Category: Social Media

I have work to do, trying to pull a lot of pieces together into some semblance of a balanced and comprehensive document on HTML5, RDFa, Microdata, et al, but first, I need decompression time from an excess of social media this last week. I don’t know how all of you can manage the various weblog/mailing list/IRC/Twitter et al lives. I personally feel as if my brain has been ripped out through my eyeballs by sadistic chipmunks.

I have been waiting to see if other metadata use cases would be discussed in the WhatWG mailing list before writing any more reviews, points, or counter-points. Since the HTML5 editor, Ian Hickson, seems to have moved on to new things, I think we can assume whatever remaining use cases will either get folded into some other effort, or will be just forgotten.

In addition, I’ve also been playing with the new HTML5 Microdata proposal, too, though the underlying processing rules for generating RDF triples has been changing. Again, though, since Ian has moved on to adding vCard, and vEvent, and various other “microdata formats” to the HTML5 spec, we can assume that the RDF aspect of the document is stable. For the moment.

In the meantime, Google has rolled out use of RDFa, and though this act does not make the earth quake, it does make things in the semantic metadata world more interesting. Yes, even if Google used its own vocabulary. The Google announcement was followed soon after by a new document by Shane McCarron of the RDFa-in-XHTML working group, that provides an approach to using RDFa and HTML4 together.

There was a flurry of noise about the Google announcement everywhere, which was to be expected. Shane’s proposal also came under review, though without the Google numbers. There was some discussion on the HTML WG mailing list, the RDFa Public mailing list, and the RDFa-in-XHTML mailing list on the new proposal, but none on the WhatWG mailing list. However, a new objection arose to RDFa and RDF in general arose on the WhatWG list: link rot and its impact on RDFa, which also spread to the RDFa-in-XHTML list.

Now, I’ll be frank in that this one just didn’t hit me as a critical concern. Even after the discussion on the WhatWG mailing list, I still think that concerns about link rot are a weak objection to RDF/RDFa. After all, isn’t RDF older than some of the WhatWG members? Regardless, it’s been around long enough to know that if we were going to have problems with link rot, they would have surfaced and hit us in the face by now. But any weakness, perceived or otherwise, seems to generate a great deal of animated discussion in the WhatWG group mailing list.

There’s also a new twist on this discussion, for me at least, in that I also read the archives for the WhatWG IRC, as the discussion was taking place. You can sometimes get a lot more insight into the collective mind of the WhatWG group reading the IRC archives than you can the mailing list. My concern was that this new objection to RDFa would be pounced on by WhatWG members, and sure, enough, after both Manu Sporney and Dan Brickley provided extremely reasonable answers how link rot, if it occurred, could be fixed, the following popped up on the IRC:

Philip: gets an impression from the “Link rot is not dangerous” topic that namespace URIs are quite a fragile foundation
Philip: so they suggest building other structures on top of that, like caching and redirecting and hardcoding override lists and reminding people not to accidentally let their domains expire and making local subclasses
hsivonen: Philip: it seems to be that believing in Follow your Nose and believing in Link Rot not being dangerous are contradictory beliefs but you can pick either one and argue coherently
Philip: and I suppose it makes me wonder instead whether it’d be a good reason to not use that foundation at all
Philip: (though I don’t know what other foundations would be better)

To me, the general drift of this thread leads me back to my, yes stubbornly held belief, that “RDF/RDFa does not have to justify itself”. In other words, rather than question what is, or is not, in the HTML5 specification—a valid topic for the WhatWG—we get sidetracked into having to defend RDFa and, ultimately, RDF. I’m just not going to go there, because RDF is, and it ain’t going away, and this is true regardless of what happens with HTML5. So why are we talking about these things in the WhatWG mailing list?

I jumped back into the WhatWG email list thread after reading the IRC thread, hoping to cut the hombres off at the pass, but it was too late: the more we defended, the more weight was given to this “new” problem with RDF (which is humorous, if you think on it, because the HTML5 Microdata proposal makes use of the same RDF URIs).

Following the mailing list entries (which I received whether I wanted to continue or not as I was now cc’d directly in all responses) in addition to the IRC entries, is like experiencing double vision, except in the one email list thread, all is sweetness and light, and the other IRC list, anything but. The problem with IRC, and the reason I detest it so much, is that people write first and possibly think about it later. There is little “uh oh, this is public” filtering going on. There’s also a group-think mentality that can develop in IRC channels, especially those that attract people with very similar viewpoints. The WhatWG IRC entries demonstrate evidence of group think, in that there seems to be a shared, expressed disdain several of the WhatWG members have for many of us (generally and specifically)—which makes the later, polite chit chat particularly unwelcome.

Yes, following along with the WhatWG IRC is that much more pleasant when you suddenly find yourself the subject of current discussion, as our old friend Last Week in HTML5 has noted several times in the past, and about me yesterday. Of course, MLW’s story title was also unpleasant to read: no working group for middle aged women. There was something about that title, following on the IRC comments, that left me with a feeling I’d rather go for a root canal than deal directly with with the WhatWG again.

This little saga wasn’t restricted to just IRC, mailing lists, and weblogs, it’s also hit Twitter, too. Did you expect otherwise? But my adventures in social media this last week didn’t end there: I also attempted to attend an HTML WG meeting last Thursday using Skype and IRC, but didn’t know the procedure one follows as regards to making request via IRC in order to speak during the teleconference. The technology also ended up being wonky for me and the only time I knew I was heard was when someone asked, “Who said, ‘Oh, this is ridiculous’?”

Didn’t matter anyway, because Ian Hickson, the sole and only HTML5 editor, does not attend the HTML WG teleconferences. I gather most of these meetings end up with the attendees playing a game of “What did Ian mean?” Evidently, from what others have said, Ian has stated that he finds these meetings to be a waste of his time. Of course, that’s only hearsay. Probably from Twitter.

The experiences this week just demonstrate that all of the whizzy technology doesn’t a bit of good, if you have groups of people interacting who don’t respect each other. To me, it is apparent that several WhatWG members don’t respect the RDFa folks, as they’ve continued on today, in IRC of course, dismissing Shane’s hard work with barely a glance. Not all of the folks. Both Henri, and Philip are pretty good about saying whatever they say on the IRC directly to you, in comments, email or mailing list (though my impression from both is that they don’t have a high opinion of RDF/RDFa, either). Others, however, are neither that direct, nor that helpful in their commentary.

I’m not going to pretend that the feeling isn’t mutual. After all, I wrote the first “offending” Twitter message. And I’ve been critical of HTML5, and WhatWG process (and members) here and elsewhere. Frankly, I don’t regret any of it, and if that puts into the category of “doesn’t play well with other children”, I’d rather be there than among those who are polite when communicating with you directly, and rip you a new one when your back is turned.

Luckily, I don’t officially represent the RDF or RDFa communities, and I can freely express my opinions, here and elsewhere. I know that Dan and Manu and others still want to work with the WhatWG folks, and more power to them. But I’ve since unsubscribed from the WhatWG email list, though I hesitate to stop reading the IRC, as this is about the only place where you can really see what’s happening with the HTML5 effort.

I’m also going to cut drastically back on all of this social media and do my thing in my space, because by the end of the week, all I had to show for all of the frantic activity, this networked communication with my fellow seekers of specification truth, this bright and shiny new way of togetherness, was bits of writing littered about all over the place—both by me, and about me—and a really bad mood.

I’ve now used Twitter seriously for a month or two. I’ve enjoyed chatting with friends, and experiencing an application that brings genuine enjoyment to people I like, and admire. I can also now see the utility of the tool, especially for those who don’t communicate frequently online, as it gives us a way to keep in touch and stay informed. But in the last week, I’ve grown less interested in using the application.

One reason for my growing lack of enthusiasm for Twitter is posts disappearing—a relatively frequent event that has happened to a lot of people this week. Given how taxed the application is, problems of this nature are not surprising. What is surprising, though, is how indifferent most people seemed to be about the whole thing. Perhaps I’m old fashioned but one fact I’ve learned over the years in developing applications is that the data is sacrosanct. That the loss of “tweets” is no big thing to folks tells me that a) the underlying application has problems more profound then just being able to access the service, and b) that people don’t really seem to value what they post on the service. That last one is particularly confusing: if the people don’t value what they post, then why spend so much time using the tool?

Another reason I’m thinking of using it less is that I can’t keep up with the posts. By Twitter standards, I’m practically a loner, but I find the amount of news and information to be overwhelming. Before this week, if I wanted to catch up with specific people, I would just go to their Twitter page. However, with Twitter dropping posts, I’m most likely going to miss half of what they said, anyway.

Then there’s the whole “mean” thing. I guess I’m “mean” or sarcastic with too many of my postings. The problem is, you can easily write upbeat, positive, and wonderful things within 140 characters, but the same can not be said about criticism. Not all of us have mastered the art of Twitter snark.

None of this would matter, though, if it weren’t for my lack of comfort with Twitter. I cannot get over that feeling of being the person at the party who drinks too much and says the wrong thing at the wrong time; or puts on the lamp shade and dances around wearing nothing but socks and strategically placed jello shots. Frankly, I don’t think everyone is cut out for Twitter.

Remember the scene in the movie Pretty Woman, when Edward Lewis (played by Richard Gere) takes Vivian (played by Julia Robertson) to the Opera? Just before the curtain goes up, Edward tells Vivian, People’s reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic; they either love it or they hate it. If they love it, they will always love it. If they don’t, they may learn to appreciate it, but it will never become part of their soul. Well, I hated Twitter when I first saw it.

f I had known Sitepoint would be hiring I may have held back from telling the lead designer that he’s full of bull. He was full of bull, though, with his exhortation to XHTML users to grow up. Still, another opportunity lost.

There is no room in this economy for the critic. At least, not unless one is already employed. The wind is blowing towards sweetness and light. Desperately blowing, caught up in the maelstrom of fear and uncertainty.

What should I do? Continue to criticize, until I can no longer afford my web space? Or shut up, and hope that someone safely employed takes the time to respond? I guess I pick my battles. Perhaps only criticize those who can’t do me any good, or have no power.

Fah, I sneer at my own words.

Dave Rogers:

I’m somewhat chagrined to note that I’ve imbibed the Facebook Kool-Aid™. What has tipped the balance for me is the iPhone application, and the fact that many of my “meat-space” friends are on Facebook. If you’re a regular reader and are also on Facebook, look me up as David Michael Rogers. (I was playing games with Google when I created my account there more than a year ago. I’m the top hit as “Dave Rogers” on the Big G, but I wanted a lower profile on FB. If you were looking for me on Google, you’d be inclined to think I’d have the same name on FB. Or something. Anyway…)

It’s also damn convenient to post a link to an article on Facebook, and upload pictures from the iPhone, both of which I’ve been doing with some frequency. The downside is, I’m less inclined to do so here because of it.

Is this you, Dave?

I was a little surprised to read of Dave’s new enthusiasm for Facebook. Surprised and a little disappointed, because Facebook, unlike other social networking sites, prohibits access to member pages unless you, yourself, are a member, and I canceled my account months ago.

A person would have to be fairly dense not to realize that so much of discussions that once took place in weblogs now occurs elsewhere: Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, Friendfeed…the wave has moved on.

I have been putting tentative toes into both Twitter and Friendfeed, but I don’t find the activity to be terribly comfortable. I don’t think I have the gift of gay repartee, and am afraid I come across as rather dull—like a person going to a party in Silicon Valley and spending the entire time talking about RDF. However, I will keep dabbling my toes. Perhaps someday I will progress to that person who talks about HTML5 at the same parties.

Then there are those, such as Robert Scoble, who seemingly suffer at the opposite end of the social networking spectrum— following thousands and thousands and being followed by thousands and thousands in return. Such an existence, to me, would be nothing more than a constant state of noise, none of which would have any meaning in and of itself. When would a person have time for self?

A friend gave me a book, Solitude: A Return to Self, by Anthony Storr. It was first published in 1988. How fascinating it would be to see this book updated to modern times, incorporating the internet and the social networks that surround us. Storr does seem to have predicted the direction these networks would take, though.

Contemporary Western culture makes the peace of solitude difficult to attain […] Indeed, noise is so ubiquitous that many people evidently feel uncomfortable in its absense. Hence the menace of ‘Muzak’ has invaded shops, hotels, aircraft, and even elevators. Some car drivers describe driving as relaxing, simply because they are alone and temporarily unavailable to others. But the popularity of car radios and cassette players attests the widespread desire for constant auditory input; and the invention of the car telephone has ensured that drivers who install them are never out of touch to those who want to talk to them.

Nowadays we have the internet, always accessible via iPhone or other handheld device. We are never alone, never out of touch. Comforting on a dark, country road with our gas tanks hovering near empty, but what about the search for self?

Removing oneself voluntarily from one’s habitual environment promotes self-understanding and contact with those inner depths of being which elude one in the hurly-burly of day-to-day life. In the ordinary way, our sense of identity depends on interaction both with the physical world and other people. My study, lined with books, reflects my interests, confirms my identify as a writer, and reinforces my sense of what kind of person I consider myself to be. My relationships with my family, with colleagues, friends, and less intimate aquaintenances, define me as a person who holds certain views, and who may be expected to behave in ways which are predictable.

But I may come to feel that such habitually defining factors are also limiting. Suppose that I become dissatisfied with my habitual self, or feel that there are areas of experience or self-understanding which I cannot reach. One way to exploring these is to remove myself from present surroundings and see what emerges. This is not without dangers. Any form of new organization or integration within the mind has to be preceded by some degree of disorganization. No one can tell, until he has experienced it, whether or not this necessary disruption of former patterns will be succeeded by something better.

The desire for solitude as a means of escape from the pressure of ordinary life and as a way of renewal is vividly demonstrated by Admiral Bryd’s account of manning an advanced weather base in the Antarctic during the winter of 1934. He insisted on doing this alone. He admits the desire for this experience was not primarily the wish to make meteorological observations, although these constituted the ostensible reason for his solitary vigil.

Aside from the meteorological and auroral work, I had no important purpose. There was nothing of the sort. Nothing whatever, except one man’s desire to know that kind of experience to the full, to be by himself for a while and to taste peace and quiet and solitude long enough to find out how good they really are.

 

Today, Admiral Byrd would be expected to have a MySpace page, post frequently to Twitter, and publish photos to Flickr. Not to do so, would mark him as unsocial, at best, a Luddite at worst. Of course, as the new interview with Clay Shirky would suggest, the technology is not a problem, we only need to establish the right filters.

So, the real question is, how do we design filters that let us find our way through this particular abundance of information? And, you know, my answer to that question has been: the only group that can catalog everything is everybody. One of the reasons you see this enormous move towards social filters, as with Digg, as with del.icio.us, as with Google Reader, in a way, is simply that the scale of the problem has exceeded what professional catalogers can do. But, you know, you never hear twenty-year-olds talking about information overload because they understand the filters they’re given. You only hear, you know, forty- and fifty-year-olds taking about it, sixty-year-olds talking about because we grew up in the world of card catalogs and TV Guide. And now, all the filters we’re used to are broken and we’d like to blame it on the environment instead of admitting that we’re just, you know, we just don’t understand what’s going on.

Admiral Byrd was 46 when he staffed the meteorological base, and almost died of carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty stove. To survive, he would have to turn off his heat, sitting alone in the dark and the cold for hours at a time, but still sending in reports while trying not to convey how desperate his situation was to prevent a dangerous mid-winter rescue. He would later write that he never regretted the experience, because it taught him appreciation of the “sheer beauty and miracle of being alive”.

My own need for solitude fits somewhere between Robert Scoble and Admiral Byrd.