I was sick earlier this week and now I'm playing catch-up with everything else. With this in mind, What the Whole Town Knew is on hold until next Monday.
Thank you everyone for reading and sharing. See you all in a few days.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
A Serious Consideration
I know, it's Monday and some of you have traversed scorching sands and stormy seas to get here and read the next chapter of What the Whole Town Knew. Sorry to disappoint, but I have had a serious consideration thrown my way. It concerns my blog, naturally, or else you'd all be reading Chapter 17, biting your nails down in anticipation of what will befall Lizzie. And is Officer Chambers making a pass at her? You'll have to wait until Wednesday to find out. Maybe.
What I have noticed since starting my Experiment is how much my blog stats jump on Mondays and Fridays. It became even more apparent when I neglected to post last Friday's chapter until the evening. Once it was posted and I let the whole world - or at least those who friend/follow me on various social media - know, my views doubled within half-an-hour. There were people waiting for my post announcement. Not going to lie, it completely made my night.
Now comes my slight dilemma. While my blog is getting lots of traffic, my bank account, sadly, is not. Before anyone clicks off, thinking I have suddenly turned into a Public Radio fund drive, rest assure that is not the case. Rather, I have come up with what I hope is a solution that will allow me to make something off what I put up here and for you all to let me know how much you love me, uh, my work.
Flattr.com is a company I have recently discovered. It allows users to set an amount they wish to spend over the course of a month. They then can go about the internet, happily clicking on any web content with the 'Flattr' button. At the end of the month, Flattr tallies your clicks and divides your preset spending limit between them.
An small, unobtrusive button on my blog. Seems like a better solution than paid ads or subscription fees. If you like it, you click. Don't like it, no clicky. What I want to know is how you, my loving readers, feel about it. Would anyone use it? Or will you run in hordes away from me, never to discover what happens to Lizzie? Let me know in the comments.
I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
What I have noticed since starting my Experiment is how much my blog stats jump on Mondays and Fridays. It became even more apparent when I neglected to post last Friday's chapter until the evening. Once it was posted and I let the whole world - or at least those who friend/follow me on various social media - know, my views doubled within half-an-hour. There were people waiting for my post announcement. Not going to lie, it completely made my night.
Now comes my slight dilemma. While my blog is getting lots of traffic, my bank account, sadly, is not. Before anyone clicks off, thinking I have suddenly turned into a Public Radio fund drive, rest assure that is not the case. Rather, I have come up with what I hope is a solution that will allow me to make something off what I put up here and for you all to let me know how much you love me, uh, my work.
Flattr.com is a company I have recently discovered. It allows users to set an amount they wish to spend over the course of a month. They then can go about the internet, happily clicking on any web content with the 'Flattr' button. At the end of the month, Flattr tallies your clicks and divides your preset spending limit between them.
An small, unobtrusive button on my blog. Seems like a better solution than paid ads or subscription fees. If you like it, you click. Don't like it, no clicky. What I want to know is how you, my loving readers, feel about it. Would anyone use it? Or will you run in hordes away from me, never to discover what happens to Lizzie? Let me know in the comments.
I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
When Society Dictates the Norms
Brace yourselves - another 'Mommy' post. This one concerns my five-year-old son.
For those who don't know me or my family, I have a four-year-old daughter and the aforementioned son. Both have taken dance lessons for years. Both are friendly, attention-loving goofballs. We encourage creativity and letting them do things they enjoy. It should come as no surprise that they have dress-up trunks with girl and boy appropriate costuming in them and occasionally they'll wear stuff from each other's stash. Innocent playtime; they think they're being silly and making everyone laugh.
A few days ago, I was visiting my grandmother with my son. She had picked up a tutu for my daughter. While she was showing it to us, she turned to my son and said, 'Gee, you'd look cute in it.' My son took the challenge, getting into it and doing some spins, making both me and my grandmother laugh. I snapped a picture on my phone and posted it to Facebook.
My son - and daughter - always want to look at pictures of themselves when I take them. He looked at the one of him in the tutu and laughed. 'I look so silly, Mommy.' I agreed with him, as did many of my friends and family who posted comments on the picture. A picture of a five-year-old, being goofy and having fun.
Unfortunately, not everyone sees a picture that way. There were a few negative comments left and finally I was asked to take the picture down. The person who requested that it come down did so because they feared bullying. If someone my son goes to soccer or plays with in any social setting sees it, they might make fun of him. They argued it was going to be hard enough with him being a dancer without adding to it. Eventually I relented and made the picture private.
While I changed the settings, it made me think about my son and what kind of message it would send to him if he knew what I was doing. Would he think it wasn't ok to be himself because of what others might think? That what everyone else thought was more important? Aren't those who can overcome society norms the very people we look up to as extraordinary? Why would I want to stifle that in my own son?
As of now, he doesn't know his picture is no longer up on my Facebook page. He hasn't asked to see it again and I haven't mentioned it. I'm afraid of what will happen when he finds out. What will I tell him? That some people are so close-minded they can't understand the joy he brought to his great-grandmother? That there are people who are afraid of being themselves, so they hide in the safe confines of what society tells us is normal and dislike anyone who ventures outside those comfort levels? Or maybe I'll tell him the world just isn't ready quite yet for his brand of extraordinaire.
For those who don't know me or my family, I have a four-year-old daughter and the aforementioned son. Both have taken dance lessons for years. Both are friendly, attention-loving goofballs. We encourage creativity and letting them do things they enjoy. It should come as no surprise that they have dress-up trunks with girl and boy appropriate costuming in them and occasionally they'll wear stuff from each other's stash. Innocent playtime; they think they're being silly and making everyone laugh.
A few days ago, I was visiting my grandmother with my son. She had picked up a tutu for my daughter. While she was showing it to us, she turned to my son and said, 'Gee, you'd look cute in it.' My son took the challenge, getting into it and doing some spins, making both me and my grandmother laugh. I snapped a picture on my phone and posted it to Facebook.
My son - and daughter - always want to look at pictures of themselves when I take them. He looked at the one of him in the tutu and laughed. 'I look so silly, Mommy.' I agreed with him, as did many of my friends and family who posted comments on the picture. A picture of a five-year-old, being goofy and having fun.
Unfortunately, not everyone sees a picture that way. There were a few negative comments left and finally I was asked to take the picture down. The person who requested that it come down did so because they feared bullying. If someone my son goes to soccer or plays with in any social setting sees it, they might make fun of him. They argued it was going to be hard enough with him being a dancer without adding to it. Eventually I relented and made the picture private.
While I changed the settings, it made me think about my son and what kind of message it would send to him if he knew what I was doing. Would he think it wasn't ok to be himself because of what others might think? That what everyone else thought was more important? Aren't those who can overcome society norms the very people we look up to as extraordinary? Why would I want to stifle that in my own son?
As of now, he doesn't know his picture is no longer up on my Facebook page. He hasn't asked to see it again and I haven't mentioned it. I'm afraid of what will happen when he finds out. What will I tell him? That some people are so close-minded they can't understand the joy he brought to his great-grandmother? That there are people who are afraid of being themselves, so they hide in the safe confines of what society tells us is normal and dislike anyone who ventures outside those comfort levels? Or maybe I'll tell him the world just isn't ready quite yet for his brand of extraordinaire.
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