They finally got me to join Facebook. By "they" I mean what appears to be the rest of the Western world (despite working on my PhD and the ostensibly theoretical tone of the following post, I refuse to argue semantics related to "The Western World" this evening).
Facebook scares me a bit. Partly because technology hates me. Partly because it's a data (not information) overload.
More importantly, I'm ambivalent as to what my Facebook presence ought to be.
As an instructor, I don't want to give my students access to my profile/pages. I'm informal in the classroom, but there's an appropriate distance to keep. Asking "Will you be my friend" does weird things to that distance. Former students - some more than others - can be OK. But anybody from less than a semester ago... I just think it's a bad idea to blur these lines more than necessary.
On the other hand, as a performer, I want to be as close to as many potential listeners as possible. That's what many performing/slamming poets do - use Facebook or MySpace to keep track of fans all over the place. It's exceptionally convenient for this purpose - I can advertise upcoming gigs, converse, release tracks, post photos, all somewhat easier than updating my website. And this closeness/ease runs right into the face of the previous desire.
Sometimes my students are also my audience. I don't perform in the classroom the same way I perform on stage, but sometimes a student (or group) will see me at the local open mic, or find video of me online. This sometimes results in said student(s) wanting to find out more. Great - but on what side of the line should I fall?
Still figuring this one out.
---
Sensations I've had in the last couple of days - and by sensations I mean images I've seen in my waking hours as though suddenly remembering them - sort of as if a memory ran concurrently with itself - not dreams:
Being in a cube with open sides and gray bars (unknown/unimportant material) for edges. I am facing somewhat to the right, because an edge is directly in front of me. The cube sudden droops on the left-hand side, and I move my arms to balance. The entire time, I'm watching myself from slightly above and to the right.
Gathering wet sand into a short and wide cone, then pushing the cone away from myself.
The road goes on forever, but there are driveways every fifty feet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment