Over the past two months, my Internet savvy has increased tenfold. It has less to do with a specific skills set and more to do with a particular approach to the digital quagmire. I’ve planted my stake in the cloud. I’m a producer of the Internet, and have as much influence on it as it has on me. (Amazing how a horizontal mindshift can take you up a few notches vertically).
Yet I don’t take to technology naturally. I’m comfortably learned, but still out of my element. I prefer routines because they are habit, not because they are inherently better. I suppose that’s how many people feel about reading the newspaper.
I’m on social networks, but I can’t say I’ve fully integrated into them. It feels a bit like selling out. I didn’t even know what a mashup was until today. I look at my dinky little blog and berate myself for failing to brand my image or use the Internet to my professional advantage. The links on my website are broken. I recognize that it lacks all the features of Web 2.0 – no fancy interface or graphics hardly any visuals for that matter. My mind is swarming with questions about how to improve, but one buzzes the loudest: What’s the point?
I’d be foolish to write off technology and the vast cloud of the Internet. Clearly, I use both to my advantage and I find the trajectory of ever changing technology interesting – to an extent.
There’s a limit to my fascination with how we can effect elections with tweets or blogging software’s ability to increase site traffic. I’ve learned to think digitally, but my heart still belongs to analog. What really grabs me is mystery and discovery. I find that in how we communicate face to face or via the written workd- something with characters and a clear beginning, middle and end – that can do that which other things cannot.
I want to learn, improve and be the best that I can, but I can’t forget my ultimate goal. When comes down to it, all I really want to do is tell a damn good story.