Sunday, July 17, 2005
Blog Rules ok
Sunstruck
Luxuriating in the sun is an ang moh habit I picked up from my time abroad, which will probably earn me a melanoma or two when I'm old.
It's different here in Singaland though; over there you lie in the grass and hundreds of people lie around you, reading their books or lying in lazy embraces with their.. special friends... dogs trot past led by their beautiful mistresses. It's very tranquil and you invariably... doze.. off.
Over here you lie at home with your back to concrete (becauuse heaven knows what lurks in the lallang..) and for company you have
1) The new Harry Potter novel, which isn't disappointing thus far
2) a single inquisitive sunbird who surreptitiously sneaks up really close to you and tweets inquiringly (no doubt thinking of calling all his friends down to have a closer look if this big human thing is really dead), and
3) about a million ants all trying doggedly to latch on to this really big meal and drag it back to their nest.
They're quite literally a pain.
I'm thinking about buying a deck chair...
*****
Ms Utterly-Indiscreet writes about the blogger con that she didn't-quite catch yesterday, and about blog nettiquette... What you can, and cannot write.
Anyhow, here's my take on things in brief.
1) I can see why all the women think Mr Miyagi is so cute. So cuuuute, so kawai. Macham pika-chu.
Yer lawyerly bastard, stealing all our women... grr.
2) Mr Brown is not after all a man-mountain. He just poses with Mr Miyagi a lot. And Faith is beautiful. Even if only viewed from one storey below, through a glass window.
3) After much consideration I have decided that as in everything, there are bloggers, and there are bloggers.
Certain varieties of bloggers write for attention. I've labelled them media whores in the past, I now concede that they are shrewd and focused individuals adept at achieving their aims. Hence the frameshift in terminology from mediawhore to publicityprostitute - slightly more professional, perform cleanliness checks on themselves periodically, yet still willing to swallow anything - for the right price.
It still offends me that people use "personal blogs" as a vehicle to fame, since I'm one of the (if not the only) purists left who believes in words, and... people. And thoughts, and freedom; and sincerity.
I think that blogging should be done sans frontiers - write about the things you really think about (as opposed to what you think your audience wants to hear), the things you really love and hate (as opposed to the nasty things you can write about other people guaranteed to garner you an amused audience) - no matter how trivial. No matter how boring. No matter how much you'll alienate your readers. Because that is, essentially, your soul.
And hence in my blogsphere there will always be space for even theboring people intellectuals who write about politics - as long as it is true to their hearts, and they write with a passion that belies their insanity conviction.
There will be space too for pseudo bloggers using that two-bit "moblog" platform (ha) who write touchingly sweet stories about men and women, who are clearly really writing about the magical moments in their own lives... and that too is sincere.
So too for the satirists who stand poised with their chisels and hammers, against their sledgehammer wielding adversaries, thumbing their chubby noses.
But my own personal set of rules mirrors Ms Indiscreet's -
1) Never give up your identity. Your mask is the guarantor of sincerity - It's not, as the media is so often fond of writing - about cowardice and taking shelter behind the comforting rock of anonymity.
It's plain common sense. You can't write honestly about - work for instance - if everyone reads you. You'll lose your job. You'll hurt your colleagues. Everything you want to write - will be censored into politically correct drivel which even you won't want to read - let alone write. (This is essentially the theory of Schroedinger's Cat in a box - for those unfamiliar with the story, a cat is trapped in a box with a triggering device that will smash a vial of cyanide if the box is opened : you cannot tell if the cat is alive or not except by opening the box... but the act of observation alone may change the outcome of the scenario)
Why be a boring two-bit writer with a "real identity" when you can write your mind from behind your mask all of the time? Leave the two-bit politically-censored writing to the "professional" journalists, I say.
2) Never write to cause harm.
Euphemism and hyperbole are two of my favourite tools; they transform the world from the dreary, forgettable greyness that is apparent everyday to my eyes, to something colourful and worth remembering in my head.
But euphemism and hyperbole gone wrong can be hurtful.
I recognise this, because I've done it a few times. So all I can do is try to check the balance; and only fly off the edge when someone or something makes me so incredibly angry I cannot restrain myself. Fortunately that doesn't happen very often.
3) Ignore the rules.
What was with the blogger con anyway, from what I gathered it was a sit-down event where the famous five sat on stage telling other bloggers how to write, and what not to write. Only in Singaland would what should essentially be a huge meeting of diverse minds turn into a public lecture / tutorial, led by a team of "experts".
(- addendum - I am told that really, it was a sit-down symposium for bloggers to exchange helpful ideas with their blog idols... which doesn't quite detract from the fact that it was essentially Shep the sheepdog(s) herding lesser sheep towards blog-nirvana. Like it or not, that's the way the cookie crumbles. I'd have imagined a blogger con held in a convention hall somewhere, people standing on their feet, mingling and holding glasses of champagne - or at least coke, or hell blue lagoon cocktails dunked out of huge garbage bins - just chatting to each other. Shrug, playing party games in groups. Organising themselves by common interest. Maybe, yes, a brief symposium lasting an hour, with lots of public microphones and invitations to unknown writers to take the stage and share what drives them to write. Maybe even a large computer screen in the background with blogs of more retiring individuals appearing at the whims of the facilitators, to acknowledge their existence, and possibly even their aptitude as writers. Maybe roaming cameras in the audience to seek out said shrinking violets and put them up for all the world to see, to make them squirm in the public eye and take a bow, if only for an instant. Something fun.)
No, no, and no. There are no rules to blogging - we make them up as we go along. My three tenets here - are my own. And I'm damn well ignoring anybody else's rules (including the bits about legal repercussions) if they compromise my ability to write.
I don't care if I'm a "good" blogger or not (although trading punches with Mr Brown about how much we hate each other's blogs was good fun) - I don't care about publicity, or the media, or any of the other sycophants this country regurgitates from its pristinely clean bowels.
See, all I wanna do, is have some fun...
*****
He smiled at her reply to his gentle probing... whether, after getting to know him better she'd still agree to go out on a date with him.
(Isn't that what we've been doing?)
*****
The Second Rule of Dating
2) A date is a date... only as long as both parties know it is a date.
*****
The First Rule of Dating
1)
a) All men are bastards
however,
1)
b) All women are bitches
Luxuriating in the sun is an ang moh habit I picked up from my time abroad, which will probably earn me a melanoma or two when I'm old.
It's different here in Singaland though; over there you lie in the grass and hundreds of people lie around you, reading their books or lying in lazy embraces with their.. special friends... dogs trot past led by their beautiful mistresses. It's very tranquil and you invariably... doze.. off.
Over here you lie at home with your back to concrete (becauuse heaven knows what lurks in the lallang..) and for company you have
1) The new Harry Potter novel, which isn't disappointing thus far
2) a single inquisitive sunbird who surreptitiously sneaks up really close to you and tweets inquiringly (no doubt thinking of calling all his friends down to have a closer look if this big human thing is really dead), and
3) about a million ants all trying doggedly to latch on to this really big meal and drag it back to their nest.
They're quite literally a pain.
I'm thinking about buying a deck chair...
*****
Ms Utterly-Indiscreet writes about the blogger con that she didn't-quite catch yesterday, and about blog nettiquette... What you can, and cannot write.
Anyhow, here's my take on things in brief.
1) I can see why all the women think Mr Miyagi is so cute. So cuuuute, so kawai. Macham pika-chu.
Yer lawyerly bastard, stealing all our women... grr.
2) Mr Brown is not after all a man-mountain. He just poses with Mr Miyagi a lot. And Faith is beautiful. Even if only viewed from one storey below, through a glass window.
3) After much consideration I have decided that as in everything, there are bloggers, and there are bloggers.
Certain varieties of bloggers write for attention. I've labelled them media whores in the past, I now concede that they are shrewd and focused individuals adept at achieving their aims. Hence the frameshift in terminology from mediawhore to publicityprostitute - slightly more professional, perform cleanliness checks on themselves periodically, yet still willing to swallow anything - for the right price.
It still offends me that people use "personal blogs" as a vehicle to fame, since I'm one of the (if not the only) purists left who believes in words, and... people. And thoughts, and freedom; and sincerity.
I think that blogging should be done sans frontiers - write about the things you really think about (as opposed to what you think your audience wants to hear), the things you really love and hate (as opposed to the nasty things you can write about other people guaranteed to garner you an amused audience) - no matter how trivial. No matter how boring. No matter how much you'll alienate your readers. Because that is, essentially, your soul.
And hence in my blogsphere there will always be space for even the
There will be space too for pseudo bloggers using that two-bit "moblog" platform (ha) who write touchingly sweet stories about men and women, who are clearly really writing about the magical moments in their own lives... and that too is sincere.
So too for the satirists who stand poised with their chisels and hammers, against their sledgehammer wielding adversaries, thumbing their chubby noses.
But my own personal set of rules mirrors Ms Indiscreet's -
1) Never give up your identity. Your mask is the guarantor of sincerity - It's not, as the media is so often fond of writing - about cowardice and taking shelter behind the comforting rock of anonymity.
It's plain common sense. You can't write honestly about - work for instance - if everyone reads you. You'll lose your job. You'll hurt your colleagues. Everything you want to write - will be censored into politically correct drivel which even you won't want to read - let alone write. (This is essentially the theory of Schroedinger's Cat in a box - for those unfamiliar with the story, a cat is trapped in a box with a triggering device that will smash a vial of cyanide if the box is opened : you cannot tell if the cat is alive or not except by opening the box... but the act of observation alone may change the outcome of the scenario)
Why be a boring two-bit writer with a "real identity" when you can write your mind from behind your mask all of the time? Leave the two-bit politically-censored writing to the "professional" journalists, I say.
2) Never write to cause harm.
Euphemism and hyperbole are two of my favourite tools; they transform the world from the dreary, forgettable greyness that is apparent everyday to my eyes, to something colourful and worth remembering in my head.
But euphemism and hyperbole gone wrong can be hurtful.
I recognise this, because I've done it a few times. So all I can do is try to check the balance; and only fly off the edge when someone or something makes me so incredibly angry I cannot restrain myself. Fortunately that doesn't happen very often.
3) Ignore the rules.
What was with the blogger con anyway, from what I gathered it was a sit-down event where the famous five sat on stage telling other bloggers how to write, and what not to write. Only in Singaland would what should essentially be a huge meeting of diverse minds turn into a public lecture / tutorial, led by a team of "experts".
(- addendum - I am told that really, it was a sit-down symposium for bloggers to exchange helpful ideas with their blog idols... which doesn't quite detract from the fact that it was essentially Shep the sheepdog(s) herding lesser sheep towards blog-nirvana. Like it or not, that's the way the cookie crumbles. I'd have imagined a blogger con held in a convention hall somewhere, people standing on their feet, mingling and holding glasses of champagne - or at least coke, or hell blue lagoon cocktails dunked out of huge garbage bins - just chatting to each other. Shrug, playing party games in groups. Organising themselves by common interest. Maybe, yes, a brief symposium lasting an hour, with lots of public microphones and invitations to unknown writers to take the stage and share what drives them to write. Maybe even a large computer screen in the background with blogs of more retiring individuals appearing at the whims of the facilitators, to acknowledge their existence, and possibly even their aptitude as writers. Maybe roaming cameras in the audience to seek out said shrinking violets and put them up for all the world to see, to make them squirm in the public eye and take a bow, if only for an instant. Something fun.)
No, no, and no. There are no rules to blogging - we make them up as we go along. My three tenets here - are my own. And I'm damn well ignoring anybody else's rules (including the bits about legal repercussions) if they compromise my ability to write.
I don't care if I'm a "good" blogger or not (although trading punches with Mr Brown about how much we hate each other's blogs was good fun) - I don't care about publicity, or the media, or any of the other sycophants this country regurgitates from its pristinely clean bowels.
See, all I wanna do, is have some fun...
*****
He smiled at her reply to his gentle probing... whether, after getting to know him better she'd still agree to go out on a date with him.
(Isn't that what we've been doing?)
*****
The Second Rule of Dating
2) A date is a date... only as long as both parties know it is a date.
*****
The First Rule of Dating
1)
a) All men are bastards
however,
1)
b) All women are bitches
