Sharp teeth, soft furr, appetite like a horse. Spooky, a golden retriever, born August 18 2011, is now part of this family.
He’s learning, I’m learning, and it aint all fun but totally worth it.
An island among many is still an island
jennyK on Facebook, a reflection.
Seems to me, the larger the ocean of web gets, the farther apart the islands of community drift.
The more places there are to visit, the less time we have for each place we find. Spindly bridges are built to connect isolated places of paradise, somewhere that could be utopia, to the crowded cold and strictly paved parking lots they call “Like”.
Why do we crowd in cities that, in the best case scenario, will connect us with those we may form friendships with, and in worst case, alienate us from those who truly care and those who have things to say that might make a difference.
Why do we need to be “liked” to matter?
Why do we need to be “friends” with people we don’t know, and wouldn’t want to meet, wouldn’t write an email to, or call on the phone? Is that not the kind of “friends” that crowd your Facebook friend list? Honestly?
Why do we need some enormous community machine to tell us we are worth something?
Because what happens if noone has the time, or enough incentive to click on your needy like request, if noone has the time to look at your uploaded image? Do you feel compelled to “share”, “share”, and “share” again, until you feel confirmed as being truly “Liked”?
Facebook is not human. Facebook friends are not real friends.
Your total “Like” count does NOT make you better, prettier, funnier, more popular, or in truth any more likeable.
So why do we fall into that trap?
Facebook is a tool but do we know how to use it? I think not. Sometimes I feel that Facebook is a monster, a disservice to humanity. Maybe that’s a bit harsh but here is how I see it:
Facebook makes us less, not more. It may be that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The whole, in the case of Facebook, may be great and vast, but it sure as hell isn’t remotely similar to the individual human beings its made up of. They disappear in the many.
My opinion on social networks change monthly so this blog is always tagged for editing. It will never be done, just like Facebooks policies.
Looking for needles
Navigating the online – A reflection.
By jenny K Brennan
I look for needles in arrays of…
Was there ever a pattern?
Did I have it all queued correctly at one point, or was that only what I was told?
When creating the bookmark, the to-do list, the reminder, the play list.
Pixilated troops shove me.
Toward tables of hasty content
Irritated, frustrated, powerless, cleverly manipulated.
Voluntarily bending over.
I negotiate untaught patterns,
While sidestepping road signs,
Obscuring whatever view there might have been.
They block my avatar from posting correctly.
You shout “Find your way!”
But you second guess me,
Say you believe in me,
And ten thousand others,
Just as unique as me.
How lucky must I not be?
You annoy me.
You irritate me.
You advice me to be what I would never be.
Banners, directions, arrows, commands
You block my view but insist on intruding.
For my sake?
I don’t think so.
I don’t remember…
Cluttered avenues, Nested paths, numbered maps.
No road in sight.
Spiders inspect streams; analyze virtually everywhere I’ve been.
For my well-being?
I don’t think so
Bugs. Everywhere bugs.
I see no life
Words, everywhere words.
I see no plot
Where is the synopsis, the cover letter, the correct format, the author bio?
I don’t think so
What is the difference between a dummy and an idiot?
Reflection that has nothing to do with correct definitions. Honestly, it’s a rant. And a pointless one at that. 😀
By jenny K Brennan
As far s dictionaries go , here are some definitions:
Definition of “dummy” found at: Oxford Dictionaries Online
noun (plural dummies)
1 a model or replica of a human being:a waxwork dummy
a figure used for displaying or fitting clothes:a tailor’s dummy
a ventriloquist’s doll.
2 an object designed to resemble and serve as a substitute for the real or usual one:tests using stuffed owls and wooden dummies[as modifier] :a dummy torpedo
British a rubber or plastic teat for a baby to suck on.
A prototype or mock-up, especially of a book or the layout of a page.
a blank round of ammunition.
[as modifier] Grammardenoting a word that has no semantic content but is used to maintain grammatical structure:a dummy subject as in ‘it is’ or ‘there are’
3 (chiefly in rugby and soccer) a feigned pass or kick intended to deceive an opponent.
4 informal , chiefly North American a stupid person.
5 Bridgethe declarer’s partner, whose cards are exposed on the table after the opening lead and played by the declarer.
Bridgethe exposed hand of the declarer’s partner.
an imaginary fourth player in whist:[as modifier] :dummy whist
Definition of “idiot” found at: Oxford Dictionaries Online
a stupid person.
archaic a person of low intelligence.
Ok, with that out of the way. Here is my take on it.
A dummy can learn. If they couldn’t, then why would there be so many “for dummies” books out there?
Dummies are aware of their own dummy status and will happily admit being one.
An idiot learns only in very small steps, and only after making serious mistakes.
Idiots are rarely ready to admit to and embrace the idiot status, because if they did, they would turn into dummies.
So what are you? A dummy or an idiot.
the social idiot / writing dummy.
On the grill
A bit of fun prose inspired by other fun prose. A bit of weirdness to ponder.
By Jenny K Brennan
This is a page of constant confusion.
In case you haven’t noticed I never quite know what I’m doing.
but hey, it’s a space evolving,a mutation or two is part of the problem solving.
Perhaps it will some day give me a nominal absolution.
For past sins and current atrocities where I bite off heads.
and Kick them with a solid soccer agility I’ve practiced.
With friend as well as foe.
Oh “humbug”, you squeal in huffy indignation as you bounce, once, then twice and land on top a hotbed of coals.,.
“Why are you so cruel, you maggoty stew of unpredictable emotion?”
You stare blankly, tilted to one side, no doubt it’s dizzying to be skewed, skewered, placed on a grill.
But I have no empathy for sizzling meat, in a way it always makes me ill.
I turn from your bobbin, throbbing sobbing part removed.
But as staring turns boiling but nonetheless so frank next to the hot spicy jumbo dog.
I start to snicker, to giggle, to convulse in despair-like hysterics.
But what can I do but excuse my actions and rinse out my gum with bleach.
Sorry I bit off the top of your being but please let me turn you to releave you from seeing.
Perhaps I could add a little bit of tomato, zucchini, a pinch of paprika.
To cover the burning hair reek.
I have insulted you plenty I’m sure but tasty you will be with a side-dish of mutilated cabbage I know.
Let me get back to my website of constant confusion.
I’ll leave you to simmer as I give this poem its attribution.
Yes, I admit.
this was totally inspired by one of my favorite stories on Protagonize This Tragic Infection ” (by SeeThomasHowl) on Protagonize, a creative writing community.
Wonderful collaborative work, funny as hell, skillfully written by several different protagonize authors. Absolutely fantastic creation.