Where In The World Is Jules Howe?

MapMy good pal and I – along with a couple of other dudes who love film – just returned from the Sundance Film Festival.  I was going to post some cool stuff about it along with a funny story about what happens when you forget to put your glasses on in the morning.

But, no.

I have to tell THIS story.

For anyone who knows me or reads my blog (thank you, thank you if you do), I am not well-versed on the ways of technology and how to use it nor how it uses me without my knowledge.

Flying home, aforementioned peeps and I were talking about privacy settings on all the devices we lug around like appendages we can’t live without.  This is somewhat ironic since my girlfriend was just telling me a few nights before that stuff comes up on her Facebook page about where she is or where she’s been. She and I both pondered how in the Sam Hill that happens. I told her I don’t think that’s ever happened to me.

As usual, I was wrong.

I just found out from the Timeline thing that I was at Mission Ranch recently. There was a map….and a little red pin showing the exactly location of the place. Yeah, okay. I was there with a group over the holidays. The relevance of that and why anyone would give a shit is my first thought.

Then I give it a little more thought and my blood pressure goes up and I have to take a Xanax and pace around my office for a while.  Not out of fear, I’m just pissed off.

Fortunately, I don’t have any stalkers that I’m aware of because Facebook (or whatever device made this happen) put a giant “She Is Here” target on my back without me knowing it. But the worse thing about all this is that I don’t have any idea how to control it because of my limited technological prowess. I’m at an extreme disadvantage. I suddenly feel like a patsy in a world of I-don’t-know-what.

Advertisers? Marketers? A government experiment?  What!!

Naturally, I want to know how this happens but I’m afraid to ask because I fear it involves a learning curve and at my age, I’m pretty set on going straight.

But I don’t think I can do that. I have to know because I’m stuck in a world I know very little about soon to become just a speck in a nebulous universe of clouds and hashtags and faceless pings and tracking devices that I don’t even know I’m carrying around.

[You do know that the proliferation of technology in our society was what drove the Unibomber crazy, right?]

We saw a film at Sundance called Afternoon Delight where the main character has a meltdown which I identified with immediately.

It was about The Cloud and what the motherfucking hell is it?  And what is it capable of? I mean think about it.  It’s this “area” that we can’t touch or feel or see that stores all of our digital belongings.  It’s not a place. It’s not a thing.  It’s godlike.  We have to trust and have faith that It will always be there for us…therefore It merits a capital letter when referring to It.

Just like God (unless you’re so inclined to refer to Him as g-d in which case It might need to become I-t for some).

Seriously, folks. I’m gobsmacked by all this shit. It simultaneously fascinates me and repels me. I have nothing more to say so  I’ll just quote Mick and Keith who had no idea their words way back in the day would have such relevance today:

Hey you!  Get off of my cloud!

I have no idea if this cloud thing has anything to do with anything and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. It’s too exhausting to decipher. It’s all the same to me and I am stuck here. Trapped. I need this stuff and hate this stuff. I consume it, I gobble it up and it threatens to choke me. I try to spit it out but can’t.

So I just swallow hard and hope for the best.

P.S. Just so you know, today I’ll be in Monterey getting my legs waxed at 606 Lighthouse Avenue at 1:00.  Then, I’ll probably stop in Carmel for a coffee with some friends at that little place between Areias Jewelry and the Coach Store on Ocean around 2:30ish. Then to Whole Foods at Del Monte Center where I’ll purchase some nice baby arugula and some roast chicken.  I’ll be there around 4:30 if you’re in an abduction kind of a mood. Say! How  about I make it easy for you…I’ll bring the duct tape.

The Forever Conversation

My days in hiding have officially come to an end.

I wasn’t actually hiding, per se. I was just kind of…anonymous.

I had e-mail. That was about it.

Now I have Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, multiple e-mail addresses, Godaddy domain names, lots of cool Apps that I don’t know how to use [yet], Google thingies, bells and whistles,  pins I can put in things that interest me that others can see and ponder why my deep and abiding love of Jimmy Iovine has consumed my life. [ooooops, the Jimmy shrine is still a secret]

I can follow, be followed, watched, poked, prodded, reminded, pinged, tagged, linked, attached, hooked up and dialed in…. sometimes, I don’t even know I’ve done it until I get a notice or a message or a ping from someone who I may or may not know saying they like something or another I did or posted. Really? What did I do, again?

Case in point:  Cake and Pinterest. Someone trying to teach me how to use it pulled a picture from HER Pinterest page as a quick example of the wonderful things I could do on the site.  Like post pictures of cake.  I started getting Facebook messages about how yummy that cake looked and how cool it was that I posted it for all to see and salivate over.

Just to be sure….that was somebody else’s cake. Not my cake.

Don’t get me wrong. I like cake. In fact, I love cake. But I see no real value in posting a picture of it on a web-site so people know I like it. I’d rather just speak it to another person face to face which feels way more….intimate. Or better yet, eat the cake in front of them so they really, really, really understand just how much I like it.   BTW…I also dig sex. A lot. I’m wondering if I should post pictures of sex on my Pinterest page alongside the cake? Probably not as to avoid any confusion. Probably not a good idea to do it in front of someone to prove my point, I suppose, but you get my drift.

For the record, I believe eating cake and having sex are two distinctly different activities and any respective imagery should remain appropriately segregated on Pinterest.

This everything-is-public concept hit me hard  in the shower yesterday [as epiphanies often do] between  shampooing and shaving my legs.  This forever conversation with people via the internet will never end.  On the contrary, it’s just beginning.  It’s 24/7…the open all night diner, the bar with a vodka fountain that never goes dry, the Insta-everything that’s making me into I don’t know what. A true entrepreneur? A target? A victim?  A wannabe? A pathetic wretch who believes people give a shit if I like cake or shave my legs?

I’m not sure yet.

P.S.  Generally I wax my legs but sometimes a girl just has to be smooth right now! Thought you might like to know that.

 

 

Fear Of A Profound Nature.

Facebook.

Yes, I fear this place.

Perhaps it’s a misguided fear but I’m one to err on the side of caution most of the time.  Emphasis on the word “most”.  Sometimes I charge blindly into the woodchipper without safety goggles and end up blinding myself  but that’s another blog subject (note to self: woodchipper as a blog idea).

But back to Facebook.

My nephew is a card-carrying cult member.  So is my neice who, in a ploy to lure me into Facebook membership has withheld e-mail pics of my grand-nephew Noah and posted them exclusively on her Facebook page just slightly out of my reach.  My gene pool seems predestined to gather here.  Perhaps I’m adopted?  (another note to self).   Even my sister is on it and she’s more of a computer illiterate that I which fuels my fear even more.  

I have received these little “knocks” from Facebook notifying me that I’m a friend of a friend who recommended a friend who wants to be my friend.   These knocks have gone unanswered until a few days ago when I got a knock from someone I met recently who is really a cool dude and his wife is a really cool dudette.  Now, it’s one thing to ignore your own family since they expect it, but a cool couple who just wants to say howdy?  That’s another bucket of fish altogether. 

I found myself in a sticky wicket of a social nature and I do not like sticky wickets of a social nature.

So I ventured in.

I did not like it.

But I wrote something on their “wall” anyway even though I had no idea what I was doing or what this wall was or where my words would ultimately end up.  I think I actually said that on my post.

Then WHAM-O!  I got a flood of other Facebook notifications. 

Is this like an Internet marketing thing? 

Does Facebook just wander around searching for people’s e-mail addresses that members put down as friends and whenever that e-mail actually enters Facebook for the first time they grab it, put it in a stranglehold and then pepper you with so-and-so-wants-to-be-your-friend notifications??  Holy shit!  To me, this is sick and twisted and propels me back to my grade school days when I’d  lay awake at night and pray that all the other kids would like me and that big mean girl, Karen Bluer, wouldn’t pick on me like she did poor Lisa Brooks? (name has been changed to protect the innocent).  Poor Lisa, she always smelled of urine.  I remember it like it was yesterday. But I did manage to win over Karen by giving her access to my board game KABOOM which she seemed to be fascinated with.

But alas, if I ever want to pictures of Canadian nephew ever again, I suppose I’ll have to conquer my fear. 

I have to resign myself to the Facebook learning curve and familiarize myself with prompts such as:

Write on so and so’s “wall” or give a “gift” to so and so.   I have also heard speak of something called the Ring of Fire, or Pit of Fire or something of that nature that requires some sort of ransom or pleading for one’s  cyberlife. 

I want  no part of that fire thing.

By the way, it appears that I, too, have a wall.  But I don’t know how to find it. 

Facebook has also told me that my profile is naked.