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Oct. 7th, 2003 07:57 amWe're in the midst of a glorious spell of Indian summer here, with the warm tender sunny days and the cool damp nights and the late afternoons where the air itself seems to glow golden. The color-change is just getting into swing, and although it might be less brilliant than usual, due to the drought, there is still much loveliness to be seen.
This would be a marvelous day to take off work and wander around with my camera, but alas, meetings meetings meetings. I'm striving to maintain my zen while riding the roller-coaster of administrative change, and have done a pretty good job of it so far. But over the next few months my time is going to be more pressured; a shame, because I think my brain is finally getting squared away to write again, and then there's that silly vid that I keep poking at intermittently. But at least I have ZCon and Escapade dates firmly marked off on my calendar.
I greatly enjoyed Hal's depiction of how she conceptualizes the difference between list-space and LJ-space; I'm always fascinated by the metaphors and visualizations people use to make sense of intangible/virtual phenomena. I think of lists pretty much as she does, but my model of the LJ world is more a matter of -- well, picture a large and complex three-dimensional myriad of Venn diagrams, circles (like the one Hal drew) overlapping, interlinking, sometimes densely and sometimes just barely touching. And the flow of content is, to me, not a linear pass-through, but an immensely complex tendrilling swirl, like when you drop a blurp of red dye into a beaker of water that's always in slight agitation.
When I click into the "Update your journal" pane, there's always this moment when I'm thinking over what I want to say, choosing words, and I can almost feel that intangible network of connection into which I'm about to drop these sentences; I run my fingers, so to speak, over the strands, and feel them vibrate. It is, as Hal says, a mesh made of people, almost none of whom I see oftener than once or twice a year, if that. But it feels every bit as real to me as the equally intangible connections of gravity-holds-me-in-my-chair, or going-to-this-office-means-dollars-get-put-in-my-bank-account. I think about this stuff on days like yesterday, when LJ is acting all whimsical and neurasthenic, and I realize how much I rely on it, how much time I spend in this phantasma-city made up of electrons and words, how many people I'm connected to here.
Ack, time to run to work. Meetings meetings meetings.
This would be a marvelous day to take off work and wander around with my camera, but alas, meetings meetings meetings. I'm striving to maintain my zen while riding the roller-coaster of administrative change, and have done a pretty good job of it so far. But over the next few months my time is going to be more pressured; a shame, because I think my brain is finally getting squared away to write again, and then there's that silly vid that I keep poking at intermittently. But at least I have ZCon and Escapade dates firmly marked off on my calendar.
I greatly enjoyed Hal's depiction of how she conceptualizes the difference between list-space and LJ-space; I'm always fascinated by the metaphors and visualizations people use to make sense of intangible/virtual phenomena. I think of lists pretty much as she does, but my model of the LJ world is more a matter of -- well, picture a large and complex three-dimensional myriad of Venn diagrams, circles (like the one Hal drew) overlapping, interlinking, sometimes densely and sometimes just barely touching. And the flow of content is, to me, not a linear pass-through, but an immensely complex tendrilling swirl, like when you drop a blurp of red dye into a beaker of water that's always in slight agitation.
When I click into the "Update your journal" pane, there's always this moment when I'm thinking over what I want to say, choosing words, and I can almost feel that intangible network of connection into which I'm about to drop these sentences; I run my fingers, so to speak, over the strands, and feel them vibrate. It is, as Hal says, a mesh made of people, almost none of whom I see oftener than once or twice a year, if that. But it feels every bit as real to me as the equally intangible connections of gravity-holds-me-in-my-chair, or going-to-this-office-means-dollars-get-put-in-my-bank-account. I think about this stuff on days like yesterday, when LJ is acting all whimsical and neurasthenic, and I realize how much I rely on it, how much time I spend in this phantasma-city made up of electrons and words, how many people I'm connected to here.
Ack, time to run to work. Meetings meetings meetings.