I have invented the following words, but have not yet decided what they should mean. Screw etymology (even though, or perhaps just because, I love it). Suggestions are welcome.
Ksnø (alternative spelling for the less Scandi-inclined: Ksneu. The k is not silent).
Yuips (best uttered when slightly tipsy, so the meaning should probably be related).
Geddlelog.
Pouiyrtre (not to be confused with Poiuytre).
Whhsnosis (thinking this might be something for the medical communtiy?).
Fogbliggerfoullervat (most likely a rather literal translation of something German).
Thank you for your attention.
(For the record, I did not invent these last 23 words. Nor the first 29 of this post.)
Showing posts with label owiueuowihgew. Show all posts
Showing posts with label owiueuowihgew. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
On wanting badly to smack a deserving soul in the face but realizing it would not serve the intended purpose (but nevertheless feel good)
Certain people make me turn into this guy:
(And I'm not talking about John)
(And I'm not talking about John)
Monday, May 7, 2012
On embracing chaos
It's my new motto. Embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto: Embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto; embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto — embrace the chaos.
I couldn't decide which punctuation worked better, so I chose them all
(It's my new motto.:;— E[e]mbrace the chaos.)
Most people use punctuation to avoid chaos. I'm not most people. Besides,
besides
besides, punctuation is chaos. To me.
It's my new motto: Embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto; embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto — embrace the chaos.
I couldn't decide which punctuation worked better, so I chose them all
(It's my new motto.:;— E[e]mbrace the chaos.)
Most people use punctuation to avoid chaos. I'm not most people. Besides,
besides
besides, punctuation is chaos. To me.
So I'm embracing it.
Chaos is everywhere. Chaos is everything. Chaos is a movie starring Ryan Philippe, Jason Statham and Wesley Snipes. Chaos is "a state of utter confusion or disorder; a total lack of organization or order." Chaos is (religion) a chasms or abyss; it is (science) any state of confusion or disorder, plus a branch of mathematics and physics; it is (in the Discordian calendar) a month. Chaos is punctuation. Chaos is being punctured by chaos.
My head is chaos.
Chaos = my head = chaos.
Stop thinking so much, they say. I have no means to do so. Besides,
besides,
Chaos = my head - thinking = chaos.
(This is a very specialized version of chaos theory. A branch of mathematics and physics.)
I cannot stop thinking. I cannot even stop thinking so much. Define "so much". Definitions are meant to make things less chaotic. But then there are so many of them. =chaos.
My only remaining solution.
Embrace.
Embracing the chaos.
Letting it surround me.
Inviting more of it in.
Maybe I'll explode.
Or implode.
Either way explained by a complex branch of mathematics and physics, I'm sure.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
On Botswana
This post has nothing to do with Botswana.
I just needed a title. A working title, if you will. But if you won't, you'd be more correct, because it has effectively ceased to be a working title now that I've commented on it. Otherwise the comment wouldn't make sense. And then I'd have to change the introduction to this post. I'd be a working post.
I won't change the introduction or title of this post. Even though it has exceptionally little to do with Botswana.
It has exceptionally little to do with most things, actually. Though, "actually", it's not that hard to not discuss most things. Even if I were to discuss coffee filters, telephones, snow, sunsets, polka-dot dresses, cartoons, albatrosses, fiddlers, mid-century furniture, lollipops and single-cell animals - which I am not - the things-packed post I'd have written would still not discuss "most things". All the above mentioned things are, after all, a minority when it comes to things in general. All the things. This wasn't even a sizeable sample.
A post that has nothing to do with Botswana or most things.
It also has nothing to do with Lionel Richie. (Well, I suppose now it sort of does...)
I can see the postman. But the non-Botswana post also has nothing to do with that. Maybe I should write a post-post sometime? And then the day thereafter I can write a post post-post. Ha. Sometimes I'm too funny for my own good...
I am too [insert multiple adjectives] for my own good, actually. My mind is everywhere else than where it should be. Or... "Should" should be a matter of definition. One should have one's mind where I have mine right now, occasionally. (That sounded naughty. It isn't. Not really. The answer to the question I'm sure y'all are desperate to ask - "where??" - is not "the gutter". For once.) But one should perhaps not have one's mind there when one is trying to work. Or write posts that are or are not about Botswana.
Actually, here's a Botswana-related thing (out of all the things) after all. I learned yesterday that Botswana has a remarkably well-functioning economy, with the highest growth rate in the world. There. Title justified.
I just needed a title. A working title, if you will. But if you won't, you'd be more correct, because it has effectively ceased to be a working title now that I've commented on it. Otherwise the comment wouldn't make sense. And then I'd have to change the introduction to this post. I'd be a working post.
I won't change the introduction or title of this post. Even though it has exceptionally little to do with Botswana.
It has exceptionally little to do with most things, actually. Though, "actually", it's not that hard to not discuss most things. Even if I were to discuss coffee filters, telephones, snow, sunsets, polka-dot dresses, cartoons, albatrosses, fiddlers, mid-century furniture, lollipops and single-cell animals - which I am not - the things-packed post I'd have written would still not discuss "most things". All the above mentioned things are, after all, a minority when it comes to things in general. All the things. This wasn't even a sizeable sample.
A post that has nothing to do with Botswana or most things.
It also has nothing to do with Lionel Richie. (Well, I suppose now it sort of does...)
I can see the postman. But the non-Botswana post also has nothing to do with that. Maybe I should write a post-post sometime? And then the day thereafter I can write a post post-post. Ha. Sometimes I'm too funny for my own good...
I am too [insert multiple adjectives] for my own good, actually. My mind is everywhere else than where it should be. Or... "Should" should be a matter of definition. One should have one's mind where I have mine right now, occasionally. (That sounded naughty. It isn't. Not really. The answer to the question I'm sure y'all are desperate to ask - "where??" - is not "the gutter". For once.) But one should perhaps not have one's mind there when one is trying to work. Or write posts that are or are not about Botswana.
Work. Concentration. Reading. Thinking. Planning. Planning... Hoping? Dreaming? Wanting?
 |
| Sheep. |
 |
| Cookie. |
Actually, here's a Botswana-related thing (out of all the things) after all. I learned yesterday that Botswana has a remarkably well-functioning economy, with the highest growth rate in the world. There. Title justified.
Monday, October 24, 2011
On heresay
I'm not here.
Oh, don't you worry. I don't mean literally. Well, actually, I do. Assuming that "here" is defined by where you are at the moment, since you are reading it, and a text automatically belongs to the reader once it has left the authors hand (or so the post-structuralists say) (or maybe they don't say that, but bear with me) (in fact, don't. I'm not here. As the author of this text I am dead, post-structurally speaking, and I am also physically not in the same place as you, real-world-istically speaking. Unless you also happens to sit on a train on the way to Oslo. But I highly doubt that.)
I'm on a train to Oslo. This train may or may not have wifi - I don't know that now (now being the time of writing of this text), even if I will know by the time "now" becomes now (now being the time of you reading this text, since that realistically have to be at least eight hours after I write it, since that is when I am scheduling it for). Regardless of whether I know now or "now" if my train has wifi, though, that still won't interfere with my statement "I am not here", because I still will have written and scheduled this post now (before), and not now (after). So I am not - physically, obviously, but also metaphysically and mentally - here, if "here" is the blog, or the place from which you are reading this blog, or perhaps the Internet in general. I'm not there. Here. Whereorwhatever.
It's complicated, I know. Barthes and Derrida would have been proud. Except for the fact that I am making a thorough effort to place myself in the text by defining myself out of it, so in fact it seems as though I am here, now, even if I claim that I am not. Instead, I will claim I am elsewhere. On the train, yes, you already know that. On my way to Oslo. To where a job (a job!) is awaiting. A temporary job, but still. You will be free of the endless complaints of my unemployedness for a few weeks, at least. Hooray!
But also. My intention for defining myself out of this text by stating the obvious "I am not here", was not simply to confuse you or make you question my presence/existence/mental state. I meant to direct your attention towards the places where I do define myself as present. Such as the Burrow blog, where I have written a slightly less (but not by much) silly post that this one. It won't post till noon GMT, so if you are looking for me there before then you won't find me. I'll still be on the train, of course.
The other place, however, I wanted to direct your attention to, is here - in a sense - but it is here in a past "now". In yesterday's now in fact. The now that was (is!) a now when I wrote (am writing!) this. Yesterday I wrote a much more sensible post about an important topic I feel the need to share again. So, if you're tired of looking for me here, you might as well go here to find a more serious me.
In the meantime I need to get off this train and try to figure out where I am and what I'm supposed to do here. It is not unlikely that it might involve the death of the author.
Oh, don't you worry. I don't mean literally. Well, actually, I do. Assuming that "here" is defined by where you are at the moment, since you are reading it, and a text automatically belongs to the reader once it has left the authors hand (or so the post-structuralists say) (or maybe they don't say that, but bear with me) (in fact, don't. I'm not here. As the author of this text I am dead, post-structurally speaking, and I am also physically not in the same place as you, real-world-istically speaking. Unless you also happens to sit on a train on the way to Oslo. But I highly doubt that.)
I'm on a train to Oslo. This train may or may not have wifi - I don't know that now (now being the time of writing of this text), even if I will know by the time "now" becomes now (now being the time of you reading this text, since that realistically have to be at least eight hours after I write it, since that is when I am scheduling it for). Regardless of whether I know now or "now" if my train has wifi, though, that still won't interfere with my statement "I am not here", because I still will have written and scheduled this post now (before), and not now (after). So I am not - physically, obviously, but also metaphysically and mentally - here, if "here" is the blog, or the place from which you are reading this blog, or perhaps the Internet in general. I'm not there. Here. Whereorwhatever.
It's complicated, I know. Barthes and Derrida would have been proud. Except for the fact that I am making a thorough effort to place myself in the text by defining myself out of it, so in fact it seems as though I am here, now, even if I claim that I am not. Instead, I will claim I am elsewhere. On the train, yes, you already know that. On my way to Oslo. To where a job (a job!) is awaiting. A temporary job, but still. You will be free of the endless complaints of my unemployedness for a few weeks, at least. Hooray!
But also. My intention for defining myself out of this text by stating the obvious "I am not here", was not simply to confuse you or make you question my presence/existence/mental state. I meant to direct your attention towards the places where I do define myself as present. Such as the Burrow blog, where I have written a slightly less (but not by much) silly post that this one. It won't post till noon GMT, so if you are looking for me there before then you won't find me. I'll still be on the train, of course.
The other place, however, I wanted to direct your attention to, is here - in a sense - but it is here in a past "now". In yesterday's now in fact. The now that was (is!) a now when I wrote (am writing!) this. Yesterday I wrote a much more sensible post about an important topic I feel the need to share again. So, if you're tired of looking for me here, you might as well go here to find a more serious me.
In the meantime I need to get off this train and try to figure out where I am and what I'm supposed to do here. It is not unlikely that it might involve the death of the author.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
On questions, of the frequently googled variety.
Every now
and then I check the stats for this site. Not actually because I am so terribly
obsessed about how many people visit my blog (well, okay, slightly because of
that too), but because checking the stats can be quite entertaining. You see,
there is a function that allows you to see from what website the visitors came.
Quite a lot of them are from google.com, .au, .ca, .so-on and .so-forth. In
itself not very interesting, but amusing when you also look at the search terms
used by these visitors. Or at least the ones landing on my blog are fairly interesting...
(Also, for clarity - the reason these people end up here might have a little something to do with this post...)
This month
Turning to my monthly stats, there are some truly random searches. I particularly like "nuclear chemistry site", "gingerbread song egner", and "norway starbucks salary". Let me try to answer your questions, random googlers.
Nuclear chemistry is not, has not been, and definitely never will be a specialty of mine. But since you came here looking for it, I can only assume that you ended up on my post on the Fukushima threat. This post was written when I still was in Japan, and it is coloured by this. However, I still feel that most of it is valid, even though some of my points seem less impressive now that the nuclear disaster has been ongoing for more than a month. "Fukushima will not be a Chernobyl 2!" I said. And yet - the disaster has since been upgraded to the top level of severity on the nuclear disaster scale. The same as Chernobyl. I still don't think Fukushima will have the lasting and widespread effects Chernobyl had - the way the radioactive material have leaked this time, for instance, is still quite different than it was in 1986. But there is no doubt that Fukushima has become much more severe than I was willing to believe one month ago.
Was this what you were looking for, random googler? If not, let me guide you to a "nuclear chemistry site". You can never go wrong with Wikipedia. (Yes you can. Muchly. But if you want nuclear chemistry beyond that I am afraid you'll have to look elsewhere than this blog for answers.)
Torbjørn Egner's "The Gingerbread Song". You're at the wrong time of year, that's for sure. In Norway we only make these cookies for Christmas. But okay - I don't mind if you want to sing the song all year long. I have written about it, but I failed to include the actual song. Let me make up for that right away. Here you'll find one version. It probably won't make any sense to anyone that isn't Norwegian (since you won't understand the lyrics, or the pun), so I better also include a link to the original version of the song. You still won't understand the lyrics, but at least you might be able to see why the former is amusing (it's a parody). Also, I took the liberty to translate (very directly, very unlyrically) the lyrics. Just in case that's what you were looking for:
This week
One of the
major hits this week have been from people googling the sentence: ”Adam Hills
you’re not special princess”. I am sure Adam Hills is glad to hear that…
Actually, though, I happen to know what people are looking for when they google it. It's a bit (stop laughing Aussies...) he did as part of the hilarious "Live at the Apollo", and it's got many of my favourite Adam Hills jokes.
What I don't get, however, is why these googlers end up on my blog. I don't have the video here. Or rather, I didn't use to. But since I feel the need to satisfy these people who are clearly looking for a laugh, I am now posting the video here. Hopefully it'll satisfy some of the rest of you too.
The princess part starts at about 6:52, but do yourself a favour and watch the rest too. And make sure you don't have any coffee or such in your mouth while watching (it will end up in your nose/on your screen).
(Also, for clarity - the reason these people end up here might have a little something to do with this post...)
This month
Turning to my monthly stats, there are some truly random searches. I particularly like "nuclear chemistry site", "gingerbread song egner", and "norway starbucks salary". Let me try to answer your questions, random googlers.
Nuclear chemistry is not, has not been, and definitely never will be a specialty of mine. But since you came here looking for it, I can only assume that you ended up on my post on the Fukushima threat. This post was written when I still was in Japan, and it is coloured by this. However, I still feel that most of it is valid, even though some of my points seem less impressive now that the nuclear disaster has been ongoing for more than a month. "Fukushima will not be a Chernobyl 2!" I said. And yet - the disaster has since been upgraded to the top level of severity on the nuclear disaster scale. The same as Chernobyl. I still don't think Fukushima will have the lasting and widespread effects Chernobyl had - the way the radioactive material have leaked this time, for instance, is still quite different than it was in 1986. But there is no doubt that Fukushima has become much more severe than I was willing to believe one month ago.
Was this what you were looking for, random googler? If not, let me guide you to a "nuclear chemistry site". You can never go wrong with Wikipedia. (Yes you can. Muchly. But if you want nuclear chemistry beyond that I am afraid you'll have to look elsewhere than this blog for answers.)
Torbjørn Egner's "The Gingerbread Song". You're at the wrong time of year, that's for sure. In Norway we only make these cookies for Christmas. But okay - I don't mind if you want to sing the song all year long. I have written about it, but I failed to include the actual song. Let me make up for that right away. Here you'll find one version. It probably won't make any sense to anyone that isn't Norwegian (since you won't understand the lyrics, or the pun), so I better also include a link to the original version of the song. You still won't understand the lyrics, but at least you might be able to see why the former is amusing (it's a parody). Also, I took the liberty to translate (very directly, very unlyrically) the lyrics. Just in case that's what you were looking for:
When a gingerbread cookie baker
Is baking gingerbread cookies
He first takes a cooking pot
And a kilo margarine
He melts the butter [margarine..?] in the pot
And the next he has to do,
Is to mix the melted butter
With a kilo sugar.
And while the butter and sugar is foaming
You take eight egg yolks
That you stir into the pot
With a kilo wheat flour
And in the end you drop
Into the pot a small tea spoon pepper
And then stir all about!
I make no excuses for the fact that it obviously makes no sense. Plus, the recipe is rubbish, and NOT for gingerbread cookies. Egner was a better writer than was he a baker (though I JUST realized he changed P.O.V. during the song... Not so great writer either? Childhood hero lost? Nah, I forgive him).
Norwegian Starbucks salary. This one is easy. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. You won't get a dime (or an øre, as would be more likely, this being Norway and all. Øre = 100th of a krone, by the way. Øre [also] = ear...) The reason? You'll find out here.
All time
Two search phrases dominate my all time search history. Both seem incredibly unreasonable to me.
Fraggle rock characters. 77 people have searched for "Fraggle Rock characters" and arrived at my blog. 68 simply searched for "Fraggle Rock". Add 21 for "Uncle Traveling Matt" and a dozen each for "fraggle uncle" or "fraggle rock pictures" and this is clearly one of the main searches that leads to my blog. Not giraffes. Oh, no. Fraggles. I love me some Fraggles, but this is just silly. Haven’t I written like one post about them? One!
And yet. They came here looking for Fraggles. Poor things. I feel the need to provide Fraggles.
Looking for the theme song? It's here! And here. The latter is the Norwegian version, by the way. You know you want to hear how it sounds in Norwegian right..? Of course you do. That's why the former ALSO is the Norwegian version ;)
By the way - did you know how JK Rowling came up with the word for non-magical people in the Harry Potter books?
Fraggle rock characters. 77 people have searched for "Fraggle Rock characters" and arrived at my blog. 68 simply searched for "Fraggle Rock". Add 21 for "Uncle Traveling Matt" and a dozen each for "fraggle uncle" or "fraggle rock pictures" and this is clearly one of the main searches that leads to my blog. Not giraffes. Oh, no. Fraggles. I love me some Fraggles, but this is just silly. Haven’t I written like one post about them? One!
And yet. They came here looking for Fraggles. Poor things. I feel the need to provide Fraggles.
Looking for the theme song? It's here! And here. The latter is the Norwegian version, by the way. You know you want to hear how it sounds in Norwegian right..? Of course you do. That's why the former ALSO is the Norwegian version ;)
By the way - did you know how JK Rowling came up with the word for non-magical people in the Harry Potter books?
Muppet + Fraggle = MUGGLE!
(True story)
Cats the
musical. I am no
crazy cat lady, but I am a crazy-cat lady. I’m not the crazy one – the cats
are. You see, I have this special thing - I don't know if it's a touch, a way of moving, a smell, or Digression forbid, a stench - but cats love it. I generally get along well with other people's cats (I've never owned one myself), but the real oddity is with stray cats (actual cats). Stray cats have followed me home since I was little (still cats. No metaphor intended). They would seek out my window - among the dozens of other windows in my house, they would always find mine - and then sit there and cry all night, until I took pity on them and talked back, or came out, or fed them or some such thing. Like magic.
Apparently, this magic also works across the internet. I know I have written about this before, but it still baffles me. Why do people search for cats, and end up here, of all places?!? The internet is swarming with cats (do cats swarm? A murder of crows, a pack of cats? The internet is packed with cats? Hm...). There is absolutely no need to come here to look for them! But since you did, let me help you out. I aim to please (and purr) after all (this might be why cats like me).
A great deal of the cat-searches that lead to my blog also include the words "the musical". Now, you might think this is the critically (and publically) acclaimed musical "Cats", but you arewrong boring. "The musical cat(s)", I say! Just take a look at this:
So there. Those where my answers to your frequently googled questions. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to find out who or what "gregory cauthen" and "rooibos charcot marie tooth" are, and why they lead people to my blog.
Apparently, this magic also works across the internet. I know I have written about this before, but it still baffles me. Why do people search for cats, and end up here, of all places?!? The internet is swarming with cats (do cats swarm? A murder of crows, a pack of cats? The internet is packed with cats? Hm...). There is absolutely no need to come here to look for them! But since you did, let me help you out. I aim to please (and purr) after all (this might be why cats like me).
A great deal of the cat-searches that lead to my blog also include the words "the musical". Now, you might think this is the critically (and publically) acclaimed musical "Cats", but you are
So there. Those where my answers to your frequently googled questions. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to find out who or what "gregory cauthen" and "rooibos charcot marie tooth" are, and why they lead people to my blog.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
On the difficulty of coming up with blog titles with the word “giraffe” in it
You may not be aware of how hard my life can be sometimes, but let me fill you in. For instance, I really struggle a lot when it comes to coming up with clever titles for giraffable posts. It’s particularly tough because I also have committed myself to starting every blog post title with the word “on” (apart from the very special extra post that appeared on 9 October 2009, but extra editions are supposed to be special, so I am good). I used the title “On giraffes” within the first week or so of blogging, and ever since I have had this persistent problem.
This may or may not have been the reason that the digression part of my blog has become much larger than the giraffe one.
Despite such hardships, however, I try to carry on. Future blog titles in posts where giraffes are prominent may or may not be:
a) On giraffes (agaaaaain);
b) On giraffing;
c) On the giraffe;
d) On a giraffe;
e) On animals with very long necks;
...and so on. We shall see.
Today’s post’s giraffability once again concerns the baby giraffe in Kristiansand Dyrepark. As predicted (by yours truly – I sense that a psychic streak runs in the family), there now is an ongoing competition to name the giraffe. First, there was the option of sending in suggestions. I wanted to do that, but I couldn’t think of any appropriate names, and then I realized that there were already a gazillion suggestions – many of them very good. So, instead I waited for the second part of the naming rite, where people can vote on whichever one they prefer out of eight (I think) names (from the gazillion suggestions) picked by a jury. It seems, then, that the giraffe will end up being called
a) Laffen; or
b) Raffen; or
c) Yoda (!); or even
d) Jacques Sjiraff (which I am not supporting, seeing as I strongly dislike the spelling variant “sjiraff” as opposed to “giraff” in Norwegian. Though I like the pun); or
e) Milo (which received my vote, even though it is a laundry detergent brand…);
...or one or two others that I can’t remember anymore (I can't for the life of me find the list. The site that where I found them now only has a "you've already voted" message, and I can't make it go away. It appears that once you've voted, the potential names for the baby giraffe becomes owiueuowihgew).
In other giraffe related news, I can proudly announce that at http://www.onemilliongiraffes.com/ (still one of my very favourite websites that I, once again, recommend to absolutely everyone) one of the many giraffes I have contributed with was made “Giraffe of the day” yesterday, 1 March 2010.
It may or may not have been a deliberate strategy to
a) cheer me up; or
b) make me make more giraffes and advertize them on my blog, since it’s been a while
...(the latter is probably more realistic), but, either way, my giraffe has been singled out, AGAIN! Yay! This is a very exclusive company to be part of – of the 602 098 giraffes that so far have been uploaded to the site, only 264 have been picked to be giraffe of the day (and mine twice – wohoo!).
For the record, it did cheer me up =)
Have a giraffabulous day!
This may or may not have been the reason that the digression part of my blog has become much larger than the giraffe one.
Despite such hardships, however, I try to carry on. Future blog titles in posts where giraffes are prominent may or may not be:
a) On giraffes (agaaaaain);
b) On giraffing;
c) On the giraffe;
d) On a giraffe;
e) On animals with very long necks;
...and so on. We shall see.
Today’s post’s giraffability once again concerns the baby giraffe in Kristiansand Dyrepark. As predicted (by yours truly – I sense that a psychic streak runs in the family), there now is an ongoing competition to name the giraffe. First, there was the option of sending in suggestions. I wanted to do that, but I couldn’t think of any appropriate names, and then I realized that there were already a gazillion suggestions – many of them very good. So, instead I waited for the second part of the naming rite, where people can vote on whichever one they prefer out of eight (I think) names (from the gazillion suggestions) picked by a jury. It seems, then, that the giraffe will end up being called
a) Laffen; or
b) Raffen; or
c) Yoda (!); or even
d) Jacques Sjiraff (which I am not supporting, seeing as I strongly dislike the spelling variant “sjiraff” as opposed to “giraff” in Norwegian. Though I like the pun); or
e) Milo (which received my vote, even though it is a laundry detergent brand…);
...or one or two others that I can’t remember anymore (I can't for the life of me find the list. The site that where I found them now only has a "you've already voted" message, and I can't make it go away. It appears that once you've voted, the potential names for the baby giraffe becomes owiueuowihgew).
In other giraffe related news, I can proudly announce that at http://www.onemilliongiraffes.com/ (still one of my very favourite websites that I, once again, recommend to absolutely everyone) one of the many giraffes I have contributed with was made “Giraffe of the day” yesterday, 1 March 2010.
It may or may not have been a deliberate strategy to
a) cheer me up; or
b) make me make more giraffes and advertize them on my blog, since it’s been a while
...(the latter is probably more realistic), but, either way, my giraffe has been singled out, AGAIN! Yay! This is a very exclusive company to be part of – of the 602 098 giraffes that so far have been uploaded to the site, only 264 have been picked to be giraffe of the day (and mine twice – wohoo!).
For the record, it did cheer me up =)
Have a giraffabulous day!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
On self-incrimination
Every now and then, you should google yourself.
(I took a break there, just to make sure you did.)
Find anything interesting?
I’m not a pathological self-googler, but I have done so with some irregularity over the past decade or so (have we had google for a decade yet? Was I really enlightened enough to think of the possibility of googling myself at the age of 14? [I was about to write “or that self-absorbed”, but then I read the number 14. Everyone is self-absorbed at 14… Not to pretend I’m not still self-absorbed. Is self-absorbed even a word?] And even if I was enlightened/self-absorbed enough, if google existed and if all other necessary conditions applied, would there have been much of a point?)
The answer to the final question firmly tucked into the parenthesis, is no. If you googled me ten years ago (still assuming google existed), you wouldn’t have found squant (for my pride’s sake, let me assure you that I know what “squant” is. Why? Because I googled it [*pride crumbles*]. You should too – it’s pretty entertaining. I can take another break if you want).
The reason you wouldn’t have found squant when googling me ten years ago (apart from the two obvious ones – a) squant hadn’t even been discovered; and b) you probably didn’t know me, so you had no idea I was googlable. To you, I was owiueuowihgew – I really must try to limit my parentheses, they are becoming very difficult to follow… It’s got to do with my lack of opportunity to use them in my daily writing, methinks… I’ll just start the sentence over for this one, though…)
The primary reason you wouldn’t have found squant when googling me ten years ago is that I hadn’t done squant. I was 14, I had barely an idea that there was a world out there! Fortunately, I have come a little way since then.
A few years ago, when googling me, you’d find a few references to some school work, most notably a project submitted to a competition I participated in. I didn’t win, but my group’s work was displayed online nevertheless. A fairly decent online exposure.
With time, more hits appeared. My Facebook page is there (though it’s a closed profile, so no peek-a-peeking). A few references to stuff I’ve done at the university. Another project I participated in, this time a more serious one with actual employers. Definitely one I am proud to have attached to my name online. Last summer a new hit appeared, possibly the most prestigious-looking one. It’s there, out in the cybersphere, that I’ve been a lecturer at the University of Oslo. Granted, if you actually click on the link, it will reveal that it is for one day only, but perhaps people won’t be bothered to click?
There are also a few non-“professional” hits that I, nevertheless, am quite proud of. Most notably is the link to the Burrow – my notorious writers group – which in these days is hosting a February/Valentine’s feature without me. I am VERY sad to not being able to participate (stupid stupid stupid thesis), but I am also VERY impressed at the amount of work the few of them that were able to participate put down. The result can be found, as usual, at http://www.the-burrow.org/, and I highly recommend everyone to stop by. Whether you prefer sappy, sexy, sarcastic, sadistic, sensual, sympathetic, (in)sane or sweet drabbles, you’ll find it there.
The link between the Burrow and my name, however, isn’t entirely unproblematic to me, personally. It took a long time for me to be comfortable with telling people that I like to write. (Oops, I just told YOU, didn’t I..?) Having a blog, I guess, pretty much lets that particular cat out of the bag, but, as you may have noticed, I don’t write under my real name. Granted, my pseudonym is one that has been sticking with me for a long time, so a lot of people know the true identity of Cruella Collett. But there is a much larger quantity of people in my life who has never even heard of this Cruella-person (they only know the black-and-white puppy killer. I swear we’re not related). I don’t go out of my way to keep my two identities separate, but I don’t actively try to reunite them either.
Which brings me to the final point of my self-googling adventure (you were expecting that all my digressions had made me forget my conclusion altogether, hadn’t you? Well, that is the difference between a regular digressionist and me, the digressionista…). When I, for no reason at all, typed my own name (not my pseudonym) into google, the VERY first hit that came up was my blog.
Huh.
That’s weird, I thought. How and why is my (actual) name linked to my fake-name written blog?
Then I started to consider the implications. It has become more and more common for people to google each other. Now, anyone who knows my name can find my blog. That is a little scary, to be frank, and it certainly makes me want to consider what it is I am posting here. Not that I am overly controversial, but you know. No more scandalous slandering of identifiable people…
Secondly, it is also very common for employers to google their potential employees. Very soon (or not so soon, depending on whether I manage to finish my thesis on time) I will be in the position of seeking employment. Is there anything in my blog making me less attractive for a potential employer? Perhaps they don’t hire people who make the Tower Bridge in gingerbread?
Ultimately, I don’t really think my blogging will be a problem, professionally or personally. But it did annoy me a little bit that, without my knowledge or approval, my two personas had been interlinked. So I did some research.
And what did I find?
The culprit is to be found right here. Me! I did it. I incriminated myself. I posted my actual name on my blog! Why would I do that? Now it will forever (or until google is eradicated by an electromagnetic pulse in 2012) be linked with my blogginess (blog meeting silliness equals blogginess). Was this the result of some unconscious desire to end the schism that have been hindering the “professional” me from bonding with the “creative” me? This isn’t really a plausible theory, however, since the “professional” me isn’t all that professional. Actually, the “professional” me is fairly creative in its unprofessionalism. Right. Such a good idea to tell potential employers googling me that I am unprofessional…
Oh, well. It’s out there now. Mari, meet Cruella. You were separated at birth, but now you are from now on going to live together like twins. The conjoined kind.
(I took a break there, just to make sure you did.)
Find anything interesting?
I’m not a pathological self-googler, but I have done so with some irregularity over the past decade or so (have we had google for a decade yet? Was I really enlightened enough to think of the possibility of googling myself at the age of 14? [I was about to write “or that self-absorbed”, but then I read the number 14. Everyone is self-absorbed at 14… Not to pretend I’m not still self-absorbed. Is self-absorbed even a word?] And even if I was enlightened/self-absorbed enough, if google existed and if all other necessary conditions applied, would there have been much of a point?)
The answer to the final question firmly tucked into the parenthesis, is no. If you googled me ten years ago (still assuming google existed), you wouldn’t have found squant (for my pride’s sake, let me assure you that I know what “squant” is. Why? Because I googled it [*pride crumbles*]. You should too – it’s pretty entertaining. I can take another break if you want).
The reason you wouldn’t have found squant when googling me ten years ago (apart from the two obvious ones – a) squant hadn’t even been discovered; and b) you probably didn’t know me, so you had no idea I was googlable. To you, I was owiueuowihgew – I really must try to limit my parentheses, they are becoming very difficult to follow… It’s got to do with my lack of opportunity to use them in my daily writing, methinks… I’ll just start the sentence over for this one, though…)
The primary reason you wouldn’t have found squant when googling me ten years ago is that I hadn’t done squant. I was 14, I had barely an idea that there was a world out there! Fortunately, I have come a little way since then.
A few years ago, when googling me, you’d find a few references to some school work, most notably a project submitted to a competition I participated in. I didn’t win, but my group’s work was displayed online nevertheless. A fairly decent online exposure.
With time, more hits appeared. My Facebook page is there (though it’s a closed profile, so no peek-a-peeking). A few references to stuff I’ve done at the university. Another project I participated in, this time a more serious one with actual employers. Definitely one I am proud to have attached to my name online. Last summer a new hit appeared, possibly the most prestigious-looking one. It’s there, out in the cybersphere, that I’ve been a lecturer at the University of Oslo. Granted, if you actually click on the link, it will reveal that it is for one day only, but perhaps people won’t be bothered to click?
There are also a few non-“professional” hits that I, nevertheless, am quite proud of. Most notably is the link to the Burrow – my notorious writers group – which in these days is hosting a February/Valentine’s feature without me. I am VERY sad to not being able to participate (stupid stupid stupid thesis), but I am also VERY impressed at the amount of work the few of them that were able to participate put down. The result can be found, as usual, at http://www.the-burrow.org/, and I highly recommend everyone to stop by. Whether you prefer sappy, sexy, sarcastic, sadistic, sensual, sympathetic, (in)sane or sweet drabbles, you’ll find it there.
The link between the Burrow and my name, however, isn’t entirely unproblematic to me, personally. It took a long time for me to be comfortable with telling people that I like to write. (Oops, I just told YOU, didn’t I..?) Having a blog, I guess, pretty much lets that particular cat out of the bag, but, as you may have noticed, I don’t write under my real name. Granted, my pseudonym is one that has been sticking with me for a long time, so a lot of people know the true identity of Cruella Collett. But there is a much larger quantity of people in my life who has never even heard of this Cruella-person (they only know the black-and-white puppy killer. I swear we’re not related). I don’t go out of my way to keep my two identities separate, but I don’t actively try to reunite them either.
Which brings me to the final point of my self-googling adventure (you were expecting that all my digressions had made me forget my conclusion altogether, hadn’t you? Well, that is the difference between a regular digressionist and me, the digressionista…). When I, for no reason at all, typed my own name (not my pseudonym) into google, the VERY first hit that came up was my blog.
Huh.
That’s weird, I thought. How and why is my (actual) name linked to my fake-name written blog?
Then I started to consider the implications. It has become more and more common for people to google each other. Now, anyone who knows my name can find my blog. That is a little scary, to be frank, and it certainly makes me want to consider what it is I am posting here. Not that I am overly controversial, but you know. No more scandalous slandering of identifiable people…
Secondly, it is also very common for employers to google their potential employees. Very soon (or not so soon, depending on whether I manage to finish my thesis on time) I will be in the position of seeking employment. Is there anything in my blog making me less attractive for a potential employer? Perhaps they don’t hire people who make the Tower Bridge in gingerbread?
Ultimately, I don’t really think my blogging will be a problem, professionally or personally. But it did annoy me a little bit that, without my knowledge or approval, my two personas had been interlinked. So I did some research.
And what did I find?
The culprit is to be found right here. Me! I did it. I incriminated myself. I posted my actual name on my blog! Why would I do that? Now it will forever (or until google is eradicated by an electromagnetic pulse in 2012) be linked with my blogginess (blog meeting silliness equals blogginess). Was this the result of some unconscious desire to end the schism that have been hindering the “professional” me from bonding with the “creative” me? This isn’t really a plausible theory, however, since the “professional” me isn’t all that professional. Actually, the “professional” me is fairly creative in its unprofessionalism. Right. Such a good idea to tell potential employers googling me that I am unprofessional…
Oh, well. It’s out there now. Mari, meet Cruella. You were separated at birth, but now you are from now on going to live together like twins. The conjoined kind.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
On the power of the Internet
Before I started this blog a little over a month ago (happy onemonthaversary to me!), I struggled a little to find a catchy title (seeing what I came up with, you might not be surprised to hear that I struggled). When the word “giraffability” struck me, I googled it to make sure it wasn’t already a word that I simply had missed out on – one of those huge vocabulary glitches that sometimes just happens. Google came up with one hit, directing me to a soccer (sorry, football. Must. Not. Turn. Completely. American…) fan site, discussing a player that was tall and lanky. There is absolutely no chance I have visited this website before, and thus I can say with 100 % certainty that I came up with this word quite separately from the football lover. As long as there were only the two of us out there that had made up this word, I was fine with it. I took giraffability to my heart and used it in my blog title.
Now, for some reason I decided to google "giraffability" again today (this is the sort of mindless thing you’ll find me doing when I am avoiding the fact that there is a great big master’s thesis waiting for me to write it). In 0.11 seconds google came up with "about" 388 hits.
I must admit this surprised me a little. Yes, I made my blog googlable (a word I did not make up – or rather – I did, but I assumed someone else already had, and true enough – if you google "googlable", 0.5 seconds later you’ll get "about" 65 500 hits, including one that directs you to a Wiktionary page complete with etymology). I made my blog googlable, but I didn’t expect this to have much more impact than the fact that if you google “The Giraffability of Digressions” you would get a hit (in all possible meanings *snicker*).
Many of the 388 hits (I didn’t check them all, but I did look at a few) are indeed links either to this blog, or to blogs of people who have been so generous as to include me in their blog roll. One hit took me to a neat little page I didn’t know existed – Networked Blogs apparently lists all its blogs according to topic, and mine is number one of the “Top 50 blogs in: giraffes” (though in total there only are three, so I’m not sure the accomplishment is all that great…). One of the hits still leads to the football site.
But then there are about 300 others that I couldn’t quite figure out why would pop up in that search. They led to everything from fraggle rock merchandise stores to a website for pictures of pirate ships. I looked at a few of these pages, but could find no reference to “giraffability” on them. Then it occurred to me that there was one common denominator – these websites all displayed google ads. Apparently, google advertizes my blog on websites with subjects similar to those I address in the blog. Since the ads change quite quickly (I assume), they are not displayed on the actual websites anymore, but searches still find the original locations. This explains why my investigation stranded on assumptions instead of hard evidence. I am pretty sure I am correct, though. Now all I need is to figure out whether I think this is totally awesome, or whether it just freaks me out.
The fact that anything is googlable in 2009 is both amazing – what a resource! – and scary, because it does give a sense of lack of control (science fiction is, after all, best appreciated when it remains fictional). You can find details about everyone and everything on the internet (which my friend, Galen, pointed out with a warning yesterday). Even my 86 year old grandfather – which has never been online in his life, and for whom the Internet is only a vague idea he has no desire to grasp – is googleable. I spent some time this summer looking into some family history, and in the process I stumbled across records of my grandfather’s birth, confirmation and marriage, plus a video of him speaking at a local, public event. When I showed this to him he was astonished, though I doubt it made him appreciate the Internet.
Regardless of my grandfather’s lack of conviction, the power of the Internet really is quite impressive. It makes me feel like challenging it , or rather, challenging you (ironically this challenge goes out with the help of the Internet) – is there anything left that can’t be googled? And don’t say "owiueuowihgew" or something like that (which should be googlable within short time, since I have been spreading it all over the net before finishing this sentence. Just trying to prove a point…) – I mean something real. Any takers?
Now, for some reason I decided to google "giraffability" again today (this is the sort of mindless thing you’ll find me doing when I am avoiding the fact that there is a great big master’s thesis waiting for me to write it). In 0.11 seconds google came up with "about" 388 hits.
I must admit this surprised me a little. Yes, I made my blog googlable (a word I did not make up – or rather – I did, but I assumed someone else already had, and true enough – if you google "googlable", 0.5 seconds later you’ll get "about" 65 500 hits, including one that directs you to a Wiktionary page complete with etymology). I made my blog googlable, but I didn’t expect this to have much more impact than the fact that if you google “The Giraffability of Digressions” you would get a hit (in all possible meanings *snicker*).
Many of the 388 hits (I didn’t check them all, but I did look at a few) are indeed links either to this blog, or to blogs of people who have been so generous as to include me in their blog roll. One hit took me to a neat little page I didn’t know existed – Networked Blogs apparently lists all its blogs according to topic, and mine is number one of the “Top 50 blogs in: giraffes” (though in total there only are three, so I’m not sure the accomplishment is all that great…). One of the hits still leads to the football site.
But then there are about 300 others that I couldn’t quite figure out why would pop up in that search. They led to everything from fraggle rock merchandise stores to a website for pictures of pirate ships. I looked at a few of these pages, but could find no reference to “giraffability” on them. Then it occurred to me that there was one common denominator – these websites all displayed google ads. Apparently, google advertizes my blog on websites with subjects similar to those I address in the blog. Since the ads change quite quickly (I assume), they are not displayed on the actual websites anymore, but searches still find the original locations. This explains why my investigation stranded on assumptions instead of hard evidence. I am pretty sure I am correct, though. Now all I need is to figure out whether I think this is totally awesome, or whether it just freaks me out.
The fact that anything is googlable in 2009 is both amazing – what a resource! – and scary, because it does give a sense of lack of control (science fiction is, after all, best appreciated when it remains fictional). You can find details about everyone and everything on the internet (which my friend, Galen, pointed out with a warning yesterday). Even my 86 year old grandfather – which has never been online in his life, and for whom the Internet is only a vague idea he has no desire to grasp – is googleable. I spent some time this summer looking into some family history, and in the process I stumbled across records of my grandfather’s birth, confirmation and marriage, plus a video of him speaking at a local, public event. When I showed this to him he was astonished, though I doubt it made him appreciate the Internet.
Regardless of my grandfather’s lack of conviction, the power of the Internet really is quite impressive. It makes me feel like challenging it , or rather, challenging you (ironically this challenge goes out with the help of the Internet) – is there anything left that can’t be googled? And don’t say "owiueuowihgew" or something like that (which should be googlable within short time, since I have been spreading it all over the net before finishing this sentence. Just trying to prove a point…) – I mean something real. Any takers?
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