Thursday, October 25, 2012

Empowered by Anonymity

Let's talk a little bit about a word I can't say three times fast, but if called upon, could type three times fast.  The word I am referring to is, "anonymity".

People these days seem to bask in the ability to be anonymous.  I mean, let's face it, we are all a little bit more comfortable to do things that we would not normally do if we can do it from a place of concealment (I point to me and my blog).

Think about some of the things that we have the opportunity to do in relative anonymity.  In this technological age we live in, there are any number of things we can do in anonymity.  After all, most of the technology we use was designed by some guy living in his mothers basement and when they come out, they are socially awkward to the Nth degree. Therefore they needed something that would help them interact with people, but not actually interact with them.  Yes, because of these geeks, we are able to get on message boards and make comments on other people's posts by berating, making fun of, or agreeing with them and do so in obscure privacy.  We can go to blogs and comment on the articles that have been written or comment on others comments and do so anonymously.  In some cases we have to have a screen name to be able to comment, but on others, we can comment completely anonymously.  Really though, unless we know the person on the other end of "Sam I Am", anything that person posts under that screen name is done in obscure privacy. 

Another part of technology today is text messaging.  Of course we usually know who is texting us, however, it still gives us a measure of anonymity.  How so?  Well, when I was a little kid, and my parents would ask me what I thought was an embarrassing question, I would put a blanket over my head and answer the question.  If they could not see me, somehow it was easier to tell them that I had a crush on 15 year old girl when I was just 7 years old.  Almost certainly, it can be said that when we text message someone and tell them something we normally would not be able to say to them face to face, it's like we have pulled that blanket over our head so we can let them know what we could not bring ourselves to tell them face to face. 

Really, even while driving we are somewhat anonymous.  Of course others can see us, but after we cut someone off, or after they cut us off, we can, from the safety of our cars, yell at the other driver, or even get into a conversation with them using our limited knowledge of sign language. 

Yes, the ability to make ones self anonymous is empowering for some.  But really, what is anonymity in the sense we are talking about?  Cowardice, spinelessness, and gutlessness.  It's funny to me, in a sick and twisted way, that if we were in a grocery store, we would never start heading to the checkouts and break into a sprint with our cart full of groceries in order to beat the little old lady in front of us to the open checkout lane.  Why not?  Because for one, it is socially unacceptable to do so.  If we did that, everyone around us would be looking at us like we were a jerk, and rightly so.  There is also the possibility of the little old lady's body building grandson observing from a distance what we have done and him coming over to twist our head like a pepper mill.  Yet, you put that same little old lady and her freakishly large grandson in a Honda Civic and they are fair game.

I bring all of this up because over the past couple years I have had a few nasty comments left on a few different posts.  What makes me laugh is when these people leave there comments they don't even have the huevos to leave their name, it simply says, "Anonymous".  As I am typing this, I have a grin on my face because of the fact that the anonymity that they desire, really just makes them a coward of the highest order, and nobody respects anything they have taken the time and energy to type.  The latest comment left was obviously left by someone I know.  They said that my family name is "synonymous with 'chip on their shoulders'" and then proceeded to insult my grandparents.  Well, whoever you are, I would be happy to sit down and talk with you about whatever it is that my family or I did to you to make you such a bitter, gutless, twit.  However, I am sure you enjoy the anonymous darkness in which you dwell.  Much safer there, isn't it.

The moral of the story is, we should all be careful with the empowering anonymity that comes with the world we live in.  Even I have learned a lesson or two while writing this blog.  That being the case, I try hard to not hurt any one's feelings, because when you hurt feelings, you just end up in their living room trying to explain that most of what I say is very tongue in cheek or should not be taken too seriously.  However, like a very brilliant friend of mine has said on occasion, "Some people don't even know they have feelings until you hurt them."  Therefore, I like to think I am doing a public service and helping people get in touch with their feelings.  With that I offer you a wholehearted, "You are welcome!". 

Saturday, October 6, 2012

What makes Stinkin' Lincoln Stinkin' Lincoln?

These guys get me!
I am sure there are people out there that wonder why I am not exactly in love with living in Stinkin' Lincoln.  After all, it's a relatively nice place.  It's clean, there's a fairly low crime rate, you don't have to travel far to the Husker games and there is approximately one bar per capita along O Street alone.  So why the disdain for the state capital?  There are things that annoy me about this town, such as the traffic, the difference in the people, the Omaha haters and things like that, but those aren't great reasons to hate this place.  Really, I think when it boils right down to it, it's mostly the fact that it's not truly my home.  Omaha has always been and will always be home.  It's not because Omaha is such an awesome place that everything pales in comparison.  In all actuality it's the people.  It's my family and friends that I have been associated with for years and some for decades.  They are all people that understand me.

Here in Stinkin' Lincoln, I am a bit of an enigma.  Sometimes I will crack a joke and people won't even understand that I am joking, or I will make a statement and people will think I am joking.  Sometimes I will be very serious about a conversation or a task I am involved in and people will think I am cold and a bit of a jerk.  Or because I was at a meeting or something with someone and if I don't go seek that person out to glad hand with them before or after the meeting that person thinks I don't like them.  Or because I didn't answer my cell phone when they call, they think I am avoiding them.

I will say, I probably am a tough person to figure out.  For some reason though, in Omaha, people that have known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper, they get me. I can just be me and I don't have to be on guard all the time so I make sure I don't hurt someone's feelings or make them think I don't like them.  There really is nothing quite as wonderful as being able to just be ones self. 

It always amazes me how I will occasionally run into someone I knew before I left Omaha and we will have a conversation just like we had just seen each other the day before rather than there being 16 years in between our last conversation. 

I was reading a web article entitled, "The Top 5 Regrets People Have on Their Deathbed", and number 4 was, "I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends."  The great thing about the people I know from Omaha is that they make it very easy to stay in touch.  It's a rare occasion that someone you knew years ago treats you coldly or like you mean nothing to them now.  I am sure this is not exclusive to Omaha, but it's where I get to experience it, so it makes it special for me.  Therefore, wishing I had stayed in touch with my friends will most likely not be something I am regretting on my deathbed.  However, it's still fairly early in life.  I could still screw it up. 

After all things have been considered, I hope that Stinkin' Lincolnites will understand I don't really hate their beloved city.  I may poke fun at it from time to time, but I am sure that the Lincoln city planners really aren't Larry, Curly and Moe.  Really, it's just the fact that my real home is 55 miles to the Northeast.