Disclaimer: This is the rough start to what I hope will eventually be my novel, book, or whatever this turns into; a work of facts woven through fiction. A work in progress. So I reserve the right to come back to this post to edit, as writers are often wont to do.
It’s heartbreaking when someone tells you there are two Americas.
But it’s worse to find it out for yourself.
I canvassed neighborhoods of single family homes while we were in New Hampshire. Long driveways that lead to beautiful homes behind large trees. In the winter it seemed so idyllic, so peaceful. Everything was covered in a blanket of pristine white snow two feet deep.
Then I was sent to canvass in neighborhoods in South Carolina, Pennsylvania, and North Carolina where I swore the houses on my list were vacant. No one would live in a house like that. Or even could.
My first shock of brutal realism came by way of a house with decaying, rotted front steps in a quiet town full of winding streets and short, one-story single family homes. The front window of this house was broken, it’s lower pane replaced with a piece of cardboard. I had to climb up onto the porch to avoid the rotting steps, knocking on the front door, which was open except for a warped wooden framed door with a ripped screen that never quite closed.
Alright, I’m about to say “Enough!” to all the digital profiles, online accounts, and private networking sites. I know this may well be “career suicide” for someone who manages Web and social media content for a national non-profit, and just took on the new role of “Community Manager” as well, but seriously.
It’s getting close to impossible to manage one’s own online identity in this digital age. Turns out, the ease with which we can now post about our daily lives on the Internet(s) is a double-edged sword. We can (and in many cases, have to) create an account to comment on news sites and blogs, follow topics on other Websites, communicate with friends and family, bookmark URLs online — the list is almost endless.
Is this necessary? I don’t know. I’ve seen stories of journalists who’ve tried to disconnect, at least from social networking platforms, and from what I can tell it never quite “took.” I doubt I’ll ever go so far as to try to disconnect socially, but the thought of erasing my digital footprints in the sand is pretty intriguing.
Do it, Google yourself. See what comes up? Half your freakin’ life if you’re like me!
Disclaimer: This is the rough start to what I hope will eventually be my novel, book, or whatever this turns into; a work of facts woven through fiction. A work in progress. So I reserve the right to come back to this post to edit, as writers are often wont to do.
Thinking about your past is a great way to really consider your future.
When I was in about the third grade or so, I decided I wanted to be a writer. We used to have assignments in school that included drawing pictures and writing a short story to accompany them.
I remember spending hours at night, recopying my text carefully onto the pre-lined sheets our teacher had given us, which left room at the top for illustration. Page after page I would rewrite my story, making sure my penmanship was perfect, checking spelling.
