You don’t run to live better; you live better because you run

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Running is the secret’s secret. Marriage, job,  house, kids… no, those are the overhyped things we are told we need to be satisfied in life. But no, it’s actually a lot simpler than that. For many of us, it’s running. 

As a runner you know this. And because you know this you live in a state of mild, but constant, paranoia of being injured. Which up until yesterday meant knocking up a knee, twisting an ankle, a bad blister. It meant not being able to run for a little while. Not being able to run is the worst for runners. It’s hard on their bodies, but it’s a lot harder on their minds. Runners know this–how much running helps their minds. How much stability and happiness it allows you.

There are so many people without legs.”*

If you don’t run you don’t understand the moments. Of being alone. Of being in the middle of it. Say mile 4. A good song comes on. A good thought comes to you. About anything, and suddenly stuff is good. Suddenly life is awesome. Suddenly the future is dazzling. And you run. You sprint. You are in the air. You have no weight. You fucking move. And you are grinning. Maybe you are singing out loud. Maybe you are pumping your fists. And you don’t care if anyone sees you. Every single good run has one of these moments in the middle.** Runners know this.

Running is the secret’s secret. Running starts as a hobby on the sidelines of your life, but then it has this way of nudging in–nudging completely into the center. Running becomes the radius of your life. Running becomes your life. You don’t run to live better; you live better because you run.

Runners know this. It’s the secret. It’s why we live in a constant fear of injury—fearing that one day we won’t be able to run. As a runner you know you probably won’t be able to run your entire life. Sure, every once in a while there are the moments when you find yourself running a race and an 85-year old weathered out old bird with bells tied to his shoelaces will just run right on past you, will leave you in his dust, and you’ll think, That’s fucking awesome. But those are the exceptions. You know that running isn’t always that sustainable on  bodies. You know something will probably eventually break. The shoe will drop. The knee will go, the cartilage will wear. Runners know this.

But this. Fuck this.

Running is active gratitude. To run means you are healthy. To run means you are alive and able-bodied and physically independent. To run means that you are free. From now on every run, run in gratitude.

~

*“These runners just finished and they don’t have legs now,” said Roupen Bastajian, 35, a Rhode Island state trooper and former Marine. “So many of them. There are so many people without legs. It’s all blood. There’s blood everywhere. You got bones, fragments.” New York Times

**This Sunday I ran a half marathon in PA. It was a beautiful day with blue skys and sun. During mile 7 or 8 the course took you along a small road in a wide open field. The older runner in front of me had a shirt on that read on the back, “Run On Extraordinary.” I was running behind him and thinking about his shirt. An entire family of deer suddenly appeared in the field and sprinted alongside us. I grinned and I ran.

 

The Facebook Avatar Revolution: How to Record These Moments?

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Over the last few days we’ve watched as Facebook has gone red in support of marriage equality during this week’s Supreme Court’s testimony. It’s inspiring to see the velocity of a movement happen in real-time, as people step forward all around you in mutual support of a cause.

Watching revolutions and large-scale movements translate onto social media over the last 5 or so years, it has more often been Twitter as the platform of note. The hashtags form, the news snippets are sent out from the field and retweeted by the people (and retweeted and retweeted and retweeted). People show their support in words marked with communal hashtags. Together and by volume and speed, these messages are unified as trending hashtags before a global audience. It’s inspiring to see the power of the collective.

I’m a sucker for a good data visualization or infographic because I’m a sucker for a good story. For me, my favorite part of Twitter is the data visualizations of these movements. Watching the velocity of a hashtag explode and quickly move beyond the boundary of one country throughout the world. Capturing the scope of activity and unity of people everywhere coming together in support. Plucking the specific tweets and photos that influenced so many out of the volumes of mentions and constructing a story of a movement move. (This man’s Storify of the Arab Spring exemplifies just that: http://storify.com/antderosa/2011-timeline-of-protest-revolution-and-uprising)

Data visualizations do more than capture the moment in a way that can be seen from a bird’s eye view beyond your immediate network, but they can act as archives and keepers of stories and history. And not just a single story, but the many narratives and perspectives of what happened and why it mattered and what it influenced.

“When you have different versions of history, you are creating an atmosphere of freedom – it’s more like an element of democracy. And this is not characteristic of most Arab countries. You are not expected or allowed to have more than one version of history,” said Muhammad Faour, senior associate at the Carnegie Middle East Centre to Al Jazeera last year.

He continued, “It’s not just a matter of current records serving as a playbook for future activists and civic groups. It’s also a matter of empowering a population to record – on their own terms – what transpired on their streets, something being documented in some measure now in Syria.”

~

It’s appropriate that Color would be the main focus of the gay rights movement, not a phrase or hashtag. LGBT has always been associated with color. Phrases can be polluted with stigmas (like focusing on “marriage equality” instead of “gay rights.”) But how do we best record this moment in time? We can record the volume and location of tweets in data visualizations. We can watch it ourself with free measuring tools. The Library of Congress is collecting all tweets (170 billion and counting) that some poor analyst will always have the opportunity to sort through. But Facebook is trickier because of data restrictions  and privacy. Images and image variations are trickier to collect, pool and sort than words and hashtags. Even though Facebook has just adopted the hasthag, I suspect it’s real value during these times of revolution will be visual. Visuals are just more powerful on Facebook than words. I don’t think this will be the last time we share an image in support of a movement on Facebook.

I don’t want the collected moment of this week to be lost. There was an instance the other day when my entire Facebook homefeed was red, every avatar. It was inspiring. But now I want to see more, I want to see it from the bird’s eye, I want to watch our support grow.  I want to remember how our support grew.

Do you have a favorite data visualization? Share it! Or a favorite tool to capture and analyze image volume?

Lines

Assignment: Five interesting lines in structure or design.

Purpose: To understand how lines can create an action or statement.

Cross Here lines

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Stand Back! lines

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Don’t Jump lines

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I’ll Take What You Don’t Want lines

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Think About What These Lines Are Supposed To Mean lines

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Unlike Fireflies: A Short Meditation on Fluorescent Corals

“Unlike fireflies, glowworms and other bioluminescent creatures, fluorescent corals don’t glow on their own. Instead, they absorb one color of light, and emit light of another color—a process known as fluorescence.”

~

Fluorescent Corals remind me of this tree that is on a narrow street in southern Thailand. The roots are cracking the pavement and an old weathered prayer flag is wrapped around the trunk several times. Five years ago I was jogging down that road, something I did nearly every day then, and a thought struck me so suddenly and with such weight, and from seemingly out of nowhere, that it stopped me right there—on the side of the road, hands on my knees, breathing heavily and staring up at that tree.

“If that tree wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be here.” That was the thought. But now I am no longer able to recreate the weight of that thought in my mind. I can just remember the actual words.

Have I forgotten the depths of Buddhism in the same way I have forgotten how to speak Thai? Or in the same way in where it’s hard to run even 3 miles when I take a break from running every day—when there are times my body can run marathons? Can the under-used muscle of the spirit go slack like the mind and the body?

~

Fluorescent Corals remind me of my diaries from when I was a girl. Now I read them in wonderment. I read them standing up by the desk in my childhood bedroom dressed like an adult because I am an adult. I read them and am proud and embarrassed and filled with infinite marvel all at once.

Who was this girl? And what’s even more confusing is where did she go? This girl in my diary, sitting on her bed in her pajamas who had so many feelings. This girl who was just writing and writing and writing and trying to figure it out—and by “it” I mean trying to figure herself out. And her parents were just downstairs, those foreign creatures, her parents watching television and passing the popcorn just oblivious—oblivious, she imagined, of ever understanding the depths of this girl who was sitting in her bedroom right above their heads with thoughts that blow around inside of her so violently, so perpetually they are like a wind vortex spinning a pile of dead leaves in a cyclone on the street in front of her suburban home.

The girl’s pen dries up. Me, the adult, shuts the diary. I’m busy and have to go somewhere else. I’m not at my parents’ house to read my old diaries after all.

“Why are we afraid of death,” I ask later high or drunk one night in my adult bed. “When we have died so many times? When people we once were are dead and gone right now and they will never ever possibly come back in the physical form as we knew them? But their presence, their essence and lessons are with us—invisibly alive inside of us always.”

“Haven’t we already died, died as we understand it—like physically just gone forever—so many times before?”

If that girl in my diary wasn’t there, then I wouldn’t be here now.

I understand it then.

~

Fluorescent Corals remind me that we are all just products of the people and environment that have and do surround us throughout our lives. Fluorescent Corals remind me of a poem or story I want to write but can’t think of anything better to say then what they are and what they do. They remind me that I’m not alone. That I’m not special. That I am part of you and you are a part of me and if that tree wasn’t living and breathing that time on a narrow street in the South Thailand I would not be here, writing this now, in this moment—which is the only moment in which I, as I am right now, is and will ever be alive.

This Baby Is Hustling

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Baby’s got dry mud caked all over his butt and a fringy sailor top on. Squirming on his back like he’s having a baby stroke, heaving his tummy up and down. I’m in a metro station in Old Delhi. There are students and dogs and garbage and shit tons of people and baby and me. I’m looking at a map. Baby’s momma is lounging on the street outside with her lady friends. Her elbow’s on the curb, hand resting her head. She’s gabbing.

I thought that baby was having a stroke until I felt a tap tap tap on my knee and looked down. Little baby with his dirty little finger, smirking baby toothed smile and dry mud caked on his arms too. Motioning his baby hand to baby mouth, baby hand to baby mouth. He has a sneaky smile in his eyes and he’s got his skinny girl arm planted on his jutted hip out with his baby balls hanging and his left foot tapping. What I’m saying is baby’s working it.

Ughhhhhh. I think. Is there anything else to think right now really? Is there anything more profound that I am missing? This baby is a riot. This baby is funny. This baby is hustling. I say  to baby No, I shake my head to baby No. Baby loses his sneaky smile in his eyes, he tips his head to the side, nods, and then prances his naked butt away, plops flat on his back down on the ground and starts pumping his tummy up and down. Baby stroking for someone new.

If there’s a God—dude is twisted.

Goodbye To All That: Notes On Quitting Facebook

Welp, that was a good run.

I actually distinctly remember when I signed up for Facebook. I am naturally a skeptical person so it wasn’t until the end of my senior year of college (2005). I was sitting alone in the attic of the house I lived in Ithaca, New York. I don’t remember what finally got me to sign up. I do remember however, deciding on a profile picture that was of a friend covering my face with his hands. I thought that was awfully clever.

2005: “The Facebook” was only available to select networks, the News Feed didn’t exist. Users hopped between profiles like this one.

And there it began. I don’t remember ever being obsessed with Facebook during this time. I was finishing up my senior year of college. I had better things to obsess over. Like how I didn’t have a job lined up. Or a place to live after my lease ran up. Or what to do with my college boyfriend when college ended. More importantly I had a lot of drinking to do. Copious amounts. I had a lot of life to live at that time.

Fast forward 6 months later to when I receive my first, and last, email from Mark Zuckerberg. I am sitting in a friend’s bedroom, still in Ithaca, probably in my pajamas. I am realizing that the night before I had deleted my Facebook account in a drunk stupor. After I caught myself stalking my college boyfriend, who had smartly moved out of our college town, and I declared many beers in, with still no job (the open-all-night pizza place didn’t even hire me!) I was going to cut the Facebook cord.

Problem was, when I went to open a new Facebook account that morning I no longer had a college email address as I had graduated. And at that time you needed one because Facebook was still all about being elitist. My email correspondence with Mark Zuckerberg in 2005 went something like this:

Hi Mark, I just graduated from a college a few months ago and recently drunk deleted my account. (This must happen a lot right?!) I swear I’m a college graduate. But I no longer have a college email. Help!

Mark’s response was something like this:

Get an alumni email address.

And so I did. Not appreciating that Mark Zuckerberg, who would be a social icon in a quick matter of years, dropped me a note.

2006: Facebook launches the News Feed, now user profiles host mini-feeds that display their activities.

 

La de dah. I keep living my life. And Facebook is along for the ride. I decide, why get a job when I can join the Peace Corps? And so I go.  I go far and for years. I remember during those years walking in flip-flops to the crummy internet shop down the lane where boys with big welted bug bites sit around me playing violent video games. I would sit on a red plastic stool by an old dial-up computer and (slowly) log into Facebook. I remember I didn’t do this that often because going on Facebook when you are alone in a foreign place with no end in sight is generally a not-that-fun idea. Generally it mostly just eludes waves of homesickness by scrolling through all that stuff. Stuff like my friends at bars. My friends eating dinner. My friends. Western ways of doing things that I missed. All of that.

And that was thing with Facebook at that point in time. In 2006 & 2007, Facebook was mostly just my friends. I was connected to people who I liked being connected to. The people who I missed. The people who I’d write an occasional letter to or make a long distance call. The people who understood my sense of humor because they knew me well. People who got the joke. It was a safe and friendly place and if it didn’t just remind me of how far away I was, it would have been a place I would have quite enjoyed being.

2007: While not a huge year for profile redesign, users begin to interact more with each other’s profiles. The focus begins to alter from static profile cards to a visible documentation of usage and interaction.

 

I am standing in a coffee shop down the street from New York University’s library where I have been planting myself on a daily basis. It is 2008. I am back in America, in New York City, in graduate school studying… er… “identity politics.” I need to figure out what I’m going to write my 80 page Master’s thesis on. And quickly! “As in yesterday,” my thesis adviser tells me. I chew on my pen cap.

“I am interested in how people articulate themselves into being who they are,” I am telling this to my father. On my cell phone, sitting in a corner of this coffee shop. My father isn’t impressed.

That’s when I have my light bulb moment. “I will write a thesis about how people articulate and create themselves on social network sites around the world- like Facebook and stuff,” I’m saying to my father now, I’m gaining momentum. “I’ll make this like a ‘new media’ thing. A ‘digital behavior’ thing.” My father is becoming a bit more receptive.  ”I think that could like, make me more of a job candidate. I think Facebook is becoming kind of a big thing.” My father is starting to agreeably grunt now, softly-  at least to the degree that I am now assured he is at the very least still on the other end of the line.

2008: Facebook introduces the Publisher tool bar, which allows a user to publish a status update, photo or link to his profile. Users begin to update friends on what they are doing in real time. Application tabs are added to user’s profiles- Photo tab, About tab, “Bumper Sticker” tabs. Users begin to categorize their lives.

 

The thesis work begins. I have a year left in my MA program and the entire focus is meant to be on the creation of this thesis. That means that every class I decide to join, I am there considering the course through the perspective of my thesis. How and why do people choose to create their lives online? Are people’s online lives an expression of who they think they are or are they escaping to be somebody else? Or! are they escaping to be who they actually are? How is Facebook changing our lives? 

As a result, I start to spend a lot more time on Facebook. And because I need to interview hundreds of Facebook users from around the world, I am talking to a lot of different people about Facebook. Like Arman from Bangladesh. Meeting Arman, and as a result having lively debates online about technology theory with him is really the beauty of everything I am seeking in my thesis work. Arman, a teenager on the other side of the world in a village in Bangladesh whom I met in a Facebook group dedicated to dannah boyd,  brightly illustrates the connection and humanizing these online social networks inspire; they are allowing us to understand one another, they are allowing us to do what we’ve always wanted to do since the first fire circle, come together and be together.

2009-2010: It’s no longer just about friend to friend(s). A new kind of user profile, Pages launched in 2009. Users could “become a fan” of a Page (until 2010, when they could “like” a page) to see that individual’s or business’ updates in their news feed.

I was right. Studying Facebook had made me a “job candidate.” And now I had a job. Working with really large brands figuring out how they could be cool and casual and interesting–and worth people’s time– on Facebook. I’m not one who ever had any real desire to get into advertising. On the contrary actually, my college thesis was studying the adverse effects advertising had on gender roles.

What I liked about my job, about helping brands try to penetrate social media during this time in 2009 through 2011, is that mainly the work was required to be fairly grassroots. Brands had to be creative, real, useful, funny. They had to create a reason for being. If a brand did something that people didn’t like, if they were say, unethical, this would come out by angry fans on their Facebook page. And the only way the brand could get “positive fan sentiment” would be by fixing the problem, I would tell clients. By not being unethical. By changing your treatment of workers or animals or the environment- or whatever is what- and then telling people you made the change- on Facebook. If a brand cared about social media, and as the years passed brands began to really care about social media, a brand would have to be transparent.

2011: Facebook introduces Timeline & the Ticker, the new profile acts like a virtual scrapbook, featuring important milestones that have occurred since your time on Facebook. Compared to the evolution of the social network’s profile thus far, this redesign appears the most significant. Brands are also able to pay for their Facebook posts to be promoted as ads, or “sponsored stories.” 

Around the time Facebook launched Open Graph in 2010, Mark Zuckerberg expressed his goal that when people enter the online space via mobile, tablets, desktops, whatever and whenever, they are online as their one Facebook self. That their Facebook self is their one true identity which can fluidly move between websites and apps and check ins and photos.

Nodding to the complexity that this notion creates, the idea that this suggests we then must be one person in front of many different people, from coworkers to family to friends to significant others to even brands who we just want a coupon from, Zuckerberg said: “You have one identity … The days of you having a different image for your work friends or co-workers and for the other people you know are probably coming to an end pretty quickly … Having two identities for yourself is an example of a lack of integrity.”

This statement is actually the exact opposite of what every sociology text I have ever read about social behavior says.  Sociologists, like famed Erving Goffman, say we conform our behaviors, actions, motions based on the people we are interacting with. What Zuckerberg is saying will and should be a social norm, I have come to believe is actually humanely impossible.

But what does in fact happen is that though my Facebook self is by no means my one true self, the boundary of Facebook and real life deeply blurs. It blurs so completely that my Facebook newsfeed now, in 2012, has become actual life. The popular MIT technology writer, Sherry Turkel, wrote in the early 90′s all about the separation of the user’s online life and real life- where, how, and why this boundary exists. This boundary is gone now on Facebook.

But it’s not like there aren’t other popular social networks ballooning in user size all over the place. Instagram, Pinterest, Twitter, Foursquare etc. are becoming increasingly huge. However, the important difference between Facebook and these other social sites is that they aren’t aiming to be what Facebook is, which is your entire life, they are just aiming to fill specific needs, enhance specific parts of your life which for me, is exactly what I’m looking for.

2012: My parents join Facebook 

“Monkey,” my mom says over the phone, “I saw that Uncle Grant said Happy Birthday on your Facebook, you have to say Thank You. Did you say Thank You?”

Facebook becomes my actual life, and you know what actual life can be like? It can be really, really annoying.

Facebook is my actual life complete with having to listen to people I don’t like or agree with and just nod along as to not be rude. Actual life complete with having to swat at advertisements and spam as I try to do the thing I’m actually trying to do. Actual life where my mom is nagging me and my aunt won’t stop playing that weird annoying game with fish and I’m being forced to look through all of your baby pictures. Actual life where people die but their ghosts haunt us. Actual life where what I do there can make me lose my job. Actual life where all  of my actions are accountable. Actual life where I have to be really polite and nice and I have to Like stuff like, all of the time.

I miss the internet as a place to escape from actual life. I miss spending time in a place with people I love who I may not get to see as often as I like. I miss Facebook being, pardon the expression, my space.

Bow Out

When I say we should move. I mean I’m not happy.

When I say we should move to Europe. I mean I don’t know how to get out of this.

When I say we should move just leave, just travel for two years. To Bhutan and Israel and Italy. People do that, you know, they just bow out. And then they just come back, and they get on with it. People do this all the time. It’s not like they can’t come back. It’s not like they can never get jobs again, right?  I mean I’ve had several cocktails.

When I say or we could move to San Francisco. I mean I’m scared to not have a paycheck. 

When I say or actually, lets just move to Vermont OK? I mean I really, really meant to be a writer. I don’t know how this happened. And I’m horrified. Horrified, that I’ve wasted this much time already.

And then I just stop with it. I’m just looking at a matchbook on the table at this dive bar. You’re looking at your phone, bright like the north star, flicking at it with your thumb.

I’m not talking anymore but I’m thinking. I’m thinking when a person is lost they don’t know which direction to go to not be lost anymore. I’m thinking, that’s like, the definition of being lost.

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