Recognizing Limitations

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I visited the Blogshares page for this weblog recently, only to find my stock value has gone through the roof again. I have no idea why. However, I gather from the value of my P/E that the sudden high value is artificial and will most likely be adjusted quickly. I believe this means “sell”.

I’m not much into stock markets, even ones that trade in weblog shares. What interested me more about the page is the votes people have cast for the “industries” they feel typifies this weblog. People voted me into the software and weblogs industries, which isn’t surprising because of my technical writing. I was also voted into the photography industry, which pleased me quite a bit. However, the industry vote that surprised me the most, and discomfited me, was being put in among the poetry blogs. What makes this more uncomfortable is that I’m the top valued weblog among the poetry blogs, and this really isn’t right.

My interest in poetry, aside from a few favorite poets and poems, is of recent origin and much of it is due to the excellent introduction to poetry that I’ve received from other webloggers I read. The true poetry weblogs. While it is a fact that I am writing about poetry, I’m not doing so with any real degree of comfort — in my continuing search for self, whatever that self is, I am aware that my education is incomplete in the arts and in the humanities.

When people see Burningbird as a ‘poetry’ weblog, they’re not seeing what a poetry weblog could and should be — they’re only seeing me experiment around with poetry, tentatively at best. The same applies to any discussion I have on literature or philosophy, though I will claim a greater degree of confidence in history, politics, science, and folk literature such as legends and myths. And in technology, I suppose.

Experimenting around with different interests in my weblog is a goodness, but lately, these new interests of mine have led me to be more bold in commenting about philosophy and literature and poetry in other weblogs, and these adventures into unfamiliar territory don’t always work out well. It’s not because my comments haven’t been worthwhile — how does one measure ‘worth’ in a comment? It’s because of the baggage I bring with me, which is an insecurity leading to defensiveness that can lessen the value of my input to the discussions. Though this shows a lack of sophistication on my part, I have been hurt a time or two with the responses, and this only demonstrates that I’m not quite ready for prime time. Or that, perhaps, these discussions aren’t ready for me.

Discussions should be free and easy and to a level that the participants wish. I shouldn’t demand or expect that my words be given the same weight as the words coming from people with many more years of education, thought, and, particularly, interest. All things being equal, I shouldn’t ask all the people to shop in the basement just because I’m not rich enough to move to the upper floors. Yet.

This is an issue we don’t talk about much when we discuss the easy communication enabled by weblogging — discussions of this nature generate cries of ‘elitism’ and ‘snobbery’, when in fact neither really applies. Simply put sometimes people want to have a discussion at their level of understanding. In real life, this is facilitated just by limiting one’s conversation to the group within one’s proximity (a primary reason why many people attend conferences or symposiums, or classes and lectures).

In weblogging, though, the issue becomes more complicated. We can’t limit the people who read our writings or who participate in the discussions. If we were to look for a ‘rule of level of discourse’, then I would say that the weblogger who wrote the original essay sets the tone; it is then up to the people who aren’t at that level to determine if they can add to the discussion, and to be philosophical if their inputs are ignored or rebuffed.

There is a companionship to this interlinked community we weave, but there is also a tyranny to it. A true tyranny of the commons. This can only be managed by having enough respect for our own unique contributions to know that we can’t contribute equally everywhere. This does’t mean we shouldn’t contribute — that’s how we all learn, and that’s how we all grow. We just need to be aware, no I need to be aware, that my words are not me — their worth is not my worth. I must keep in mind that rejection of my words is not rejection of me. Or if it is, then the rejection reflects more negatively on the person doing the rejecting, then myself.

Of course, there is a cost to this freedom of intellectual discourse: each voice that falls silent leaves the conversation that much less diverse. Enough voices fall silent, and the discussion becomes just a reflection, like a beam of light bounced about in a room of mirrors.

And, I have just one other note to make in regards to this topic…


Being an American does not mean I live in fast food outlets, drink only Starbuck’s coffee, watch only “Real TV”, have an American flag tattooed on my butt, listen to breasty-boppers, think that spam in a can is real gourmet food, get my news from Fox, drive an SUV bigger than the QE2, only watch Spielberg movies, only read comic books, and only believe God is looking out for us because we are the Chosen People. So next time you throw Bush in my face as a defining argument, for no other reason then I am an American and have to live with him as President, know that I’ll take your email address and register it at every major porn web site that I can find.

And then I’ll submit it to every conservative American political organization within these 50 U-ni-ted States.

Can I get an “Amen” brothers and sisters?



Jade Bookends

There is a great Center of Learning far away in a country whose name cannot be pronounced. It is a simple place made of simple materials, but it provides comfortable shelter for those who study there.

However, not all that the Center holds is plain, for it possesses a beautiful set of bookends made out of the finest jade. They are a light gold in color: made of the finest mutton fat jade, and carved into intricate village scenes. The detail in the carving is so clear that looking at them, you would expect that the people and the sheep and the birds depicted would take breath from one moment to the next. When the lights in the room are on, the jade glows as if it has its own internal illumination.

The bookends were a gift given by a grateful student five hundred years ago, and rumor had it they were carved at least five hundred years before that. They held a place of honor in the Center Library, sitting on a shelf made of crystal and brass. All in all, this shelf and the bookends stood out greatly amidst all the wooden shelves and the books with their slightly dusty and muted but still colorful bindings. Though the elders eschewed emotions such as pride, they did ensure that all important visitors to the Center were shown into the Library at least once, so they could behold the wonder of the jade bookends.

One day, one of the Neophytes was in the Library studying, sitting at a table quite close to the crystal shelf. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the First Master enter the room and with resolute determination, approach the shelf and pull the bookend on the right slightly to the front and then turn it slightly inwards. When finished, the bookend was no longer faced in the same direction as its mate.

Curious, and taught that one should question actions that seem incomprehensible, the Neophyte approached him, asking, “First Master, I noticed that you pulled one of the jade bookends out and around so it’s no longer aligned with its mate. May I ask you the purpose of this action?”

The First Master, still young and robust and somewhat famous throughout the Center for having a charismatic personality and fiery spirt, laughed and clapped the Neophyte on the shoulder.

“I pull the jade bookend out every day at this time, young learner, in order to celebrate the spirit of chaos”.

He opened his arms wide and slowly turned in a circle, as if to encompass all within his grasp, his rich woolen robes making faint sweeping sounds on the stone floor as he moved.

“It is from chaos that we learn, and it is from chaos that we seek new directions and find new paths. When you enter a forest that hasn’t been tamed, do you not see the disarray of the trees and the plants? Doesn’t it make you yearn to explore its depths? Without chaos, we wouldn’t have mystery, and there would be little new to explore because all would be the same as all else.”

“Look you, now, at the bookends”, he said, pointing back at the shelf. “Do they not now stand out by the very nature of their discontinuity? Doesn’t your eye now see that which was lost in its day by day sameness? Doesn’t this act of chaos provide fresh insight, and a new perspective?”

The Neophyte looked and found that First Master was right: the bookends did stand out more; catching and holding eyes long since used to their beauty. And she marveled at how the light, coming from new directions, showed nuances in the carving the Neophyte had not seen before. It was almost like looking at them the first time, and experiencing that first jolt of delight at their beauty.

The Neophyte thanked the First Master most sincerely for his wisdom, and returned to her seat to contemplate the bookends and the lessons they taught.

As she was gazing at them, Second Master entered the room, and she also walked up to the shelf. But where First Master pulled the jade bookends out of alignment, Second Master carefully put the bookends back into their original positions, pushed hard up against the books, and facing rigidly forward. They were as precise as soldiers on a battlefield, or pearls in a finely matched necklace.

As Second Master polished the bookends with the ends of her sleeve, the Neophyte, puzzled anew because this action contradicted First Master’s, hurried over to her side.

“Second Master,” she asked. “Why did you just carefully align the jade bookends? After all, doesn’t the fact that the bookends weren’t in the same position, add a bit of mystery? Doesn’t their previous state of disarray make you curious as to how they got that way? Isn’t some of the bookends’ beauty lost when they are rigidly aligned?”

Second Master gave the Neophyte a gentle smile, and the Neophyte basked in the warmth of her regard.

“Every day at this time, I come to the Library and straighten the bookends to their proper position; to restore harmony to both the shelf and the room. After all, it is from harmony that we grow and enrich ourselves. ”

She gestured to the window that overlooked the kitchen garden. “When you see a carefully tended garden with flowers, or fruit, or the good green vegetables we love, do you not see that the hand of order is necessary if we are survive long enough to achieve true enlightenment?”

“Look you, young daughter, at the shelf. Doesn’t it now reflect the inner calmness we seek in order to better know ourselves? Don’t the bookends now blend with the shelf and the books and become something more by being part of an ordered whole? And aren’t the bookshelves more secure in their proper positions?”

The Neophyte did look and could see the wisdom of Second Master’s philosophy. When the bookends were returned to their original order, they balanced beautifully with the books and the shelf, and it was harmonious. In addition, she could see the benefits of using the bookends properly, because they did now look much more secure.

She thanked Second Master most profoundly, and returned to her seat. But she could not return to her studies because she was sorely confused.

She could agree with First Master about the beauty resulting from the disarray caused by moving the bookends out of alignment. She could see the strengths of chaos, because it made the familiar less so, and made you want to explore, and discover and above all, learn.

However, the Neophyte also agreed with the Second Master, about the need for order. Without that order, she could see now that the jade bookends were precarious in their position and could have–horrors!– fallen off the shelf and been damaged. Without harmony and order, there is a risk of destruction.

But how to reconcile these two philosophies was beyond the Neophytes limited learning, and her confusion increased the more she thought about the paradox. It was with relief that she saw the Grand Master enter the room. If anyone could find the path between these two conflicting views, it was the most ancient and revered of the Center’s scholars.

The Grand Master walked slowly, and used a cane to steady steps grown uneven with extreme age. It was said by some in the Center that the Grand Master had been there as long as the jade bookends, and while the bookends remained, so would the Grand Master.

The Neophyte approached the ancient person with diffidence, bowing low before taking the Master’s side as they moved slowly across the room, matching the speed of her steps in deference to the age of the other.

“Grand Master, I beg your pardon for intruding, but I’m perplexed by conflicting philosophies and need your guidance.”

“Ask on, child”, the Grand Master answered, the sound soft with a hint of humor along with the age in the voice.

“Well, First Master said that it is from chaos that we grow; that we need chaos to see the beauty of that which becomes too familiar. Without chaos, there is no need to explore and without exploration, we do not learn.”

The Grand Master replied, “First Master is very wise for his age, and a credit to this Center. He is right. We do need chaos, for without chaos there would be no need to reach beyond ourselves, to search out new paths, or find new discoveries. All knowledge has at its root, a small kernel of chaos.”

The Neophyte acknowledge the words, but frowned, more confused than ever. “But Grand Master, Second Master said that we must seek order among the chaos; for it is from order that we achieve the harmony with which to enrich ourselves. Without order, we would wonder about acting without purpose, perhaps even destructively so.”

The Grand Master continued walking, occasionally thumping the end of the walking stick on the ground, the sound echoing slightly in the huge room.

“The Second Master is rich with knowledge and her spiritual and mental growth over time has been a delight to behold. Her words to you demonstrate this, because we do need order to discover harmony, and it is from harmony that we become stronger, better people. We cannot reach beyond ourselves, while standing in the midst of shifting sands.”

By this time they, Neophyte was frustrated, as well as confused and, speaking rapidly and even a bit loudly, she exclaimed, “But Grand Master, how can we embrace both chaos and order?”

Thrusting an agitated finger at the bookends on the bookshelf, which they had drawn near, the Neophyte said, “First Master moves the jade bookends out of alignment to introduce chaos, while Second Master moves them back into alignment to introduce order. But the bookends can’t be both chaotic and ordered!”

As the Neophyte was speaking, the Grand Master was pulling a book down from the shelf, replacing it with one pulled from a deep pocket.

“Jade bookends?” the Master asked.

Just Shelley

Race for the Cure

An estimated 39,800 women will die from breast cancer in the United States in 2003. It is second only to lung cancer as a cause of cancer death among all women, and is the leading cause of cancer death in women ages 40-59, which so happens to be my age group.

In pink rose I wrote about an organization that provides free breast exams and mammograms, as part of an effort to reach out to women who don’t have medical insurance. This effort is funded, in part, by the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. Not only does this organization give all women a fighting chance against breast cancer, it does so with dignity — something that HMOs could learn from.

Today I signed up for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation’s Race for the Cure in June. Pink’s not normally my color, but I’ll make an exception for a good cause.


Press Release – for immediate distribution

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

St. Louis, Mo. Burningbird completed its first international transaction this week, with the sale of the domain to an undisclosed overseas company. Acting as agent for the Bird, Malcolm Baker, otherwise known in financial circles as Baker’s Dozin’, was heard to say, “Well, that was fun. Time for a beer or two.” The Bird is quietly counting her freshly gotten gains in a vault in an unknown location and declined to give a comment other than to say that the beer is on her.

(Thanks, Malcolm!)


RDF: Binary XML

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Tim Bray has had a couple of essays on RDF, including an offer of a domain,, to someone who invents an RDF tool he would like to use. I wonder if he likes poetry? I wonder if I’m interested in yet another domain?

Tim’s pushback isn’t against RDF, which he seems to like. His pushback centers on the serialization technique for RDF — RDF/XML.

He writes:


RDF has ignored what I consider to be the central lesson of the World Wide Web, the “View Source” lesson. The way the Web grew was, somebody pointed their browser at a URI, were impressed by what they saw, wondered “How’d they do that?”, hit View Source, and figured it out by trial and error.

This hasn’t happened and can’t happen with RDF, for two reasons. First of all, the killer app that would make you want to View Source hasn’t arrived. Second, if it had, nobody could possibly figure out what the source was trying to tell them. I don’t know how to fix the no-killer-apps problem, but I’m pretty sure it’s not worth trying until we fix the uglified-syntax problem.

It’s not surprising that there isn’t a killer app for RDF — though the specification has been around a long time, it’s also been in committee and under development almost the entire time. Now that we’re finally heading into what should be a stable RDF specification, I think we’ll start to see more and more applications such as MIT’s DSpace, RDF Gateway, Siderean Software’s Seamark, Plugged In’s Tucana KnowledgeStore, Mozilla and other applications that are based in some part on RDF.

As for the syntax being unreadable, which he reiterates today (“RDF/XML syntax, blecch”), Tim makes the statement that the concept of “View Source” is essential for any web-based specification or application to succeed. He writes:


The Web grew because people could generate it by hand, and did.

By this I assume he means that a person inexperienced with the technology can learn about it by viewing the source, as people learned about web page creation through viewing HTML.

I have to disagree with Tim on this. Sure, View Source is how people learned to create web pages, or to manually create simple repetitive XML such as that found in RSS files — but the concept falters when you look at the back-end mechanics that have made the Web truly viable. There is no “View Source” for Perl/CGI, or JSP, or ASP, or PHP pages. There is no “View Source” for the code for the Apache web server, or the protocols, or the browsers.

The web page is only one part of the web — the user interface. So much of the web is either compiled code, or text that requires training and experience in order to read and understand.

Did I learn HTML from View Source? Yup. However, when I work with JSP, I rarely view the generated Java classes because even though they support the application they aren’t meaningful for me. I do know Java, so I can look at them –it’s just that I have better things to do with my time. Did I learn how to code JSP by looking at existing JSP pages? Sometimes, but much of the knowledge came from looking at the documentation.

In addition, is the data in a Berkely DB or MySql database in a format easily read or written manually? Or do we use applications to access the data?

We need to stop treating RDF/XML as yet another variation of tags similiar to HTML and start looking at it as a form of virtual binary code — machine generated and consumed, but output in plain text. Until we do, we’ll never get to the point of creating that killer app that Tim wants.

My advice to Tim is reap the benefits of RDF from the applications I’m sure he’ll be inundated with, and treat the serialization format as another incomprehensible machine language that just happens to use angle brackets.

(Thanks to Sam for link to Tim’s articles. Also see Danny’s take.)