Image via WikipediaYep, so, I admit. I'm kind of socially inept. Inadequate even. I sweat and stutter and I always think of my snappy comebacks when they're too slow to be snappy anymore. I am most described by people who know me in real life as "nice," which tells me they don't really know me at all, through no fault of their own.
The internet, however, is a different beast. I can be who I am in my head online. I am kickass, I am independent, I am funny, and in my little corner of the web I am always the center of attention.
And, in the end, I guess that's why I'm so exposed online, by choice. It's also why I'm a writer. Where else can the voice in my head make it out into the world beyond sweating and stuttering but in my own little space on the internet, or between the covers of a book I've written?
So, how about you? Are you exposed online? Are you patently absent online? Why?
I've had a blog since December 2000, basically when blogs began, but I was searchable before the blogging revolution.
Even before blogs, I had websites. My sister and my brother and I were probably the only people we knew in high school who had our own websites, pretty much since the dawn of web browsing as we now know it. The sites didn't say anything important. Mine, as I recall, had my picture, and my interests, and a piece of horrible Star Wars fanfic I'd written. I have consistently maintained my own website, seriously, since approximately 1994. That's 14 years of internet exposure.
I have friends who would pretty much rather die than put themselves on the internet. They wonder aloud why I want people to be able to find out so much about me without even talking to me. I don't have a good answer for that. But I'm going to try to formulate one anyway.
Part of it is that my conversational skills aren't great. I tend to fade off to the side in group conversations. I am terribly afraid that I will stick my foot in my mouth or make an unfunny joke, and when you're talking, you can't edit. My husband pointed out to me once that I sweat when I talk to people. It's kind of true. These social inadequacies basically guarantee that I will not ever be the center of attention in real social interactions.
Tomorrow, I live happily ever after as the center of attention in the walls inside my head...
Image via WikipediaI wasn't intending to make this a series, but I got a little long-winded, since I was talking about my favorite subject, myself. Heh. So here's part 1 in a 3-part series:
Someone on Twitter (@mistersugar) posted a link to an article on blogging this morning. After reading the whole thing, I find that some of what was said resonates with me. I mean, I'm not a mean-spirited celebrity gossip monger and I don't reveal every little detail of my life online, but I am somewhat exposed.
If you Google for me (or, lest the Google legal people come to get me, if you perform a search for me using Google), at least the first 16 pages of results are me or have something to do with me. This is planned on my part. I always use my name when I comment and when I set up profiles. Most of the time, I use the same avatar as a vague representation of my face. This is all branding and it's all done on purpose. After all, I'm an author, and if you're looking for me because you liked my writing, I want you to be able to find me.
I have to admit, though, that I was pretty available online even before I called myself an author. I began blogging in December 2000, at the age of 19, when "blog" was a word only a select few knew. My first few posts were filled with the wonder of a new way to expose myself, and I was pretty much gleeful when a friend told me, "It's like reading the little voice in your head." As a writer, that was thrilling to me.
I read an article a while back on the benefits of being barefoot that really made a lot of sense to me. I'm not generally a big proponent of trying to do things the way nature intended them to be done. I mean, I love my microwave as much as the next cooking-challenged person, and my idea of "roughing it" is sleeping on a slightly lumpier mattress, but being barefoot seems just natural and a lot less kooky than refusing to, say, wear deodorant.
So, on Sunday, filled with good and hippie-like intentions, I went for a sock-shod run on the treadmill. (Yes, I realize the irony of trying to, like, connect with nature by being barefoot-but-not-really... on a treadmill. Spare me.) I'll throw in the caveat that I am not and never have been a serious runner, or even a decent runner. I'm really slow and get tired quickly. So me and running aren't intimately acquainted anyway. But, apparently on my first barefoot attempt, I made several mistakes:
1. Instead of altering my gait to a ball-heel-ball pattern, I did a modified heel strike with a softer landing and a roll to the outside of my foot. I have a high arch and naturally put a lot of weight on the outside of my feet, so it seemed like it should work. Nope.
2. I wasn't taking short enough steps. The longer the stride, the more pushing off, and the harder you hit your foot on the landing.
3. I wore socks, so I couldn't tell I was getting blisters on the outside edges of the balls of my feet until too late.
Oops.
So experiment number one in barefoot running failed, although a point in my favor is that I can tell I did something right because my calves are sore today rather than my knees being tender. Those hard heel strikes really do jar your knees around.
I hopped online and did some barefoot run research afterwards. The ball-heel-ball non-strike should help a lot, as should a modified stance. I am leaning too far forward and not bending my knees enough. Related or not, this is the same problem that I had when I was learning how to ski-- not enough knee bend and a slouchy torso.
I'm going to let the blisters heal first, but this won't be my last barefoot run experiment.
I'm interested to hear if any of you have barefoot running experience, or are interested in trying it-- leave a comment! I am less interested to hear if any of you think I am a complete loon, but hey, I'm a comment whore, so you can leave that in the comments too, if you want.
Touching collection of essays, though, contrary to the title, some have very little to do with faith, per se. I did enjoy reading the book as I always find Anne Lamott really has a way with making her stories relatable. I'm about as far from a liberally-raised person with a tumultuous past as you can get, but I could still understand her because of her way with words.
Image via WikipediaYep, so, I admit. I'm kind of socially inept. Inadequate even. I sweat and stutter and I always think of my snappy comebacks when they're too slow to be snappy anymore. I am most described by people who know me in real life as "nice," which tells me they don't really know me at all, through no fault of their own.
My name is Sonja Foust. I’m a romance author and internet dork. 