The World-Wide Web
I’ve just discovered another multi-user blog, and I’m having great fun with it. The first post reads, “Whoever cleans this place must be a man. He didn’t put the trash can back in the stall! Now where am I supposed to put this bloody tampon?!!”
The reply below is says, “Shove it up you’re a*#, you whiney bitch!”
And to this, another unsigned note says, “Why are you afraid to write ASS, when you’re willing to say BITCH?”
“Yeah,” says another, “and your grammar is atrocious. Learn to use an apostrophe!”
The intellectual snob in me perks up. Now the discussion is getting interesting! After this note comes another reader’s thought: “Grammar and punctuation are not important, as long as your point is clear.” This one is actually signed: “~an English minor.”
I’m ready to join the fray. Below the English minor’s comment, I write, “Used properly, grammar and punctuation make your point clear to everybody. That’s why they matter.” I sign my comment, “~an English major.”
Reading on, I see a post that I feel I must comment directly on: “Here I sit all broken-hearted. Came to s*%#, but only farted.”
“Oh, that’s original!” I write, hoping that sarcasm will come across here. Ah, well. I can’t expect brilliant discourse from every post in this place. After all, this is a stall wall in a women’s bathroom on the University of Colorado’s campus. I am surprised and delighted to find a discussion of any interest here, but the truth is that I usually do find some philosophy, and some hearty back-and-forth debate, in any place where people write anonymous graffiti. The tunnels under roads on the University of Northern Colorado’s campus, outhouses on hiking trails, and the tables in funkier coffee shops prove equally entertaining. Sometimes, while typing my thoughts to my friends, I’ve stopped to wonder what we did before we had weblogs, but that just means it’s been too long since I’ve visited a rarely-repainted public restroom. People have been airing their opinions, and hailing or smashing down other people’s, for as long as we’ve known how to write—perhaps longer, actually. I wonder if that’s what the paintings in the caves of Lascaux were really all about.
I learned a similar lesson from a recent trip to San Francisco. When I’d returned to Colorado, I was explaining to my friend Ron why I had taken a snapshot of an old wooden telephone pole, encrusted with staples. “Oh, this is cool!” I gurgled. “Izu, the guide on The Haight Ashbury Flower Power Walking Tour, says that this was the main message post in Haight Ashbury during the Summer of Love. If you were looking for someone, you’d just staple a note up here and wait for a few days. Eventually, your friend would walk by, read the note, and staple one up for you, telling you where and when to meet him. If you were new in town, and didn’t have a place to stay or food to eat, you’d staple up a note asking for help, and someone would leave a note for you and hook you up. The hippies took care of each other back then, and this was how they made contact.”
“Ah,” said Ron, nodding sagely, “the original Craig’s List. I knew it started in San Francisco!”
He was right! This was the pencil-and-paper version of Craig’s List, where today I find places to stay again and again, I find jobs to help me put food on my table (or whoever’s table I’m using that week, traveling neo-hippie that I am), and where I meet new friends to exchange stuff and advice with. The Haight Ashbury message pole was, of course, just a large-scale version of the community bulletin boards that have graced churches, community centers, and grocery stores for decades. People have been taking care of strangers since long before 1967, and they continue to do so today.
I am in love with the Internet. I love all of the things and ideas and people I can find on Craig’s List. I love the power of blogs: My brilliant friend Rachel kept me informed about all sides of the latest Presidential election by linking important news stories to her blog. My dear friend Ron is extremely busy and often out of town on business trips, so I rarely get to see him or catch him on the phone, yet I read his blog and post my comments and feel that we’re still in touch. Having just broken up with an incredibly kind, but not-quite-compatible guy, I was afraid to call or visit, for fear of upsetting him even more. Still, when I thought of him, I could check his blog and rest assured that he was okay. My own blog helped me sort out a complicated friendship by telling my friend how I'd felt about him, six months after I felt it. I love the Internet! This is my favorite and most powerful way to connect with people! Still, from the hippie pole in San Francisco to the ladies’ room down the street, I see examples everywhere of the ways we have always connected. The World Wide Web is real, but it is older and more ingrained than any electronic network. The web of community is as old as humanity itself. That, I think, is particularly groovy!
The reply below is says, “Shove it up you’re a*#, you whiney bitch!”
And to this, another unsigned note says, “Why are you afraid to write ASS, when you’re willing to say BITCH?”
“Yeah,” says another, “and your grammar is atrocious. Learn to use an apostrophe!”
The intellectual snob in me perks up. Now the discussion is getting interesting! After this note comes another reader’s thought: “Grammar and punctuation are not important, as long as your point is clear.” This one is actually signed: “~an English minor.”
I’m ready to join the fray. Below the English minor’s comment, I write, “Used properly, grammar and punctuation make your point clear to everybody. That’s why they matter.” I sign my comment, “~an English major.”
Reading on, I see a post that I feel I must comment directly on: “Here I sit all broken-hearted. Came to s*%#, but only farted.”
“Oh, that’s original!” I write, hoping that sarcasm will come across here. Ah, well. I can’t expect brilliant discourse from every post in this place. After all, this is a stall wall in a women’s bathroom on the University of Colorado’s campus. I am surprised and delighted to find a discussion of any interest here, but the truth is that I usually do find some philosophy, and some hearty back-and-forth debate, in any place where people write anonymous graffiti. The tunnels under roads on the University of Northern Colorado’s campus, outhouses on hiking trails, and the tables in funkier coffee shops prove equally entertaining. Sometimes, while typing my thoughts to my friends, I’ve stopped to wonder what we did before we had weblogs, but that just means it’s been too long since I’ve visited a rarely-repainted public restroom. People have been airing their opinions, and hailing or smashing down other people’s, for as long as we’ve known how to write—perhaps longer, actually. I wonder if that’s what the paintings in the caves of Lascaux were really all about.
I learned a similar lesson from a recent trip to San Francisco. When I’d returned to Colorado, I was explaining to my friend Ron why I had taken a snapshot of an old wooden telephone pole, encrusted with staples. “Oh, this is cool!” I gurgled. “Izu, the guide on The Haight Ashbury Flower Power Walking Tour, says that this was the main message post in Haight Ashbury during the Summer of Love. If you were looking for someone, you’d just staple a note up here and wait for a few days. Eventually, your friend would walk by, read the note, and staple one up for you, telling you where and when to meet him. If you were new in town, and didn’t have a place to stay or food to eat, you’d staple up a note asking for help, and someone would leave a note for you and hook you up. The hippies took care of each other back then, and this was how they made contact.”
“Ah,” said Ron, nodding sagely, “the original Craig’s List. I knew it started in San Francisco!”
He was right! This was the pencil-and-paper version of Craig’s List, where today I find places to stay again and again, I find jobs to help me put food on my table (or whoever’s table I’m using that week, traveling neo-hippie that I am), and where I meet new friends to exchange stuff and advice with. The Haight Ashbury message pole was, of course, just a large-scale version of the community bulletin boards that have graced churches, community centers, and grocery stores for decades. People have been taking care of strangers since long before 1967, and they continue to do so today.
I am in love with the Internet. I love all of the things and ideas and people I can find on Craig’s List. I love the power of blogs: My brilliant friend Rachel kept me informed about all sides of the latest Presidential election by linking important news stories to her blog. My dear friend Ron is extremely busy and often out of town on business trips, so I rarely get to see him or catch him on the phone, yet I read his blog and post my comments and feel that we’re still in touch. Having just broken up with an incredibly kind, but not-quite-compatible guy, I was afraid to call or visit, for fear of upsetting him even more. Still, when I thought of him, I could check his blog and rest assured that he was okay. My own blog helped me sort out a complicated friendship by telling my friend how I'd felt about him, six months after I felt it. I love the Internet! This is my favorite and most powerful way to connect with people! Still, from the hippie pole in San Francisco to the ladies’ room down the street, I see examples everywhere of the ways we have always connected. The World Wide Web is real, but it is older and more ingrained than any electronic network. The web of community is as old as humanity itself. That, I think, is particularly groovy!
posted by Anita @ 3:31 PM
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