A second #cnftweet tweet emerges

Enlarged: http://bit.ly/pjHhMN

Another one of my beloved #cnftweet tweets emerged in the wild, this time tucked away inside a newsletter sent out by Creative Nonfiction, the same folks who published one of my tweets in issue #42 of Creative Nonfiction.  See earlier post from my blog.

I've had a lot of fun and met some great writers by participating in the #cnftweet corner of twitter.  The challenge is to say something true in 130 characters or less.  I retweet my favorites and get a few of my own tweets retweeted by others.

Give it a shot:

1. Get a twitter account.  It's free. 
2. Think of a creative way to tell a true story in 130 characters or less. 
3. Tweet it.
4. IMPORTANT: Tag the end of your tweet with the #cnftweet hashtag.  The hashtag ensures it will be seen by all the other #cnftweet 'ers.

My tweet from the newsletter is quoted below.  It was used to give people an idea of length and what the editors of Creative Nonfiction are looking for in a good #cnftweet.

talentdmrripley A door jam in a former life, the wall received the blaze like it was royalty, and Tedd's room was holding a waltz. #cnftweet

Published! Creative Nonfiction #42

Contributor copy (better than money).

I’ll take life in whatever little victories it decides to hand out.  So much of my time is spent wishing things would get better, even by the slightest.  So when something positive happens, whether it’s big or small, I take it as gift.  Why?  Because a win is a win. 

I received my contributor copy from Creative Nonfiction #42 yesterday in the mail.  I knew it was coming for a few days.  I found out on twitter last week. @talentdmrripley and nine others were featured in the Tiny Truths section.  The challenge: write a true story in 130 characters or less.  I'll save you the $10 cover price and quote my story for you below (I think that's okay):

"Yes... I was staring, trying to read the Bible verse tattooed on her upper breast.  The font was tasteful, and it was a long verse." May 23, 2011.

How cool is that?  It was validation, either for my talent or hard work.  Perhaps both.  My own words published!   

I won’t ruin this.  I won’t diminish this strange yet awesome feeling that I could win with my writing.  And, though my story is tiny (a mere two sentences; a tweet!), those who published my words walk as bold and proud as any among the giants of writing and publishing.  

My ship has sailed.  The chosen destination awaits my sweet arrival.  I cling to the side of that ship now, hanging on to the rails with a firm grip and determined resolve not to slip into the depths.  Not again.  Though I’m unable to relax on deck and mingle with “them,” at least the establishment knows I’m there now, and don’t mind the vicinity of my company.  

Crashing waves, weather, and rough seas still await my journey, but from the side of the boat none of them look as menacing as they once did.

3 reasons why BlackBerry works for me (now)

This is not a review; it's my opinion

Pick up the phone

First, and probably most important to me: they still give a damn about the phone half of the smart phone. Up until a few weeks ago, before I switched away from my HTC Droid Eris, it was damn near impossible to send or receive calls without it first pissing down its leg in fear. I tweaked the apps, made more space available by clearing up memory; basically did everything I could think of for the phone to lurk like a Jedi Knight just below the surface of everything else the smart phone was doing and be ready to strike hard and fast when necessary, to answer a call or make an emergency run for take-out food. But, I just couldn’t get there. My Droid Eris went into hiding and hoped no one would call.

I tested my theory out of frustration with my Droid Eris by switching back to the phone I had prior, over 18 months ago, to my BlackBerry Pearl. You know what? That Pearl was beat to hell and had next to no memory or screen real estate, but it was glorious as a phone. I went a few days and re-upped with Verizon to a BlackBerry Curve 3G.

Blackberry is my Jedi now. It devours phone calls like Obi Wan devours trade federation battle droids (yes... I wrote that): smoothly, precisely, and swiftly. No issues there anymore. Not saying that iPhone is better or worse in that department––I couldn’t say; never used an iPhone––or that the 27 Google phones don’t have adequate performance. They probably do. It’s just my gut feeling that BlackBerry still cares a little more about call quality than the sexy newcomers.

Battery to spare

It seems that no smart phone is safe from serious complaints about battery life. It makes sense. The things are always online, always making or checking status updates on Twitter and Facebook, checking email, foursquaring your followers into a slow and painful death by boredom, banking, shooting video of your cat’s amazing cat life, searching on the go, texting friends, oh... and talking to people. That’s a lot of demand, wouldn’t you agree?

Manufacturers give you barely enough juice in the battery to see you through a typical weekday, if you practice “moderate usage” and don’t use your phone for stupid stuff, i.e. the cool stuff. But that’s not realistic; of course you’re going to use the phone for cool stuff, because you’re paying extra for the “data” package. Frankly, our batteries aren’t up to the challenge of the data package. So we trickle in the car, trickle in the office, and trickle off a buddy’s laptop hoping to make it long enough for the next status update, text, or call.

Back to my BlackBerry Pearl theory, I was astonished how long the battery lasted in that thing. All day (7a-11p) and then some. And to be fair, I had Facebook, Twitter, sporadic phone calls, texting, and four email accounts doing their thing all day. Normal for me. How did I forget about that while using the Eris? I could stare at the screen on that thing for a minute and almost see that pathetic green bar shrinking pixel by bloody pixel. To get through a work day (8a-5p) meant trickling. If you planned to go out that night, trickle some more beforehand.

I hear people complain about battery life in iPhones, Droids, Windows Mobile Phone Phone Phone thingamajig, and even BlackBerry. It’s possible, I suspect, that while we’re disappointed in performance, we’ve all really settled for far short of mediocre anymore when it comes to on-the-go stamina from our devices. Smart phone battery life sucks, much like laptop battery life sucks. Get over it. Manufacturers inflate performance figures and real world usage knocks those figures in the toilet.

It’s 3:15 PM, my BlackBerry battery is at 73% capacity. Draw your own conclusions from that. My conclusion is that I’m incredibly satisfied with the out-of-the-box battery life of my BlackBerry Curve (and was amazed at the almost four year old original battery in the Pearl while I re-tasked it for a week).

Social barricade

Lastly, of why BlackBerry works for me (now) is this: my real life doesn’t need to be replicated 100 percent to my social networks. The two are connected, of course. But I don’t need a device that keeps me on the bleeding edge of what’s technologically possible in the social networking game. I just need a device that offers a few conduits between the two. I look at iPhones and they’re amazing pieces of gear. Throw in the iPad for that matter too. Google devices are keeping pace and extending boundaries too (without getting into a huge argument about which platform is superior). BlackBerry is not innovating much comparatively, and is quickly losing market share to both Apple and Google. How that ends for RIM, we’ll see.

But the point is this: for these magnificent pieces of cutting edge hardware from Apple and Droid to soar in brilliance and utterly blow your mind you must commit yourself to wasting a ton of time on them. Sure, you can waste time on a BlackBerry too. However, while the others challenge you to load up their devices with goodies and apps to explore and document the fast-paced blur of your life, BlackBerry re-introduces something many of us have all but forgotten: focus.

Thinking too much about too little

Are you growing tired, like me, of rich and famous people complaining about the burden of being adored by millions and the burden of having too much spare cash.

I don't get why UFC is so huge. Pumped up, psychotic, sanctioned whalin' on each other by knuckle-dragging mouth breathers. I'll never order a Pay Per View of that "sport." On the other hand, I'll probably never order NFL Sunday Ticket either. And I love the NFL. Maybe it's an acquired taste.

Your dog is not my problem. Just as my dog is not YOUR problem. Put up a fence or buy a chain for pissakes.

You can take folks out of the trailer park but you can't take the trailer park out of some folks.

Really great neighbors are rarely seen in the wild. If you have more than a few, congratulations. You've overachieved.

If you update all the time about the same three topics on facebook or twitter, then rest assured you're boring the hell out of me, and possibly your real friends too. I don't care about your stuff. Show me the stuff you're made of.

Why doesn't the middle class become a new base in the political landscape. Certainly there's a lot of disagreement in that approach: left - right; liberal - conservative; pro-choice - pro-life; war - peace; big government - small government. However, as the backbone of the country in almost every measurable respect, the middle class feels the most adversity most directly from the ideas being batted back and forth like beach balls in Washington D.C. It's a game or job to the politicians and we don't really get it anyway once all the spin is done. Let's agree and acknowledge that we can have our own fringes and hot button topics; but more importantly, since we'll always be picking up the check, let's always do what's best for US in the process.

My taxes are high enough, thanks.

If you say you're a social media guru, I'm assuming you just got laid off. And, that the corporate suits don't get it. And you can stop acting like the expert already.

It's your civic duty to discourage douchebaggery in its infancy. If you see baglings (pre-douchers) and/or questionable behavior in your sons that will only lead to inflame this public nuisance further, then you have my permission to intercede... and I've got your back.

I wonder what I'll be amazed at when I'm a pasty old codger.

Sometimes I think Generation X -- for whatever reason -- is ill-equipped for meaningful relationships. I have no stats or research to back that up.

Further on Generation X, as a generation we were never called on to save our country from impending doom. Not like our fathers in Cold War tension and Vietnam, our grandfathers in World War II, or our great grandfathers in World War I. What exactly have we lost on a generational scale? What will emerge as a cherished leftover from what was essentially never lost? When the bell is rung, for whatever the reason, will Generation X answer the call? Is our legacy, if not the birthplace, then the realization of technology as a way of life and pillar of culture, socialistic bents, and taking me-first-beliefs to soaring new heights?

God Bless our brave and wholly volunteer military. To all who have ever worn a uniform for freedom, thank you. To those who have died in that service, my thanks will never repay what you've given in blood.

Whatever you care about is just another hue in the rainbow to everyone else.

Sometime in the evening if you look at the star Alpha Centauri A (link), that shining spec of light took 4.3 years to reach your eyeball. Others 100s of years, and still others 1000s. You're in for a total mind freak if you keep going, because some of the stars you see with the naked eye aren't even stars at all but entire galaxies a mere bazillion light years away. And they might not even exist anymore. Feel small yet?

I hope my kids hate me for all the right reasons.

I wrestle daily with spirituality. A friend recently pointed out I'd experienced a lot of religion and not enough truth. Anymore, I go out of my way not to write about the infinite, as my mind and ability to grasp such thoughts is finite indeed. All the best church cliches and Sunday school rhymes eventually become faded words and fruit not worth picking any longer.

If I see you first, I'm hiding. In the words of the George Costanza: "It's me not you."

Why are thoughts always random? By the time it's written out, edited and made ready for prime time, it hardly seems so random anymore.

Maybe more some other time.

Connecting the dots

The dream always plays out the same. I'm traveling with my family and arrive at a random place with other familiar faces. Social networking friend is there too. We say hello and I immediately withdraw because even in dreams Chris will be Chris. It goes on for a bit, and I can see the disappointment building in a face because we thought the connection meant something to both of us, but not this time. Not today. We don't speak at all which can only mean the connection meant nothing.

Needing to analyze every last detail, I'm sensing a small problem. The place I'm at in life is lacking in real, personal connections. I do not have many friends (very few, count-them-on-one-hand close and dear friendships), I'm not very outgoing, and more or less isolate myself for reasons that might require a small fortune to hash out in therapy. It makes me a very lonely bloke, socially. And I lack the courage most days to overcome it.

However, social networking sites like twitter and facebook have proven nice, pro-Chris settings to engage with people, connect, and thrive, albeit behind the magic of rose-colored glasses made of pixels. I have made 100s of connections with people, the core of which are some I've known most of my life on the book, and still others I've only casually known not more than several months via tweets.

These connections have value to me because what is lacking in the arena of normal living where I'm required to exist with other skin jobs, I've uncovered new ties in abundance thanks to technology. In their own ways, these people are all amazing to me. And further, I'm really drawn to a handful of them.

In weird, social networking ways, they matter to me. And if given the chance, I would very much like to call them my friends. Is that sick? Can someone explain why it's embarrassing to admit that?

A couple of my really good real friends do social networking too. And all we've done, essentially, is add a new dynamic to already thriving relationships. We're largely up to speed on the details of each others' lives and the social networking angle just provides more convenient ways to touch base. I've smelled their homes, tasted their cooking, heard them laugh, watched them smile, held their newborns, hugged them at parties, grieved with them at funerals, and sweated with them through weddings.

Real friends. Real life.

The technology hatched bunch of connections are a "see only crowd." I get to read what they care about, and in turn, get to decide if I care about that too. They might post pictures and leave links to their blogs, all geared at revealing greater insights into their lives. I'll update and they may or may not have thoughts on whatever the hell I care about.

Does that mean I know them? No. Not really. But, the English language is such that in 140 characters or less I'm pretty good a picking up certain attitudes, feelings, prejudices, thrilling moments, moods, aspirations, cultural tastes, bad decisions, lucky breaks, hard times and good times.

Life happens in the social-networking universe. And like real relationships, a certain evolution takes place at which the connections become stronger or weaker, more honest, or even more honestly repulsive.

It's just damn crazy to say I know them -- now or ever. The brain being the brain, however, it just wants to connect the dots and fill-in the blanks, or paint mental pictures of people and call them friends based on what? Status updates?

So, I'm left with a few real people friends, and a small group of social network followers(?) that I share a somewhat "you enrich my day, and hopefully, I enrich your day" give and take arrangement.

This is an equitable situation. I think... Or is it ... ?

I catch myself discounting the social networking bunch back into the bargain bin of casual acquaintances: not too hard to find, not too hard to relate to, and not too hard to converse with because a computer screen and the world-wide-web provide an adequate insulation to real life interaction. And that's a good fit for Chris. It's a safe place to mingle.

But a few of them... there might be something there, and I might really like to meet them.

So, again, why do I deflate their importance when all I really want to do is call them my friends. I need them. I really enjoy their company, and look forward catching up with them and seeing what they're up to.

Maybe, it's hard to admit that my real life might not be rich enough, socially, so now I'm desperately giving substantial amounts of weight to the connections of strangers that I can't ever really know.

Historically, my most rewarding relationships were seeded after risking the safety of my comfort zone. In college, I deliberated for weeks before asking a dude in class if he wanted to play tennis sometime. He was very good; a lot better than me. I'm sure the tennis was boring for him and thrilling for me. But soon enough, a friendship was born. And it's a connection that I still count amongst my most precious.

It makes me wonder if there's any such purchase in the soil of social networking.