Itisi

The pic above is a snapshot from the BBC news site and the link actually goes to this article about whether or not actors should ‘put on’ an accent appropriate to their character – but how does that read to you? Is this some novel new punishment? Is an English accent really so bad thoroughly evil people should be forced to adopt one?

It’s the strangest thing I’ve seen since the whole Googe incident.

Updated to add: The article itself is worth a read!

Currently listening to: Spiritualised by Finlay Quaye


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The news that Michael Arrington was accosted (and spat at) by a disgruntled start up owner while leaving a conference in Germany struck a chord with me, because I also became subject to the attentions of an internet oddball this week. Admittedly, mine was more of a nuisance than a danger, and he did not approach me in person, but it still served as a reminder that there are some very strange people out there,* and that it wasn’t just me – I received several messages from others who have had similar experiences. It also made me think about just what motivates those who do decide to stalk/harass/attack a complete stranger simply because they happen to have encountered them on the internet.

I came up with a number of theories: The perceived anonymity of the web giving the less well adjusted a means of bullying by proxy; a feeling of spite towards a person because of a real or imagined slight; underlying mental illness leading to the harasser being unable to understand what they are doing is wrong. However, I also mulled over the way an online personae can lead some to believe they really know a person, and therefore feel a sense of entitlement to that person’s time and attention. This seems to be the case with Michael Arrington’s assailant who, for some reason, felt he had been snubbed, and avenged himself in a really revolting manner. I’m not sure what motivated my wannabee new best friend, but I strongly suspect he is someone who has encountered me on Twitter and/or read this blog, and because of the small amount of information he has gleaned in those places believes he ‘knows’ me. The truth is, he doesn’t.

I am a very private person. It would be a mistake for anyone to think the posts that drop into their feed reader give any great insight into me as a person. Or that the light-hearted and occasionally (hopefully) amusing tweets I make will tell you all there is to know about me. Like most people, I’m pretty complex. That dippy personality you see in public is only a small part of who I really am. In fact, a number of people who have got to know more about me have remarked that I’m actually quite serious** – I suspect this is a euphemism for boring, but whatever. I do have online friends who know me extremely well – many of whom I met through this blog – and whom I value as highly as the 3D variety. (To give an example: I’ve been in touch with a group of fellow mums since the year 2000, we’ve shared the highs and lows of bringing up a family by email, phone and more recently, Facebook. Those women are my friends, they know all sorts of things about me that I wouldn’t dream of sharing here, or on Twitter. They are part cheer leading squad, part support team. They aren’t unique, but they are part of a relatively small group. Not because I’m mean, or snobby, but because, like most people, I don’t feel the need to be ‘always on’. I can’t always be Kate the dippy, blonde blogger, sometimes, I just like to be Kate the girl who is surrounded by people she knows, trusts and loves, which I think is pretty normal.)

On the other hand, there are those few people who read this blog, who follow me on various networks and, thinking they know me, struggle to understand why I don’t want to add them on Facebook, exchange emails or swap phone numbers. This is not because I have anything against them, it’s simply that really they don’t know me, or I them. I have been a member of Facebook for nearly two years, in that time I’ve accumulated less than 150 friends. Once again, that’s not because I’m mean and anti-social, it’s because I only add people I know (a significant number are members of my family, or friends I know in the 3D world) and feel I can trust. If I added every Tom, Dick and Raymond they would have access – through my profile – to my children, my mother, members of my extended family, and I really don’t feel comfortable with that. Would you? I wouldn’t invite a comparative stranger into my house, and there are places online I guard in the same way.

My point – yes, I do have one – is that publishing online, or joining a public network such as twitter exposes us to a huge number of strangers, in a way that (especially for really big names such as Arrington) the average person could not have comprehended twenty years ago. And just as some people believe they know an actor or singer because they’re familiar with their work and have watched them on chat shows, it’s inevitable that some internet users will come to believe they know the bloggers they subscribe to, or the tweeters they follow. Of those who do have this impression, most will be content to sit on the sidelines and enjoy the perceived association. However, there will be a small number who want to go further, who want their new friend to give them the attention they think they deserve, whether that is support for their new business or blog, or the recognition of a befriending on a network and the exchange of personal contact information.

The question is: How do we deal with it? Not we, the individuals, but we the internet community, because we are a community, right? Remember, this kind of thing really can happen to anyone, not just net celebrities and dippy blondes. Even small bloggers with a handful of subscribers can become the subject of undesirable types – and for them it may be worse because they won’t necessarily have a network of people to offer advice and support. I don’t have any answers, other than the obvious things, inform moderators, block where appropriate etc. However, that only deals with the problem on an individual level, how do we manage it as a whole? Education programmes in schools? Free orientation courses for net newbies? Disclaimers on blogs stating that any content should not be considered representative of the blogger as a whole? A uniform policy for dealing with harassment on social networks? Uniform legal policies to deal with cross-border harassment? An army of geeks who hire themselves out as virtual bodyguards to net personalities?***

Anyhoo, those are just my thoughts in a post that was written pretty much ‘stream of consciousness’ style, but I’d love to know what you think.

One more thing, a big thank you to everyone who offered help and advice about dealing with my persistent admirer, there are too many of you to list, but please know it was very much appreciated! And to those who offered to ‘have words’ with him, (blush) that’s ok, but I’ll give you a call next time I’m bothered by dragons

* Not that a reminder was really needed, Arrington states in his post that he suffered even more serious harassment last year, and this is not the first time I’ve encountered a, umm, persistent befriender.

** No really, the real me is far more likely to discuss religion or politics than boobs, farty jokes or terrible shopping experiences.

*** I like that idea best

Currently listening to: Diego the cat, I must go and feed him.





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Elephant by Art G. (digitalART2)

Hmm. That's a tricky one. A tiger would be nice, but a bit scary, and I'd have to buy gallons of milk just to keep it on my side. Or I could have a bear, but imagine if it decided to sleep on the bed, there would be no room for me.



So, I'll choose an elephant. They seem very friendly, they're intelligent and it could help out by moving the sofa when I vacuum, or taking me to the shops and carrying the shopping home. And of course, I'd never forget anything when I was there, because elephants have really good memories.

Testing out this Plinky thingy

- Watched the inauguration of the new US president. This was interesting. I’d never seen one before and have a couple of questions. First, why is it held outside in January? It looked very cold. Is there some kind of deal with the makers of thermal undies? Next, what was that poem about? I still don’t get it. And finally: that bloke at the end, I don’t know what he was talking about, but he was cool, can we borrow him? He’d certainly liven up the next coronation.

- Figured out the bizarre schedule the pesky bin men are using. OK, I didn’t really figure it out. I heard them coming on yet another random day and chased them up the road with the bin, but now I know they last came on a Thursday, I know not to expect them on that day for at least 3 months. Ha, take that bin men, I’m wise to your ploys.

- Actually used an escalator*. On my own. With no help at all. No one to hold my hand and mutter soothing words. OK it was an up one, and I totally chickened out of the downies** but, it’s progress. At this rate, I’ll be using them with confidence by the time I’m 84.

- Wrote a post. This one to be precise. It may not be the best post ever***, but it’s a post. I may have found my mojo, but I’ll pretend I haven’t noticed just in case it slopes off again. Tricksy things, those mojos.

* I suffer from Escalaphobia, and suffer is the operative word. It is most inconvenient. Not least because, until recently, I couldn’t walk past one in case it sucked me in. (Why will no one believe me that so could happen?!) Oh, and small children laugh at you as they sail merrily up and down.

** I edited that sentence, it read very differently before.

*** It’s probably in the bottom 1% of all posts ever written anywhere by anyone. So bad in fact, even sploggers will feel superior.

Currently listening to: God Shuffled His Feet by The Crash Test Dummies. Yes, I’m the fan.



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