Six inches. Six inches is all they needed to move over to the left to let me have enough space to make a desperately needed right turn and set me trundling merrily on home toward the leftover chili that was (I’m certain) eagerly awaiting my patronage. I had just finished an hour-long workout at the gym after a gloomy Monday at work, and I just wanted to go home. Chili. Water. Sitting. Six inches.

The occupant – I won’t mention age or gender – sat blissfully unaware of the world outside, concentrating instead on something incredibly interesting on their cellphone. At times like this I try and dissect my anger, to attempt to put reasoning behind my feelings and determine if they are justified or not. I quickly determined in this case that they were, namely because I always make sure the people behind me have room to turn if the road permits it. This got me thinking about why I always make the effort to be aware of my surroundings, accommodate people as best I can, and generally try not to be a total idiot or a jackass.

I think it stems from an incident when I was very young. To be frank, I can’t remember how old I was or where the event took place. However, I distinctly recall being in a very crowded environment (possibly a mall or Wal-Mart) bumbling around in front of people who were trying to get from point A to point B when my dad grabbed me by my shoulders, spun me around, and very loudly and succinctly declared “PAY ATTENTION”.

This always stuck with me, and I think the world would be a better place if more people remembered that direction. I spend a significant portion of my mental capabilities in paying attention to the world around me, and making sure that I help out when I can or at the very least avoid being an obstacle. I try and bring this into all of my activities, whether it’s checking behind me to see if I need to hold the door for someone entering the locker room at the gym, planning, designing, and coding my projects so that people after me will be able to handle them, or (yes) making sure that the person behind me who desperately wants to get home after a tiring day of drudgery has room to turn.

The typical mode of human thought is: I am all. I am the most important thing. Others should be courteous to me. It takes effort to look outside yourself and see if there is something you can do to make life just a bit easier for someone else, which is probably why most people don’t do it. It’s infuriatingly simple to do, especially considering that you don’t have to go out of your way for it – you’re already going to stand at the printer for 20 minutes while your 700 page report prints; why not let the poor chap behind you with five copies go first?

Take a little extra time and mentally remove yourself from the picture in favor of examining your actions from the point of others – specifically, the inconvenience you’re probably causing them. With any luck, you might end up behind someone who ticks the same way you do and you’ll make it home five minutes early.

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me (even vaguely) that my life has changed substantially within the last year or so. I had never considered myself unhappy; I’ve been fortunate enough to have fantastic friends throughout the years, a supportive and loving (if somewhat eccentric) family, the blessing of a keen intellect, a stable upbringing, financial common sense, etc. etc. The list continues on to the point that I start to become vapid and lose the humility I strive so carefully to cultivate.

That being said, I was unhappy… whether I knew it or not. I spent most of my college years in a relationship that everyone but myself knew was going nowhere. There were fights, there were good times, there was ambivalence – the details are unimportant. I knew what an ideal relationship should be, and this wasn’t it. I felt like a hopeless romantic, and was teetering on the point of coming to terms with a reality in which love is just another imperfect facet of a flawed existence.

I’m rambling here. I want to describe my wedding day.

Fast forward to 2008. Relationship has been on the rocks and is finally over. I’m working a job I see going nowhere but can’t leave because I absolutely love the family of friends I’ve developed there. One in particular. Brenda and I had worked together for roughly two years, becoming very close friends. Best friends. More than friends. Everyone but us knew we were destined to be together in the type of relationship that makes other people’s teeth rot from the cuteness – the same people who, of course, knew my previous relationship was heading to the landfill.

The series of events that led to the day I am laboriously attempting to even try to describe are legion – saved some day for our children and grandchildren. On September 1^st, 2008 at roughly 12:15ish AM I proposed to Brenda after a wonderful party with all of our friends at the townhouse I lived in at the time. A little over a year later, on October 17^th, 2009… we were married. Let me describe that day:

Like most important events in our all too brief lives, our wedding day arrived at once much too quickly and after what seemed an eternity of planning. Flowers had been ordered, food prepared, expensive and uncomfortable garments leased for ridiculous prices, friends and family briefed, cameras readied, cakes baked, rehearsal dinners consumed, and money spent, money spent, money spent. We were frugal, but also keenly aware that we only intended to do this once. It wasn’t going to be big, it wasn’t going to be lavish, but it was going to be ours.

The day started oddly. I had spent the night in the guest bedroom because of the strange idea of waking up next to my imminent wife-to-be and languidly saying “Good morning, dear… shall we get married today?” A good friend of ours who would be an usher had stayed the evening on the couch after he and I had consumed a nontrivial amount of wine (beer in his case), recalling old times, weird co-workers, and general philosophy. I awoke to the sound of Brenda knocking on the door, telling me she loved me, and that she would see me in a little while.

Our friend, Eric, went off to run some pre-event errands while I bathed and groomed hurriedly in an attempt to make to time get my car washed so I could pick Brenda up in it at the end of the day. I went to Auto Magic where the salesman on duty tried to sell me the full package. I waved him off with a grin and said “I’m in a bit of a hurry… getting married today. She won’t care what the inside looks like. Probably won’t care what the outside looks like either.” I pulled on through and spent the next 30 minutes contemplating the buying decisions of the owners of the cars that rolled through the wash through the large windows inside, out of the cold. The day was overcast and windy, but not insurmountably so. I thought about the past, the road – sometimes rocky – that Brenda and I had traveled and reflected on how lucky I felt to be standing here, fidgeting while I waited for my car to be made presentable for the most important day of my life.

I drove to the church, which had been the subject of much discussion in the planning phase. It was not our home church but one that we held only loose associations with, largely to do with their college student ministry and our involvement therein. Entering in through the main doors I stared up into the space of the atrium and, much like the night we made the decision to have our wedding here, banished all thought of this day of days being held anywhere else. The church proper was beautiful, a modern testament to the love of people for God and his blessings in return. And what the reception area had in Gothic architectural appeal, the sanctuary matched in the classical wonder of its stained glass, stone, and wood facades.

Much of the next few hours until immediately before the ceremony is a blur. Brenda and her entourage were getting ready in the bridal suite located below the sanctuary, while I spent a brief period of time pouring myself into a tux and then relaxing in the downstairs lounge. Relatives came and went, jokes were made in the vein of “It’s not too late to back out now.. ha ha!”, stories were shared, and we generally attempted to keep the nerves and boredom from consuming us. There was ping pong. Some pictures were taken. And then the time came. I and four of my closest friends were standing behind the side door to the sanctuary, ears straining to hear if the processional tune had been struck up. Brian, our minister, looked around to us and said “Here we go.”

I only remember clearly two items after that. The first was Brenda, walking down the isle on the arm of our friend Kyle… grinning at me. She had purposefully kept her dress a secret, and the amazing beauty of it – of her – was well worth the wait. White strapless, with burgundy floral workings up the bodice, completed with the perfectly arranged bouquet of orange calla lilies. Second, I remember our kiss. It wasn’t unique or even particularly memorable in itself, but I remember understanding that this marks the beginning of what will hopefully be a very, very long journey together.

And then we’re running down the spiral stairs to the bridal suite, stopping to stare at each other for a moment, kiss, hug, breathe… and now back up. Pictures must be taken! The government document that allows us to get married (I’m still angry about that whole pretense) must be signed! Hugs must be given! Congratulations received! We cut the pictures short because we just didn’t care anymore; we wanted to see our friends, talk with the family, eat our freaking cake we paid for.

The cake was fantastic. So was the food – Qdoba catered in. I don’t remember much of it in detail except a profound irony that we had paid for all of this food and that I really wasn’t hungry at all, and that we wouldn’t be able to eat the leftovers because we would be in Chicago on our honeymoon. A bouquet was thrown at some people, and I flung a garter belt at some suspiciously eager male peers – a product of the thankfully bygone practice of needing proof that the marriage has been consummated.

We talked. People ate. People left. Our parents gathered up the ridiculous amount of gifts we had received, to be dropped by our house at a later time. I pulled the gleaming Mustang around, we got in the car, and left. I remember holding hands on the way home. We always do that when we drive, but I took particular note of it now. We laughed at the absurdity of the frenetic activity of the day, all so we could come home to a house we already lived in and prove to the world what we already had long known in our own hearts. I’ve forgotten a lot of the little details, but the end result is the same. I had married my best friend that day.

So, some months back we bought a house. As you may imagine, such a decision came at the end of a lot of debate and discussion… and an even longer searching period.

Brenda and I had been engaged for six months when we began discussing our impending apartment situation. By sheer luck our leases would be coming up at the same time at the end of July. The decision needed to be made as to if we would find an apartment together or plunge headlong into the search for our first home. Some of the defining factors in our debate were:

• We needed at least a three bedroom apartment, because we couldn’t fit all of our crap into anything smaller.

• A three bedroom apartment in our area would range anywhere from $850 – $1200 a month.

• Traditional 30 year loan rates were bouncing around between 3.5% – 5%.

• We had a sizable bit of savings to put down as a payment, thus significantly lessening our potential loan.

• Given the loan rates and money available to put down, a monthly house payment would range from $700 - $950.

We made the decision to buy a house. Or at least to look for one. And we picked a helluva time to do it. As history will reflect, the housing market at this time was (and still largely is) a complete buyer’s market. Foreclosures, short sales, and all-around good deals abounded. This proved to be a double-edged sword, however.

It provided a huge number of possibilities, but at the same time became a daunting search tasks. As we sat down with our realtor to browse through the listings that matched our criteria, we were bewildered to find over 300 potential homes. And the hunt was on.

We went “shopping” two or three times a week for a month and a half, spending part of our time filtering through the search results and physically visiting those houses we felt were most promising. We wanted a large kitchen, as we love to cook. We wanted a big back yard with lots of space, because we love to garden and grow things. Three bedrooms, two baths, a garage for two cars. Those were our goals.

The best part of the entire experience (in my opinion) was getting to go through these different homes and make inferences about the people who lived there, currently or in the past. You quickly start to pick up on little quirks and modifications, shortcomings and repairs that define the house as being more than just a collection of materials to keep the rain and cold out. People inhabited these places, and parts of their personalities and behaviors color the surroundings. Some were fools, having a foreclosed house that still contained the 60-inch plasma TVs, satellite dishes, and expensive furniture that were more important than keeping their home. Some were quaint, expressing unimpressive but satisfied existences. Some were simply… odd, containing bathrooms barely large enough to stand in, stumps in the middle of their concrete patios, or (in one case) a set of train tracks running through the back yard.

Ironically, when we finally found what would shortly become our first home, it only partially matched the “must-have” requirements we had set forth. Its kitchen was not as large as what we had wanted. Its backyard had little useable space, trading open area for a beautifully constructed and finished deck. Its three bedrooms were noticeably smaller than what other houses had boasted. No single facet of it was impressive overmuch.

But there was something about it, standing in the living room with the sunlight shining through the unique five window arrangement. There was a peace about the place that was welcoming. It was not overlarge but had open space which felt relaxing. For reasons I still cannot accurately describe, this house removed all thoughts of living anywhere else. This would be our home.

In summary, here are some of the important things we learned:

• Much like love, when you find the house for you… you’ll know it. Having some prerequisites helps narrow down the pool, but once you walk into the living room: you’ll know.

• Pay attention to the details. Things that seem minor (like a sticky door) aren’t insurmountable by any means, but they are things you will have to deal with at some point. Just make note.

• Enjoy the house hunt! You most likely won’t get to do it again for a long time (if ever) and it provides you with the rare entertainment factor of glimpsing into the private lives of random people.

• Find a good realtor, preferably someone you can find personal recommendations for or that you know personally.

• In general, look at all the angles, weigh your options, and make the decision that’s best for you.

As I sit here on the eve of February, it occurs to me that I haven’t written a post or any sort of update for this site since… er… the end of September. I have not been dead. I am, in fact, quite alive and have been enjoying life to its fullest. Enough so that any thought of slowing down and cataloging the experiences has been the furthest things from my mind. In retrospect, I believe this will have worked out to my advantage as the lens of time will allow me to better distill and describe the events of the recent past. Things have changed so dramatically for me since mid-July that I can barely believe where I am now, while at the same time wondering how I ever survived any other way.

A lot has happened in the last six months or so, and I haven’t documented hardly any of it. Things have wound significantly after the first of the year, and I now have the time (and inclination) to reflect on all that has gone on. Getting married, the honeymoon, buying a home, owning a home, job changes, websites, projects, goals, friends, parties, families… the list goes on.

I’m going to spend the next few weeks taking the time to write down these events here, on this site. The purpose of this site has changed greatly over time. It is, in many ways, a reflection of how I have changed over time, which I find perfectly fitting and right. It started as a way to get a job and has become over time a journal of thoughts. Stay tuned for more.

I’ve been struggling recently with several things regarding my career / web presence over the past months. I’ve done a lot of study on finding a niche and have performed a lot of introspection regarding what I would like to do with my time. I have concluded the following:

• I dislike writing in general. I only like to write about things that I feel passionate for and have in-depth experience and knowledge of.
• Most of the things that I am passionate about and have experience in have already been written about thousands of times over.
• I dislike most of the people in my industry. I think many of them are very pretentious and show this in their commentaries and writings. An exception to this is Karj.
• If I do not contribute something to the web, then I will feel like a failure. It needs to be something personal, something mine. I believe it is important to the purpose of the web (and for my own sanity) that I add to it.
• Since I dislike writing and much of what I am good at has been covered over and over, I become mired in apathy toward producing any sort of content.

So… here I am again. I’ve decided to stab out in a direction that is entertaining for me, encompasses one of my life passions, and something that I feel I can place a personal mark on. I’m going to test drive and review indie games.

For those of you unacquainted with what an “indie” game is… it basically means that it isn’t produced by one of the mainstream conglomerates, like Electronic Arts, Microsoft, Sega, Nintendo, etc. You can liken it to indie movie production or the indie music scene, the story is the same: the little guys making their own way by kicking ass and taking names. The indie game sphere has exploded in just the last few years and there are tons of solo gaming projects being undertaken. Some are in it for the money, some are pure experimentation, many are written in their parents’ basement. These are my people, and I think I can give some objective and useful reviews.

So, for starters I’m going to try and install/download/play online one indie game every week or so (caveat: or so) and write the reviews on this site. If all goes well, I may end up migrating to a dedicated domain.

Feels good to have a plan.

Changes

First, the updates. My wife-to-be and I have purchased a house and moved in. I’ve really grown to understand the limitless value of family and friends in our preparations for the move, and then in the move itself. Several friends of mine from high school days have recently got married, and I’m reminded of how fast my wedding day is approaching. We’ve had nothing but support and help from heaped upon us as we try and deal with all of these busy events simultaneously.

On the note of weddings, it’s been interesting for me to observe the odd paradox that exists over the wedding ceremony and the marriage. So much emphasis is placed on the wedding day that couples have an unrealistic set of goals for what a successful event should be. The quantities of money spent on that single day are staggering in some cases, and we have resolved to stick with a budget and focus on the meaning of the day instead of the superficiality of it. Conversely, we as a society seem to view the actual marriage as more of a convenient merging of bank accounts and properties, instead of the joining of two people into a commitment of lifelong companionship – the substance with which civilization and the family unit it built upon. I cannot express the depth of how thankful I am to be blessed with someone like Brenda to fill that role, and have vowed that come what may I will not fall into the trappings of the dark side of the American Dream.

With the expenses and responsibilities associated with the wedding, home ownership, and planning for a future family… I’ve started to really evaluate my career path and goals for the future. My freelancing work has been very sparse lately because I haven’t had much time to devote to finding and pursuing leads. My current job hasn’t been quite what I had hoped it would be, but I felt I needed to take it to fill in the gaps and pay the bills. Some new opportunities have presented themselves, and I’m exploring those to see where they may lead.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where my niche may lie. I’d love to make a living blogging about what I love, but I have a hard time determining exactly what that would be. To make matters worse, I don’t really enjoy writing that much… but I can write extensively on things I’m interested in. World of Warcraft, gardening, game reviews, cooking… but these are all things that have been done, and done over and over again. I’m encouraging Brenda to start working on a sewing blog, as it seems to be something she’d love to devote herself to do full time.

The web is at an interesting crossroads, with the odd ideals of XHTML fading away and the semantic focus of HTML5 on the way. I’m skeptical though, because the track record of technologies and their implementation and support by major browsers has been hit-and-miss. The web is moving toward an understanding of context that it hasn’t had before – the ability for algorithms and queries to understand not only a set of key terms, but how those terms relate to the whole of the content they are presented in. Ideally, this will produce a more reactive set of capabilities that allow for more responsive searches and finding of information. HTML5 and CSS3 are fantastic in their capabilities… if we can ever get them all available for public consumption.

Google is poised to enter the world of the operating system, to insert itself in direct competition with Microsoft and Apple. Microsoft recently acquired Yahoo and will be providing search services to that franchise in an effort to build their defenses again the impending Google tide. There are a lot of major players in the game going forward, and it will be interesting to see how Microsoft, Apple, Google, Yahoo, Adobe, and Mozilla transform in the future. Looking back, I’m amazed we have such technologies as Gmail, Google Voice, Air, Flex, ASP.NET, Spotlight, Firefox, and the iPhone. What will the next few years bring?

Pointers

I thought I’d write down some advice from things that I am attempting to do myself. Some guidelines for going forward, if you will. There’s no way to know what tomorrow will bring, but there’s no sense in not making the most of what you have for the future.

Be a good steward

This applies to everything. Everything. What we have right now is a gift, and it’s our responsibility to take what we’re given and do the most with it. Financially, emotionally, physically, relationally… everything. Set a goal for what you have, either sustainability or growth. This is especially true given current economic situations.

Be on the lookout

Always be perceptive to advantages. Either in your career, for your family, or for others. Alert friends to things that may help them in their jobs or at home. Make investments that will pay off for your household in the long run. Stop focusing on this moment exclusively and look around the bend…

Appreciate

… but don’t forget to enjoy right now. All the life changes I’ve experienced lately have helped me to remember that time marches on, and at some point we are all parted from each other. Take the extra time and spend it with your friends and your family. Start a small garden or planter and revel in the growth that occurs. Take an evening and sit outside and feel the cool air and ponder the sky. This is life, and it is good.

Be positive

This is tough for me, because I think people who tout this phrase are generally clueless about the truths of life. Yet, I can’t think of a more concise way to put it. Despair does no good, and cynicism clouds reason. Don’t be a fool or encourage naiveté, but stay open to better views.

Keep your head up.

Zeldman recently redesigned his website. His site has never been over-the-top, it’s always had a large focus on his content and writing, with the bare minimums everywhere else – always appealing, never obnoxious. So, I went there with an expectation of reserved greatness. What I saw left me… nonplussed. There wasn’t anything wrong with it per se, it just lacked… something. Zeldman was touting it as back to basics, but I received it as moving toward mundane.

And then I noticed the comments. Dozens of people with the typical trollish statements of “Wow! This is awesome! Thanks!” and just as many responding with quips of “Simple and easy to read” and praises for its minimalistic nature. More still dropped in some line showing their devotion to Mr. Zeldman by referencing that they owned his books or that they’ve “loved everything you’ve done.” It hit me: I don’t like this. Jeffrey Zeldman, scion of all that is good in web design and content presentation has made something that is, even despite my subjectivity toward his previous work, really not very good. I was amazed, and here were all these members of my peer group praising the work – largely it seemed because of who had done it and not what had been done.

We see work that has been done, work that we appreciate for its innovation, its aesthetics, its rock-solid professionalism, and we inscribe that in our minds and hold its creator(s) up as a source of inspiration. But eventually we grow in our own skills, trends change, and we discover that we don’t have to blindly go with what we’ve been told is good. Eventually through our perseverance and striving to become better at what we do, we achieve a place among our peers where our judgments can become more objective and our opinions worth something. We move from staring with starry-eyes up at a gleaming figure to being able to look across and share a handshake. And eventually we move higher, and find our next role model to guide us on our climb to improvement.

I’m not Jeff Zeldman. I’m nowhere near as successful as he is, and I know that he has more experience in almost every facet of our shared profession. But I think I’ve reached a point in my career where I can start looking elsewhere for my inspiration, and working to blaze my own trail forward.

I’m the happy owner of a modest library of books that span the gamut from sci-fi fantasy to reference tomes to game manuals to religious works. They aren’t categorized in any form other than an arbitrary one that makes sense to me. Some of them I haven’t read in years, and may never read again; some I haven’t read at all. Yet, their sheer weight of presence in my home is inspiring – the collected thoughts of hundreds of writers, teachers, philosophers, and artists. They take up a lot of space, in the form of three large bookcases dedicated mostly to their storage and display. Some are aged, their pages stained or torn, their bindings coming apart. They can’t be searched or have their content manipulated. They simply exist as a package, a small capsule of knowledge or collection of stories.

I was listening recently to NPR on my morning drive to work, when a story came on about a business that produces specialized printing stations designed for book publication. The printers themselves, while no small technological feat, weren’t really what caught my interest in the story. The whole goal of the installation of these modular printers was to give the general public access to the hundreds of thousands of books available in their digital network. In addition, anyone who had their own books or writings in the proper file format could stroll up to one of these devices, upload their data, and have a printed, bound, and fresh copy of their own writings in a matter of minutes.

Think about this a moment: we live in a world where everyone has some form of mobile digital device. E-books can be downloaded to PDAs or cellphones. Audio books exist in every file format known to man and there exists a very small segment of our population that doesn’t have access to some form of media player device, whether it be personal or through some public use. There’s even a little piece of hardware dedicated to electronic reading, produced and sold by the largest online book source and retailer in existence. Why would anyone in their right mind be striving to give people the ability to print books at their leisure when they could just as easily skim one on their iPhones?

When you read, you automatically form an intimate connection with the medium in which you are reading. The more personal the subject matter and the more interesting it is to you, the deeper that connection can become. Yet, because of the nature of our digital tools – the Web, networked services, content providers – the intimacy that we would normally form is inhibited by the very generalized applicability that make those services and devices useful.

Let’s go back to my library with its motley collection of Terry Pratchett novels, Dreamweaver reference guides, and Eyewitness Handbooks. If you were to thumb through the pages of any random book, you’d most likely find bookmarks, creased page corners where I’ve marked my spot, and maybe even scraps of paper of whatever else was handy at the time. My books have become something more than just ink on compressed wood pulp; they’ve become a companion and guide to what they contain within. Each has a personality, defined by weight and paper thickness, type size, texture, smell, and color. While the cover wrappings identify the book, these are the attributes that truly define it – and its contents – in our memories.

There’s something about the printed word that I don’t think will ever go away; not with e-books, not with the iPhone, not with PDFs, not even with the Kindle. Having a book and being able to hold it, to thumb through the pages, smell the ink, hear the crackle of pages, actually have to use a bookmark, is something that no amount of electronic wizardry can replace. I can’t imagine a time when bookstores exist to peddle streams of data, broadcasting wifi copies, and selling disks of Wordsworth. Each book – from novels to encyclopedias – is its own journey, and I think those deserve to take up a little extra space.

For anyone who hasn’t been following me on Twitter (and I’m sure that’s about 99.9% of all human beings), I made the journey up to Nebraska this weekend for the BigOmaha conference. I was hit by a massive thunderstorm, Google Maps had me circle through Kansas City once just for the hell of it, and I discovered that Iowa doesn’t have any major roads that aren’t A) under construction or B) covered in roadkill.

I went in with zero expectations, hoping the  chunk of spare change I spent would be worth it. I’ve been looking for something, I have no idea what it is. I wasn’t expecting this conference to hit me with a flash of insight as to what to do with me life, but I thought it’s as good a place as any to start.

Over the next week or two (depending on how much I write), I’m going to be posting some summation articles of the speakers and topics at the conference and my observations during my time here. As I site here writing this in the hotel a few blocks from where the event took place, I’ve got a huge mix of feelings about a number of topics. Check back in the next few days for my take on what happened here, and some of the ideas I’ve taken with me.

I’ve been a recent convert to using Twitter, and while I hate to give it any more press than it has already received… I just have. Name-dropping aside, my experience with Twitter has encouraged me to take a step back and look at this whole social networking thing and really evaluate why we do it, and to look a bit more objectively on the culture of the Web as a whole and its impact on society. Below are some random observations and thoughts that have occurred to me as of late:

Communication is… good?

In general, I think most people would agree that the ease of information sharing brought about in the revolution of the Internet Age and the way it facilitates open communication is a good thing. Yet, at the same time I believe that most people who would agree with the previous statement are thinking in terms of scientists huddled around laptops, basking in the glow of shared info from their colleagues at the Anaheim Center for Diseased Rodent Studies. Our idealization of “communication” is that it is used for the betterment of mankind in political, artistic, or scientific endeavors – not to discuss the latetst episode of American Idol and how the judges were sooooo stupid or to share a video of a guy getting lit on fire in a banana suit. With the light-speed info sharing methods we now take for granted, both ends of the communication spectrum are consistently expressed.

Enter social media and networking. It’s not really a new idea, but more the result of a variety of practices and approaches that have coalesced into a single category that we can finally put a label on – because anything without a defined label or buzzword is terrifying. But that label makes all the difference. Telling someone to place all of their contact information on their website would make them leery of solicitations, fraudulent deals, etc.; telling them to place their information on a social networking site like Facebook or LinkedIn because “everyone is doing it” generates a mob mentality that ends in approval. There’s something about the idea that taps into the core need of all human beings to find acceptance among the whole, to feel that they are a part of something larger than themselves – even if it is a group discussion on how hawt John Stamos was on ER.

The phenomenon of transparency

The truth of humanity in regard to communication is that any advancements that are made and used for this ambiguous “betterment of mankind” end up also enabling us to express the more immature, intolerant, fearful, and emotionally needy sides of ourselves. The more frequent and easier the communication, the more those deeper facets seem to want to emerge to the forefront.

I was recently working with a photographer, who related a story about one of his clients. A bride-to-be contacted him with a meeting request. He immediately searched Facebook, found her profile, and proceeded to discover everything about her that was possible. Within minutes he had learned what sorority she was a part of, her favorite songs, the names of all of her friends, viewed several photos of her in a bikini, knew the names of her family members, her birthday, and about three different ways to contact her. He then spent a few additional minutes going through her wall posts and groups, gauging her personality, tone, and interests. He then called her back a few moments later and was able to strike up a conversation, schedule the meeting, and place in a few favorable comments based on his info.

There are a lot of interesting things about this story to me, and it’s not an uncommon one. The obvious business potential is there, and with it the ability to get to find more about someone you see as being interesting. There also exists the possibility for more sinister applications ala cyber stalking or the Craigslist Killer. But what I find most interesting is the willful sharing of those things that form the core of your private life. Pictures, memories, conversations, relationships, love interests… all these things are present for public perusal.

The idea strikes me that by baring all your thoughts and feelings to society as whole, you somehow cease to be an individual and rather become another object within the culture – something more than just bits of data yet still less than a human being. The difference is in the anonymity, the lack of control that the owner of the information has over who is viewing it, the socially-accepted voyeurism. I don’t really have an explanation for it, but I do believe that it is at its core a representation of the state of a person’s self-esteem indicated by how much information they choose to share in the vast and public world of the Web. We all have egos, and the ease with which we can share those things about our lives we think other people may find interesting serves to enhance those egos – for good, bad, or whatever else.

Redundancy

The communication aspects that are the hallmark of the Web haven’t changed; Email is still the main method in use, with a sizable share going to instant messaging as well. What has changed is the internalization of these methods. Nearly every social networking site boasts email alerts from a variety of events: friend updates, public messages, private messages, status changes, group invites, etc. The difference is that each soc-net site has a specific goal to keep you coming back to login, eat a little of their bandwidth, and (most importantly) view their ads – and to this end does not allow you to respond to any of the email updates via your mail client. Some services, like Facebook, have now even built in a closed instant messaging system to encourage more user time spent on their site.

It’s a bit of a paradox. Most soc-net services allow some form of API integration for external use, yet only for the reasons of directing traffic back their site. This is a solid business approach, and I applaud the proliferation of API integrations. However, the internalization of these communication systems leads to an intriguing set of infrastructure considerations. Let’s take the example of Twitter, for instance. In its relatively short lifespan, Twitter has encouraged a countless number of apps and services to be created specifically to manipulate data and resubmit it. What happens if Twitter is dissolved, or (more likely) Ev Williams gets an offer for 20 billion dollars, sells it out, and the purchasing company overhauls it? Assuming even moderate changes to the system, a host of developments could be rendered useless. The same could happen to any other major web service: Flickr, Amazon’s Cloud services, Google’s App Engine, etc, etc.

When we build on these infrastructures or add our content to them, we’re going on faith that nothing is going to happen to these companies. This is the crux of the Web 2.0 generation of media. Can you image what would happen if Flickr lost all of its data? It sounds unimaginable, but similar incidents have occurred, like Magnolia being wiped off the face of the earth. These ventures exist to provide excellent services to their users and drive ad revenue, but one must keep in mind that many of these services also don’t charge a dime for the vast majority of the people who use them. I have to wonder when the sheer volume of bandwidth, data, cost, time, and users will reach a critical mass and another large provider will go down. Or perhaps we have the beginnings of the foundation for all Web interaction to come, the bedrock of providers upon which Web 3.0 will be erected.

Trying to keep up

Sharing information is now so ridiculously easy, especially with the advent of Twitter and its entourage of submission applications and methods. Once something is bounced into the tweetsphere, it grows and leaps from user to user in a way that the word ‘exponential’ can’t begin to describe. The speed at which something can be presented, reviewed, and either rejected or assimilated into the general Web culture presents an interesting set of circumstances and results.

In a medium where the entire planet can know in an instant that an event has occurred, the focus on keeping up to date shifts somewhat. In previous media cultures, we have rushed to stay ahead of the pack, to keep our eyes on what’s next so that we had an advantage over everyone else. Now, it’s nearly impossible to make a prediction of what new information developments will occur, what trends will develop, what events will garner attention and fame. Instead, we must now rush to keep up with each new facet in the day-to-day jumble, and hope that those ideas we’ve spent precious moments examining will turn out to be of sustainable value.

And lest we forget

Web culture is no longer its own paradigm. The Internet isn’t populated only by geeks, scientists, and IT professionals (though some of us wish we still lived in those glory days). It is now such a general part of our lives as to no longer be any different than the TV we watch, the radio we listen to, and the magazines we read. In past decades, a resounding “NO SOUP FOR YOU!!” would meet with immediate recognition and a smile for Mr. Seinfield. In the same way, we now giggle at references to “pwnage” or “You’ll run as fast as Kenyans!!” or the prevalent theme of zombies and pirates that seem to have become a staple of the Web.

But the key is that we aren’t giggling about these things in chatrooms or emails (at least not exclusively), but instead at our social events where we may share stories about a web comic we’ve read, a video we watched, a new service we’ve started using, or a new site that has these totally awesome LEGO models… We haven’t made the jump to a parallel existence where our online personas are mentally separated from our normal lives; we’ve integrated the ethereal realm of the Internet into our real life culture.

I’ll be very anxious to see where the next few years take us. The unbelievable rate at which our communicative society has evolved (and its impact on world culture) suggests that we’re rapidly approaching… something. The Epoch of Humanity? A unified consciousness? The noosphere? Armageddon? Who knows, but it’ll be a very interesting ride.