eternal life of what I put online, my virtual self. Sort of like
outsourcing my life.
Deciding what is appropriate for where. What to tweet, facebook, blog,
flickr, and to whom. Of course, in the cases where we think we can
control who sees what, friends on facebook, blocked on twitter, public
or private on flickr, we are deluding ourselves. All the calculations
are for naught. Some innocuous update may come back to bite you. I say
picking a healthcare plan, or financial iad package for your kid, or
deciding between a cash balance or traditional pension, or becoming a
rocket scientist, is easier.
But the human urge to connect persists. People can have very real
personas online. Viverant personalities. In a sense, there is nothing
"virtual" about virtaul. It is still our life, still time spent; the
coal burning to provide electricity for the datacenters that are the
"cloud," very much real. As is the techno junk containered to Africa
by the shipful. Oh well.
Long queues at Nina's counter today. I tried to sit it out, but
eventually joined in. I used the gift certificate for the first time.
Sure enough, the barista at the cash register dutifully wrote "$2.31"
on the back.
At first, by the way that she was holding the pen, I thought she was
left-handed, but realized that it was her right hand and elbow that
she was sticking out. I commented, and she responded, tiredly; heard
it before. Something about her mother being left-handed. I shared that
I tied my shoes weird because I had been taught by a lefty. She seemed
to find that mildly amusing.
--
David
www.schons.net
