Not Right is now 9

Nine years ago at this very moment, I was sitting at the family PC at my parents' house creating the blog that you see before you now. On impulse, I set up a Blogger account shortly before midnight, wrote up several initial entries and played with the template until about 6 a.m.

Nine years later, I'm ... one room over. It's been a rough year. But at least I'm on my own Mac laptop now. And in between I've lived out of state, moved back in state, been all over the country, loved, lost, won, hurt, stopped hurting, started hurting again and have had to reassess my direction several times. This blog has opened doors, slammed doors in my face and undergone long periods of disinterest. When I set this up on June 1, 2004, I hoped it would help elevate me to an illustrious writing career. It has not done that.

What it has brought me is at least a minimal audience I wouldn't have had otherwise; some friends I might not have met another way; and I probably wouldn't be as consistently prolific and creative. Even if this leads to no traditional metric of success, it's still something. And it's always a treat to look back ... well, sometimes. Some stuff I wish I'd written differently. But such is life.

I hope I can look back a year from now, on this blog's 10th anniversary, and say things are going a lot better. In the meantime, I'll continue to seek self-improvement and steer into a better position as best as I can. That's a lifetime commitment.

I need to do better. And I will. That's a promise.

(Oh, and I'm happy to report that my blog passed the 3rd grade. It nearly got expelled and charged with a felony for its loud science experiment, but hey, test scores!)

A powerful irony

Today is the annual meeting of SLEMCO, the utility co-op that powers much of rural south Louisiana. SLEMCO meets every year at this time at the Cajundome in Lafayette. In addition to official business, the meeting features bands, kid stuff, free coffee and doughnuts, multiple door prizes, scholarships and the grand prize of a car or truck.

My grandfather was a SLEMCO member for 35 years, and he and I went to the meetings each year I was in high school. I always had fun peeking into the prize vehicles and even more fun flirting with the many teenage girls who would show up. Pop's deal with me was always that if he won the car, I'd get his old station wagon. Every year, that didn't happen. 

One year, a picture of Pop mingling with other members showed up in the following year's SLEMCO Power promo. Sadly, he had died in the months prior. With him died our annual trek.

But SLEMCO remains of interest to me in light of the politics of recent years. Its clientele is overwhelmingly rural and conservative, which means that they presumably use their successful, 76-year-old public utility to power up Fox News broadcasts about how socialism is destroying America. And many will no doubt discuss "takers" and government largesse over their free coffee, while waiting to see if they've won an expensive prize, paid for in part by community dollars, at the lavish event.

I've noticed that the meetings, just like the utility itself, have endured for decades. There's a lesson lurking there for some people.

Also, they're too tiny for tic-tac-toe

I saw something on the Internet that annoyed me.

It's something that everyone, including myself, has done on occasion. It has its place.

I've blogged about it before.

I don't think less of people for doing it.

It's not at all important in the scheme of things, really.

But it's still hard to let go.

Excessive hashtags on Facebook.

Today I saw an item that had 26 hashtags. TWENTY-SIX! That's 223 characters, not counting spaces. That's enough to fill nearly two full (unreadable) tweets.

Supposedly, Facebook may be experimenting with hashtags soon. As far as I can tell, that time hasn't yet come. But when it does, a tutorial about tags might be in order.

As of tomorrow, I will have been tilting at windmills blogging for nine years. The only time I ever tagged posts is when I blogged on the Springfield News-Leader's website. That was in 2008, before Blogger had an easy way to tag posts. I realized quickly that I hated coming up with tag terms, because my vocabulary OCD would kick in. I would want to tag every proper noun, then every improper noun, then every verb, then half the conjunctions and some of the articles. (Eventually, I made a running gag of tagging every post with "aggravating" and "squirrels.") Left to my own OCD devices, I might have strung tag lists longer than the posts themselves. After a point, I decided I'd let the posts speak for themselves.

I encourage anyone tempted to go overboard on filling the unlimited space that Facebook provides to show a little restraint. Hashtags work on Twitter because they're searchable and, most importantly, you're limited in how many you can write. Facebook is not (yet?) searchable and allows far more space for tags than is forgivable. Sometimes more isn't more.

Oh, and that hash salad I mentioned earlier? It was a shared advertisement. 

That's not cool either.

Anyone who can get creative with hashtags can — and should — be just as creative without them. 

Solid content has its own way of getting around.

Refining priorities

NPR looks into safety issues at Baton Rouge's ExxonMobil refinery

As a reporter in Baton Rouge, I frequently covered this refinery. The people there were always friendly and accessible, even when coverage was critical. 

One day I visited the refinery along with other local journalists to witness some construction. We took a shuttle van to and from the front gate. On our way out, security stopped the van and was threatening to write tickets for all of us inside. The reason: most of us weren't wearing seat belts. I'm the most militant of belt wearers, but I'll admit I hadn't searched too hard for the elusive restraint in a packed shuttle van that was driving us a few hundred feet at most. The driver eventually talked the officers out of it, but we were told that such enforcement was part of the plant's "culture of safety." I'd heard those words throughout my visit that day, and had to meet lots of safety and ID requirements to enter.

That's entirely understandable and commendable. But if what NPR is reporting is correct, then the safety priorities are askew. Enforcement, to some degree, seems based on economics rather than urgency. If the refinery is quick to crack down on shuttle van violations, then it should be at least as equally diligent in fixing equipment failures that poison the environment around it. At least.

Inspired by a conversation about Savage Garden

Six years ago, I moved out of state for a new job and bought a new car (which I still drive). It was the first new car I ever owned, and it ended a 17-month period when I didn't own a vehicle. The car smelled brand-new and was fun to drive. Also, its radio had an intact faceplate, which was an upgrade over my previous truck.

During my earliest cruises, I noticed that I would jam even to songs I didn't care about before. After that, I'd always love those particular songs. Years later, I went through a period of overwhelming stress and dread that magnified during my commute — and I didn't want to play even my favorite songs.

I don't know if it's a universal experience, but I find time, place and circumstance make all the difference in how (or if) I enjoy a song. More often than not, my first impression of a song matters most.

(Example: In 7th grade, I wanted to make a joke: "(Blank band) is so bad that if you put their CD in your stereo, the stereo says, 'no disc.'" (Stop not laughing.) Because I couldn't think of a bad band, I asked a friend for one. He offered up the Black Crowes, whom I'd never heard of. When I finally heard them, I couldn't admit that I liked them; my friend's passing reference meant that much. I got over it, but it took a while.)

Fortunately, that first impression can be rewritten if necessary. (Saints montages in particular are capable of magic. Potentially terrible magic in the wrong hands.)

Even more fortunately, this is true of pretty much everything. Yesterday was one of those days where I wanted to snipe at everything and everyone, where even an Internet pop-up ad pissed me off based on its content. I'm glad every day isn't like that, because I like to enjoy things. Mood has so much to do with how we perceive things, including life in general. It's just a matter of getting into the right mood, which is often easier said than done, then everything can be beautiful.

We can't hibernate through the worst times, so it's worth it to figure out how to do that.

Or, even better, how to live life so that you never want to hibernate.

An anarchy of accuracy

I’m not sure I’m a liberal.

Get up.

No, I haven’t changed my mind about anything, nor am I having an existential crisis of any sort (well, not this sort at least). But after giving a lot of thought to what I believe in terms of religion and politics, I think I’m more of a scientist than anything else. By that I mean, I’m theoretically flexible.

In the past, I’ve considered myself an atheist. But I’m not certain there’s no God any more than I’m sure there is one. Officially, I’d say I’m open to concrete evidence for either case. Realistically, I don’t think I’ll ever see that kind of evidence, so I’m not likely to budge from my stance of, “I just don’t know.”

It’s the same with politics. I’ve considered myself liberal for as long as I’ve known what the word meant, but what I value most is an open-minded approach. Officially, I’ll side with whatever strikes me most accurately as the truth. Realistically, I don’t see my political morals being swayed dramatically at this point.

In either case, I like to think that I wouldn’t cling to something I knew to be untrue or inaccurate out of stubbornness. I’d accept concrete truth and move on. It’s the basis of the scientific method — hypothesize, build on available data and adapt when necessary.

Religion tends to be the exact opposite of this — based on preordained, absolute truth backed by faith and properly questioned by no one. If a belief does not hold up to evidence, then the evidence must be tweaked to fit the belief.

Hence, I don’t worship at any altar, not even the ones with which I most identify. Where I stand is a result of consideration, experimentation and logic. It can change, but only where it must to closer adhere to the truth.

The problem with this approach is that people will say, “You think you’re being objective, but you’re biased.” Behind this statement is the idea that the truth is a dead-center concept, and thus anyone who veers left or right is ideologically clouded. This is a destructive view, just like the idea that the press must be “balanced.”

“Balance” doesn’t mean a thing if by achieving it, journalists lend credence to a false viewpoint. Objectivity, the supposed point of balance, is important — but that’s not accomplished by equally weighing competing viewpoints for its own sake. Part of finding the truth is filtering fact from fiction. Sometimes that might make one side look better than the other, but the truth often has that effect. True objectivity acknowledges that.

This is important to keep in mind as the press grows more democratic in the online age. Many pundits bemoan the “elitist” media for dismissing the power of the fact-finding masses. And yes, journalism isn’t (and shouldn’t be) the exclusive, unchecked province of a privileged few. However, the press — regardless of form — must be the exclusive province of one type of journalist: the one who cares about truth, accuracy, fairness and context. Some untrained, amateur journalists have a natural knack for it; some professional, trained scribes don’t.

It’s the same with individuals and beliefs. The truth isn’t necessarily a matter of being open to all things for its own sake; it’s being open to that which steers you closer to the truth. Wherever you fall, whatever you believe, you should be there because it’s the most accurate place to be. In a world of false absolutes, accuracy is a real absolute. Anyone who wants to make an anarchy of accuracy lacks respect for the truth. Don’t buy anything they’re selling.

But do keep experimenting for enlightenment, always. Be as true and accurate as you can be. In the end, that’s all that matters.

Science!

Debunking Jonah Goldberg in four sentences

Goldberg: Don't Edit the First Amendment

1) When anger and derision toward the media is an established journalist's entire schtick, it rings more than a little petulant, hollow and ironic.

2) It's not a victory for the First Amendment to demand no standards of truth, accuracy and context. 

3) Freedom of religion does not mean, "freedom to violate the law based on religion."

4) It's not a violation of the First Amendment if a group applies to be a nonprofit and then breaks the rules that govern nonprofits — it's a violation of the tax code. 

That was easy. Weekend!