life, writing is my one constant.

When I’m hurt or I’m afraid of hurting, I write and with my writing
heal or am healed. One in the same.

Take a moment, put on some music, and dance around your living room or your bedroom, or go dance in the street if you want. Or play a guitar, or run through the park, or fly a kite. Or write. For the joy of it. For life.

Categories
Just Shelley

Pleasing the masses

Another one from Dynamic Earth, edited for modern times.

One person somewhere in the Universe will really hate my (new web site design | photograph | writing | haircut | opinion). They’ll hate it with an almost overwhelming passion, and will be filled with a sense of loathing of it, and of me.

One person somewhere in the Universe will really love (my new web site design | photograph | writing | haircut | opinion). They’ll love it almost as much as sex, and more than chocolate, and think me a Goddess. I will be falling over them, as they kiss my feet.

The rest of the Universe will fall somewhere in between. I can live with this.

Categories
Critters

Walking among the dog people part 2

First published in summer, 2002 and moved to the now defunct Dynamic Earth

Yesterday I talked about my walk among the dog people, and my observations of the dogs as they enjoyed the beach, the water, and the company (canine and human).

I talked about the black lab that would bring me her ball to throw and then take it away before I could grasp it. In this process she was inviting me to share her wonder, her special moment, her fun, as we invite others to share ours, in our weblogs and in our lives. I tease the world to laugh with me, to play with me, as this dog teases her owner and willing participants such as myself with her ball.

The Jack Russell barked at the mighty ocean with all the confidence in the world that it could move those waters back and return his friends to him. There are no impossible challenges to a dog, just as there are no impossible challenges to those who are determined on a course that they must and will follow.

The moutain climber climbs the peaks because they are there. The singers sings because the melody must be heard. The writer writes because the words demand to be read. There is a need in our lives to find our unique challenge within each of us, and then meet it. When we are successful, when the waves roll back, then we throw our arms open and embrace the air. And it is fun – the highest peak of the roller coaster.

The Boxer would dash into the water again and again in its quest to capture the stick thrown by its master. Left unchecked the dog would literally drown in its drive to find what was thrown. A simple goal for the dog, but no less intense than the drive that leads us to find cures for illness, the secrets of the Rosetta stone, whether there is life on other planets, the meaning of God, the meaning of Life.

Is it too much of a stretch to call these purposeful and intense actions fun? Perhaps. But if the roller coaster’s intensity is one factor leading to the fun of the ride, than would I be wrong in equating the intensity of purpose and drive to one aspect of the fun of living? Is that a trivialization? Or is it really more of a simplification?

My favorite of the dogs was and will always be the red doberman. That she singled me out on the beach to approach. That she sat beside me. That she leaned into me with such open trust. When we reach out to others, in person, or via the threaded void that is the weblogging and the Internet, we also put a measure of trust in those who receive the message. Will they shy away? Will they reach back? Will real affection result, or is the contact as ephemeral as the medium used to transmit the message.

When I write this, I am very much like that red doberman, except that I’m approaching 2 people, 10 people, 100 people asking them to let me sit beside them at this moment, to lean against them, to share a moment together. And in that moment is companionship and contentment, perhaps the smoothest and most velvet form of fun there is.