Is Social Media Killing Communication?

I’m “plugged in”. You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Blogger, and Tumblr.  I have accounts on LinkedIn and other such places.  Much of my life is an open book.  I’m sure there are folks who believe that I put too much out there, but I am very keenly aware of what I share.

Being active on these sites has allowed me to stay in contact with friends across the globe.  It’s allowed me to make friends and acquaintances across the country.  I feel well-informed on topics that interest me.  Typically, I enjoy the time I spend networking, communicating and learning in these realms.  Lately though, I’ve begun to question the detrimental effect of social media on “real communication.”

My first red flag came in the vein of cyber bullying.  I’m almost 40 years old, and yet I’m still dealing with the mean girl syndrome.  I don’t know if boys can fully appreciate the concept of mean girls.  These are women who purposely pull down other ladies for the sake of feeling better about themselves.  It’s rampant in middle and high schools, and it’s something that many women never get away from.  Social media gives these girls an outlet to be venomous on a large scale.  No longer is it spreading rumors in the hallways and passing notes, you can now post subversive tweets and status updates for your 452 followers to read.  It’s unnerving.  Instead of talking face-to-face and resolving the concern, let’s passive-aggressively blast someone on the interwebs.

While I was still contemplating the detrimental effects of the mean girls, I started becoming more keenly aware of the concept of “online persona”. Now, don’t think I’m that dense.  I know everyone who has an online presence puts out there what they want people to know or think.  What I mean are people who have multiple online personas.  They pretend to be someone else, and not just in one place either.  Now I know for years authors have been using pseudonyms for various reasons, but how many Twitter accounts does one really need?  And how do you keep up with it all?  Do you know who the real you is?  How can you maintain the duplicity?  I barely have time for my single account.  I'd have to toss out my kids, work or training if I tried to do anymore.

I think the most concerning piece for me came this morning in the form of an email epiphany.  And I am incredibly guilty of this one--using my social media to send a communicate with someone. I don't mean posting on their wall or sending a direct message.  Instead of texting directly, emailing or calling, I write a blog, post a song, or a veiled phrase that communicates my meaning, with those “not in the know” none the wiser.  Now this began as a fun game.  It tested my quickness, my ability to discern and encrypt and I enjoy the smile that many of those messages give me. But when I had a blog sent to me this morning, I realized how skewed my reality has become.  I used to believe I was a great conversationalist and that I was easily approachable.  Has that changed?  Have I neglected it in favor of the quick and easy approach? 

Without a doubt, social media, social networking is here to stay.  I think the real test is to figure out what role it plays.  Is it your main means of communication?  Is your digital world your new reality?  How can the two be blended in a beneficial way? I can say this for me, after I hit publish on this, I’ll be picking up the phone to address the blog. And I won't be posting a link to this one on Twitter . . . it is what it is, you know?

Just Close Your Eyes

I love back to school time.  As a perpetual student, I get giddy when the school supply displays go up at Target.  I get nostalgic about riding my bike up to the junior high or high school to get my class schedule and decorate my locker.  It's so, so much fun. And then to think back about the start of school when I was in college!  That meant sorority rush, parties, after hours, and football games.  Oh yeah, and class too!
I think I had a pretty unique "get ready for college" experience.  When I applied to University of Illinois and then signed my acceptance letter, it was sight unseen.  I had never been to campus.  I had been to my second tier schools--Illinois Wesleyan, ISU, and Western.  But I had never set foot in Champaign-Urbana.  That didn't matter to me.  It was the best public university in the state and that's where I decided to go.  I made it to campus that spring, but by that time, the decision was made.

You see, my parents didn't go to college.  My brothers took some classes at the community college, but never went to a four year school.  I think Mom and Dad realized I would get my degree, but in their mind probably pictured BAC, followed by SIUE.  I know they knew I applied; they had to write the checks to go with the applications.  But I think they assumed when it came down to it, I'd stay home.  So when the housing and financial aid forms came, I filled them out myself as best as I could.  I had some help because my cousin was going as well.  She and I had decided to be roommates and her parents had taken her on all the college visits.  I at least knew which dorms to put on my list. 

Eventually orientation weekend arrived.  My parents and I went to campus and I think that's when it finally hit them that it was a done deal.  I was going to school at a campus three hours away with 30,000 other kids.  Plus I was rushing a sorority.  I'm sure they wondered who put all these ideas in my head and how were they going to pay for it.  I remember the thought hitting me that weekend, "What the hell have I done?"  I only know about six people here.  The campus is larger than my hometown.  The dorms aren't air conditioned.  And the big one, these kids are smarter than me--I'm going to have to study. *GULP*

I've done that many times in my life, forged ahead with a plan with full realization of what the consequences may be.  In other words, closed my eyes, jumped and prayed for a big splash or soft landing.  Sometimes my prayers were answered, and sometimes it was a bellyflop or broken ankle.  But I can honestly say, I've never regretted it.  Sure, if I had taken time to think things through I may have avoided some heartache, tears or wasted money.  I would have also missed once in a lifetime experiences, great friends, and stories that I tell over and over again.  I believe in dealing with the consequences of my actions rather than agonizing over what might have been.  I love the quote that's been floating around the interwebs for years:

Dance like nobody's watching

Love like you've never been hurt

Sing like nobody's listening

Live like it's heaven on earth.

Life is too short to live with regrets and missed opportunities.  Make your opportunities happen.

Imperviousness versus Strength

Foreword: I put this on entry ice after I wrote it because I am afraid that people in my life will take it personally when it's not meant that way.  I hate girl drama and I think it's immature and unacceptable to call anyone out in my blog.  While I am shy, I will buck up and voice my feelings when I feel someone is wronging me . . . just ask Klucker.  I wrote this on a day that I needed a pity party, but in accordance with my typical m.o. I sucked it up and dealt with it, only straying from my normal behavior by gorging on mozzarella sticks and diet coke at lunch.  So I fully admit that often times I'm at fault because I am a pleaser who won't tell people what I need or want.  Instead I'll smile and say "sure chocolate cake is fine" when I truly, truly prefer white.

I watch television.  And I like to watch television.  So everyone out there who thinks that means I'm weak-minded, lacking intellectual capability, or just plain fluffy can stop reading now.  I don't get to sit down and watch my favorite shows very often, so I am a frequent DVR user.  That also means I am weeks upon weeks behind in watching one of my favorite shows, one of which is Bones.  The episode I watched last night probably aired six to eight weeks ago.  In the closing scene, Booth and Brennan are talking about the possibility that they may eventually date.  Brennan tells Booth that she is becoming strong.  She goes on to say she used to be impervious, meaning she was unable to be hurt, but now she is becoming strong because she is losing her imperviousness.

The scene got me thinking about how we (the ubiquitous we) treat people.  Is strength sometimes confused for imperviousness?  I think about my relationships, what do I take for granted?  Do I extol bad behavior because I assume it doesn't bother the receiver?  Is that person really just incredibly strong, so they use resolve to power through the hurtfulness?

Several years ago I made a conscious decision to have more friends.  I was at a point in my life where I was a new mother, working 60-80 hours a week, and one crisis away from therapy and Zoloft.  I had (have) a supportive family, but sometimes a body just needs girlfriends.  As someone who is painfully shy--I know that's hard to believe--I put myself out there.  I interjected myself into uncomfortable situations and tried new things so that I could meet new people and hopefully make friends.  For the most part, my risks have paid off.  I can't say the trip has been tailwinds and sunshine the whole way.

A couple of months ago, a friend referred to me as a "bootstrap girl."  What she meant was that I'm someone who doesn't wallow in my problems, instead I pull myself up and attack them.  That can be a good or bad thing.  It's good in the fact that I get things accomplished.  I don't sit around and wait for three boats to rescue me while I sit on the roof of my flooded house; I build my own raft and set sail for dry ground.  One of the bad things though, I think, is that people around me don't realize how fragile I sometimes am.  They're unaware that my feelings are easily hurt when they don't return calls or emails.  They don't know that I need them to defend me when I'm attacked by mean girls.  They didn't see the stress I was under as I job-hunted and looked for ways to maintain my family's normalcy.  I think, to some degree, they think me impervious. 

While there are days I wish I was impervious, I think feeling sadness or stress or grief is good.  Without knowing how bad it can be, I would never enjoy the good times I typically have.  That being said, I sometimes long for acknowledgement that some days my life sucks too.  I sometimes need to have a pity party without feeling that someone is going to "one up" my tribulation.  I sometimes need chocolate chip cookie dough, a spoon, and a hug.

Taking Time to Enjoy the Ride

I'm a goal-oriented person. I decide what I want, I plan backwards and strategize and plot a course of action as to how to obtain my goal. I make sure I have short term benchmarks to stay on track and I adjust if necessary. This process typically has served me well both personally and professionally. There's very little I can't do if I set my mind to it.

Lately, I've been plagued by something though. I am typically in such a hurry to reach my goal (after all, good SMART goals are time bound) I don't enjoy my journey and reaching my short term strategies. And I think it's taking some of the fun of grabbing the silver ring.

I'll give you a cycling related example (big surprise!). As I've said before, I've been extremely focused on two goals this season, the state crit and MOBAR. I made a plan in December about what I would do to accomplish these goals. I rode my bike in nasty, cold weather. I rode in rain and wind. I spent hours on the trainer. I suffered through heat. I followed my workouts doing intervals and long rides. The state race came and I almost got it. My plan was sound, my own execution error is what's to blame. I was extremely disappointed. And trust me when I say I don't handle disappointment well.

I'm a professional developer, and I work extensively with adult learners, so I know and believe what Art Costa says about adults learning best through reflection. I love Jack Mezirow's (Columbia University) quote "A defining condition of being a human being is that we have to understand the meaning of our experience." Since April, I've been using my Monday morning runs and my blogs as my means of reflection. I critique my racing--fitness, strategy, and execution--and use the insights to help me get better, stronger, faster. Steve Austin watch out! I ran this past Monday morning and reflected. I pinpointed my strengths and weaknesses from the two races, but I still didn't feel much better about it. I didn't reach my goal. There was, is nothing I can do about it but try again next year. It wasn't until this morning that my thoughts changed.

One of the things that has been significantly different for me and my training over the past nine months is that I frequently ride with a group. My Saturday custom, when we don't have a race, has become for the women racers to head together. The Hub ride is the normal choice and we ebb and flow with our numbers. We ride, try to hold on with the boys through at least Geyer, and then settle in and spin together. We have breakfast, we ride more. It's a lot of fun. I have spent endless hours with Steph, Kate and Alice on these trips and never come away in a bad mood. I have a weeknight tradition as well--I spend an evening spinning and playing with my favorite tris. (That one is really amazing because I typically lament about multi-sporters poor handling skills!)

As I clicked in this morning, I realized that the fun of this bike season has been my journey: my hours with my friends, the epic, silly situations we create, the strange things we see and odd conversations we have. I missed my goal but I have gained so much more. You see, these three women, along with a whole lot more, have become my friends. They're my teammates on a different team. They're a big reason for my addiction to the bike. I've gotten so caught up in pursuit and achievement that I didn't truly appreciate the race I was winning all along.

I've set a new goal for myself. This one will be a truly long range achievement. My new goal is to enjoy my journey. I want to take time to notice how wonderful the short term strategies are and not miss out on the happiness they bring me.

10 Things I Learned From My Dad

Father's Day got me thinking yesterday. With some time alone on my bike, I had a lot of opportunity to reflect and think about my dad. I often think about him when I race, and wonder what he'd think of the craziness of a crit or cx race. I know he'd be proud that I'm even out there trying--he was stoked when I finished the MS 150, so I can only imagine how he would have felt when I got my win earlier this season. But on Father's Day, I thought about his legacy. What did he teach me that impact the way I live now? There are so many things, but I limited it to the first ten that came to mind. Some are life lessons, some are just practical, some are just pure Donnie Ray.

1. Every home should have a good hammer, Phillip's & flat head screw driver, needle nose pliers, duct tape and super glue. While my dad began his adult life wearing a tie, he retired a master mechanic. His skills came from high school shop class and trial and error. He was good with an engine or a piece of wood. (His electrical work did scared me a little.) He impressed on me the need to be able to do basic maintenance myself. There was no need to hire someone or need a man to do it--not his daughter. When we bought our first house in Soulard and it needed renovation, he was in heaven. He helped me spend a weekend trimming out a decorative window on our third floor, including holding my legs while I leaned through the stairwell to put the cornices on the other side.
2. Love literature. My dad finished high school, barely. He was a hands-on type guy. Classroom learning wasn't for him, but that didn't mean he wasn't well read. During his stint as a real estate agent and an insurance salesman, he had a lot of flexibility. During the summer months when it was hot (and we didn't have air conditioning) we spent countless hours at the library. And as I got older, I went back and read some of the novels I remember him reading then and I got the chance to pass on great reads to him. As he got older, I started buying hardcover books because the print was easier for him to read. I have to consciously stop myself from doing that because he's always in my head when I'm browsing books.
3. Diverse interests make a person interesting. This lesson I gleaned from watching my dad live life. He was at home in the woods, behind a camera, with his nose in a book, under a car, or walking through the art museum. I would venture to call him a modern day Renaissance man. His approach to life has guided me in keeping a broad range of interests.
4. It's always time for a good cup of coffee. (and piece of pork) My dad's tastes were simple. He was definitely a "meat and potatoes" eater, though he would humor me and try whatever I concocted in the kitchen--I think it was a relief just not to eat my mom's cooking. He started the day with a good cup of coffee and a bacon or sausage sandwich. He kept the coffee flowing through the day. It was common that he was sipping on a fully leaded up at 9PM as well. The only time he deviated from this was during hot days when he was working, he'd still start and end with coffee though. And as for the pork, it won out over everything else, except maybe fried chicken.
5. The greatest reward for a parent is to see their child reach successes. The older I got, the deeper the conversations were between my dad and me. This is a direct statement he made to me. He told me the big accomplishments were wonderful, watching graduations, marriages, grandchildren being born. But little things were important too--my refrigerator having real food and not just milk and beer. He told me that the way I had grown up made him know that he was a good parent. That counts as one of the best compliments I have ever received.
6. Dull knives are dangerous. This was a practical directive from my father. When I was growing up, our kitchen knives could always split a hair. I think this came from his time hunting and butchering in Ava. I wish I would have learned from him how to use sharpening stone. He tried to teach me, but I never got it quite right. I have become as emphatic as he was about this.
7. Don't make promises you can't keep. Your word is important. It's a testament to your character and who you are as a person. My dad lived this and spoke it outright. If we promised to do something and a "better offer" came up, too bad. You committed, you stick with it.
8. Be respectful to the earth. My dad was by no means a tree hugger, but he valued the earth and what it provides. We didn't hunt or fish just for sport. You only kill what you can eat. You plant trees and flowers and make sure they are native to the area. Never disturb a bird's nest or animal's home.
9. Work ethic-you get paid to do a job, do it. No job is too menial. My dad sold real estate in the late 70s when interest rates were off the charts. It didn't bring in a lot of money. There weren't a lot of other good paying jobs out there. I can remember him working at a gas station to bring money in while he looked for something else to support us. I think this one goes hand-in-hand with keeping promises. You take care of your family, they are a commitment. He didn't take a lot of time off work either. Sick days were few and far between in our house. With the exception of my maternity leave, I have only taken three sick days in my career.
10. Never be afraid to tell someone how you feel. Life is too short to keep your feelings inside. While my dad always told me he loved me, a major regret he had was that he didn't say that to Poppy until he was in the throws of Alzheimer's. He regretted not being as affectionate with his own dad, and sons, as he was with me. That realization was important to him and he spent the next four years making sure he told my brothers that he loved and working on them to be more open with their feelings.

While a few of these lessons were spoken outright, I'm sure my dad didn't realize he was teaching me the others. He probably wasn't consciously aware of how much I watched what he was doing. That can be another lesson I learned from him--live a good life, because others are watching you--most importantly your children.