Showing posts with label facebook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label facebook. Show all posts

Monday, 12 March 2012

Why Social Media is Good For the Mind



“I need you to read this and tell me what happened,” says my sister, thrusting a copy of Haruki Murakami’s A Wild Sheep Chase into my hands, “I don’t think it made sense. Although it might actually be the middle of three, which would explain it…”

Once Upon a Time I would have balked at this request.

“You want me to deliberately read a series Out Of Order?” I would have shrieked in a dramatic mixture of caps lock and italics, “What kind of MONSTER do you think I AM???!!!11”

On this occasion though, I shrug and acquiesce – not because my instinct did not tell me to read Hear the Wind Sing and Pinball, 1973 first (turns out the book is the last of the set), but because I have become accustomed to reading things backwards.

“But why?” you probably aren’t bothering to shout.

The answer, dear reader, is social networking.

For those who don’t know (people based in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland where the internet is regarded as black magic; and the population of China*), sites like the Facebook and the Twitter work in real time. This means that when you log in you get the most recent messages people have posted and have to work backwards to find out what everyone’s complaining about / laughing at / watching on TV. It’s sort of like being the star of your very own slightly banal detective story.

Almost everyone has had a go at social networking even if they can’t see the point of it (and indeed I realized - as I was contemplating changing to the new Facebook timeline yesterday - that I've been using that site for about seven years) - so it stands to reason this way of taking in information would begin to filter through to other walks of life like some kind of insidious metaphor. It seems only logical that as more people sign up, human perception of time and compulsion to do things in a particular order will break down ever further.

“Whaddya mean, 1, 2, 3?” we will shout at the generation of children born to us in a future where Twitter is implanted into our retinas like a nightmare Charlie Brooker had once, “this isn’t the Stone Age! What’s the matter with 3, 2, RT 2, OMG RT 2, 1?”

In this future, book series are read backwards as standard, government advice suggests Lost only be viewed from the final episode of series eighty seven, and government legislation ensures Monopoly starts with everyone bankrupt and in jail.

It may sound strange and frightening now, but by and large I think all of this is A Good Thing. Reading backwards is great exercise for the brain and helps us empathise with our dyslexic cousins, who read everything out of order all the time and are more creative human beings as a result.

Furthermore, it turns out reading Murakami the wrong way round only makes him more interesting and this is how I shall approach IQ84. To find out how that goes, join me on Twitter… (@periwinklewine)

*this is an hilarious joke at the expense of Chinese governmental restrictions which include a Facebook ban, but actually they have their own versions of these sites so it probably doesn’t apply there at all.

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Spoilers...

Sorry for the silence, I've been doing an awful lot of things. See Confessions of a Jobless Graduate and 12 Books in 12 Months for more specific information.

I do have a couple of posts in the pipeline, and tomorrow I might even have time to type them up and schedule them! But now I've said that, I almost certainly won't do it.

Just to whet your appetite, one is a final 'glad game' about the joys of conflicting advice. A journo recently informed me that by volunteering for so many hyperlocal websites (which I've done partly to build up my portfolio and partly because I think Edinburgh is a bit good and people ought to be told) I have devalued my work. If I don't charge for it then why would anyone ever pay me?

I think there is a fundamental misunderstanding of hyperlocal there, frankly.

The other thing I have to write about because it is pissing me off royally, but not right now because I'll get all worked up and won't be able to sleep, is the fact that Guardian Edinburgh is going to be closed down at the end of May, along with the other hyperlocal sites. I think it's a ridiculous thing to do, and will tell you for why - whether you like it or not.

In the meantime, though, click this cute dragon to 'like' 12 Books in 12 Months on Facebook. I want to get to 200 by the end of May. If you help, I'll reward you with a mystery prize...

Thursday, 14 April 2011

Jelly

On Mother’s Day, my siblings and I returned to Perthshire and gathered around our dear Mama’s feet, to watch Herbie Rides Again and the 2003 remake of Pollyanna.

This wasn’t the plan, per se. It just sort of happened. Mum wasn’t feeling well and there was nothing much on TV, so we all flaked out and watched the aforementioned programming gems.

I mentioned this in passing to Captain Tact who, rather than spending the weekend with his own mater dear, was engaged in selling books to idiots. That’s sort of his wont, these days. Anyway, his reaction to my news was something along the lines of “Polly what now?”

Naturally I was scandalised – surely Pollyanna is a fixed point in our culture? Apparently not. It’s not a very manly book, I suppose.

For anyone else similarly in the dark, Pollyanna is an oppressively cheerful child from literature. She was written by Eleanor H. Porter in 1913, and spends most of her time waging war on unhappiness. Evidence for the case against child labour laws, you might say.

The only thing that stops her terrifying campaign to ensure that everyone in the village is happy ALL the time is someone ‘accidentally’ mowing her down in a car, leaving her paralysed from the waist down. And even then she bounces back, it just takes her a little bit longer than other sad things that have happened to her (including the death of both her parents).

Pollyanna’s MO is centred around ‘the glad game,’ invented by her tirelessly optimistic father (who ironically died tragically young). The basic premise is that in a negative situation, you look for the good side.

Witness an example:



Yeah. She’s like that all the freaking time. If I was Pam Ferris I’d smack her in the mouth.

Her brand of inane happiness would probably get her beaten up if she bandied it about in this day and age. The closest modern equivalent, I suppose, is that person who tells you to, “Smile! It might never happen!” as though it’s socially acceptable to go about your everyday business with a big stupid grin etched onto your face. I must have missed that facebook update. The fact I’m not smiling all the time doesn’t indicate I’m having dark thoughts, I’m probably just thinking about something else.

Having said that, I was trying to think of themes to blog around, and it struck me that the glad game might be a fun one to do. Lots of things make me glad – broccoli soup, amusing graffiti, implausibly bad television...

But as aficionados of the game are no doubt clawing at the screen to point out, listing things that cheer me up is missing the point. You’re supposed to think of something sad, bad or other negative emotion, and then find the upside.

Much more of a challenge. I will see you tomorrow for day one.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

30 Day Song Challenge

The Facebook users amongst you are probably already aware of the 30 Day Song Challenge .

Essentially you post a song a day according to a set of rules set by - three monkeys, if the community profile picture is to be believed. Loads of my friends and acquaintances are doing it, and some were discussing it in the pub the other night. Apparently it's surprisingly difficult.

Anyhoo, I thought I might do it here, because it means I can set up posts in advance, which might come in handy as I struggle to juggle all my many blogs and projects.

Day One is meant to be your favourite song, which is Train in Vain by The Clash.



I'm fairly sure I first got into The Clash at the age of 15. I remember sitting on the floor in the kitchen of my parents' house, with the patio door open and the sun shining in, as I listened to my mum's copy of The Clash: The Singles for the first time. I think it was after an exam, but I'm not sure which one... anyway, from then on it was love.

Saturday, 12 March 2011

My Day


Today I have mostly been trying to persuade people to 'like' 12 Books in 12 Months on Facebook.

I don't really know why, to be honest. I get weekly emails from King Zuckerberg in his gold plated tree house sniping away about the fact that the page use is down and nobody likes me and I'd be as well giving up because I'm never going to go back and finish these books anyway... but I don't really pay much attention to those.

However, the slightly obsessive stat freak within would quite like the number of 'likers' to increase.

In case you don't know what I'm talking about, if you click the button to 'like' a page on Facebook, whenever a link or something is posted on that page it then appears in your stalkerfeed. (Or FB homepage, if you will.) I only update the 12 Books in 12 Months page a couple of times a week, because I don't want to be the annoying spammer who everyone hates. But I think perhaps I ought to up the ante a little bit because apparently there are still quite a few people I am ostensibly friends with who remain completely oblivious to the project.

Obviously the fact that someone 'likes' the page doesn't mean they are planning to interact with it any further than that, say by making suggestions. Still, they might mention it to other people who will, and at least that way word may spread. Which would be quite good.

So, the aim is to get to 100 'likes' by 10pm, and I will plug any pages or projects that these new likers would like me to do. It's now 8.50pm and there are 8 'likes' to go before I hit the target.

Can it be done?

Ask me again in an hour and ten minutes.


Friday, 18 February 2011

The Royal Wedding

So, what's your view on the impending Willikate nuptials? Perhaps you are upset at the prospect of their fancy pants wedding being paid for by our hard earned public money? Or maybe you're just chuffed at the prospect of getting an extra day off this year?

I hadn't thought about it overly much, other than to make slightly disapproving noises that they aren't getting married in Sallies Chapel in St Andrews as per the tradition of couples who meet in the hallowed halls. But I guess Westminster Abbey is a bit better for the number of guests they'll probably have.

Today I thought about it for a couple more minutes, because I got the following message on Facebook.

Hi there,
I am writing a feature on the Royal Wedding for a magazine in Austria. As you studied in St. Andrews I just have one or two questions:
Have you ever met Prince William or Kate Middleton during your studies?
if there is any chance although you didn't take a class with him maybe you have heard of others about the issues I am interested in. I wouldn't even mention your name, it is just to polisdh up the article a little bit:
Do you know if he was a normal student or did he want any special treatment? any funny anecdotes you heard/saw during his time at St. Andrews?
Have you heard of others why he did choose Kate and if they were attracted to each other from the beginning:))) Thanks sooo much

'Buh?' I went.

Do you have ANY notion how many people study at St Andrews every year? I mean, I haven't the faintest idea, but there are a lot. It is a small town, granted, but we don't all hang out together all the time. That pair were in their final year when I started, as well as being 800 million social classes above me. The likelihood of us hanging out in the same places are not high. They don't seem the RockSoc type, frankly.

The best - and indeed only - anecdote I have about William in St Andrews is that a mate of my sister once saw him buying a lottery ticket in Tesco. This is mildly amusing, on account of leading to wild speculation on what someone with an enormous personal fortune might do if they won a couple of million quid on the lottery. Blow it all on hats, maybe. I have also heard through friends of friends that Kate Middleton 'seemed very nice,' which is lovely, but somehow I don't think is the calibre of gossip required.

Good luck, mysterious Austrian journo. Mayhap you sent this message to some worthier targets than I.

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

Vidjo

A friend posted this on Facebook and I felt the need to share.

Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Comedian Makes Child Cry

The article below was written for this site here. You should like it on Facebook, follow it on Twitter, then forget all about it as is your wont.

In other news, at midnight last night I completed a first draft of my first book for 12 Books in 12 Months, and Let's Get Lyrical kicks off in earnest today so there's some chat about long haired American pop group Hanson on my other blog.

The usually optimistic worldview of our great British nation was severely tested today when renowned biped Michael McIntyre made a small child cry in front of a live audience.


The child, aged 9, went on so-called television show Britain’s Got Talent to deliver a spectacularly unfunny comedy routine.


McIntyre reportedly buzzed him out with a string of abuse that included comments such as, “Bet your mother wishes she’d had that abortion now!” and, “I’ve seen funnier war crimes!”


His unkind words prompted a fierce response from heavily medicated co-host David “Jump In My Car” Hasselhoff, who leapt out of his seat and punched McIntyre in the mouth before proclaiming the whimpering child the best darn comedian since Chevy Chase.
All of which happened before said kid had cracked any jokes.


OK, so I’m exaggerating. What actually happened was that McIntyre asked the child who his favourite comedian was, got the response ‘Harry Hill’, and McIntyre buzzed him (the Britain’s Got Talent way of telling you to fuck the fuck off). Hilariously, the child then descended into floods of tears.


Even though this might be the funniest thing McIntyre has ever done, he is now backpedaling furiously to apologise for the joke. Supposedly it’s inappropriate to treat children in this way – as if they were nothing more than tiny adults, I mean. Because we all know the best way to teach kids things is actually to patronize and talk down to them.


If that child were 19 rather than 9, McIntyre’s joke would probably have got a huge laugh. But just because he is quite short and does not yet know his times tables, it’s been labeled as tantamount to abuse. Frankly, if this kid wants to be a stand up, he’s going to have to learn to take a joke - however weak it may be.


He’s also going to need a method of dealing with hecklers that doesn’t involve crying.

Monday, 24 January 2011

Do You Take This Pie...

Those of you who use Facebook will probably be aware of its obsession with targetted advertising, which surely only has limited success. Basically all girls I know are so used to being told about various wedding services (tick tock ladies, if you don't marry soon it might never happen and then where'll you be?) that it doesn't really bother them anymore.

Today, though, FB caught my attention by insisting I have a look at Rubenesque Bridal, "Scotland's only dedicated bridal boutique for the curvaceous woman."

How does it know I'm a size 16+? (Which I'm not, of course, I'm like size... zero. Ahem.)

And, why did it decide as soon as I graduated from university that I'd be desperate to get married ASAP? For a supposedly modern means of communication it takes a very 1950s approach to gender roles.

Actually in fairness, that one might be because I've been 'engaged' to one of my mates on there for about five years, and the bots can't tell the difference between real and fake relationships. Yet. But still, when, where and if I tie the knot is not going to be determined by social networking.

There again, the other thing they keep throwing at me is a free screening of Trainspotting at the Royal Scottish Academy, so maybe they do know me quite well after all. *starts sketching centrepieces*

For other items written by me today, see here for chat about the poetical genius of Sisqo, and here for a mild response to an hysterical article about the British government's gay agenda. I've also conducted a couple of interviews for the Edinburgh Reporter which I am in the process of writing up, and tonight I'll do some more Caligula for 12 Books in 12 Months. Productive.

Sunday, 9 January 2011

Yarn Thief

A fellow writer brought a short story competition to my attention via her blog, so now rather than writing Caligula's Blog for the 12 Books in 12 Months project (which you can now 'like' on facebook, by the way), I have turned my attention to idly bashing out nonsensical flash fiction. I've written three 100 word stories in the past half hour. Not the plan I had, but it might be good in terms of updating here...


“LOVE KNITTING?!” The Facebook sidebar silently screams. “SHOW IT OFF WITH T-SHIRTS, STICKERS AND MUGS!”

Surely the best way to showcase my passion is to be seen about town, needles and wool in hand?

I journey forth, lugging a bag of odds and ends I intend to fashion into a scarf. A ball of dusky orange falls from the pile and rolls slowly down the hill, stopping at the feet of an OAP. She picks it up, waves her thanks, and disappears.

Barely discernable from this distance, her t-shirt reads, “I HEART KNITTING.”

Can’t believe it. Bitch stole my yarn.

Wednesday, 15 September 2010

Pope Visits Edinburgh

“I have a green pen,” Susan Boyle announced today, a mere 24 hours before the papal visit.

These apparently innocent words have thrown event organizers into turmoil, as it is understood that green ink is made out of evil magicks conjured by the literal devil (upon whom the pope does not look too kindly).

Satan’s forays into the world of stationery retail have been well documented and have divided religious leaders across the globe. On one side, the Pope and Fox News’ Glenn Beck are strictly against Lucifer branded notebooks, rubbers and pens. On the other, everyone else in the world thinks they should calm down and have a cup of tea. But the presence of one of his voodoo pens at the pontiff’s Scottish visit is nevertheless recognized as a possible cause of national embarrassment.

“Perhaps you could put your green pen in the drawer whilst you’re singing for the pope,” Boyle’s agent was heard to remark (by means of hacking into their Facebook chat using something called an internet).

“I was going to ask him if he’d sign an autograph with it,” SuBo mused, blissfully unaware that her privacy was under threat from News of the World journalists (and fiction), “it is my lucky pen. But I suppose he is quite old, maybe he won’t be up for it.”

Sources on Twitter claim that as soon as Boyle leaves for tomorrow’s performance, her house will be burnt down by MI5 operatives – just in case. These rumours are unsubstantiated by any real evidence. But they are factual though.

Sunday, 13 June 2010

Robert Pattinson Collects Belfries


In lieu of an interesting photo today, here is an old one featuring a couple of books I inherited from a big library clear out. We had to remove 9 shelves to make room for a spectacularly underused information pod. Totally worth it.

Furthermore, the creator of surprisingly readable Doctor Who blog The Mind Probe has created another internet gem, The R-Patz Factz. This is a bit like the Chuck Norris facts, but more topical as they are about sparkly vampire hunk - or vunk - Robert Pattinson. Follow the blog! Join the Facebook group! It's going to be an internet phenomenon the like of which has never been seen.

Wednesday, 30 December 2009

Bubble and Squeak

Apparently Facebook will deprecate profile boxes in late 2009/early 2010. I don’t know what that will entail. Perhaps the 'book is finally going to become sentient (come on, I can’t be the only one who appreciates the inevitability of this state of affairs) and any time you click on a profile box it will shout abuse at you. Or maybe slap you in the face with a caustic pop-up.

In other news, I managed to completely forget about Edinburgh’s torchlight procession last night, despite several quite large clues (it always happens on or around the 29th of December; my bus – which usually goes up and down the mound - was diverted; and there was an enormous fireworks display). Apparently though I was in the minority as it was record turn-out this year. Which is nice.

And finally, a penny dreadful. Of interest to fans of Victorians, steampunk or unusual names. It's set out like a blog so scroll to the bottom to read part one first.