BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yep, social networking is a part of our lives. How’s that for title-content disagreement? Well, read on…

Like I said, social networking is a part of our lives. You can’t get away from it. Oh, I suppose you CAN get away from it if you are an off the grid sort of person. Perhaps you can even get away from it if you are a somewhat-on-the-grid but not-on-the-griddle sort of person. Fact is, I have a buddy who is not on Faceborked. He even refuses to be on Faceborked. I’m not sure if it’s because he fears getting borked, or if he’s just afraid he’d get addicted to Farmville.

The thing is, if you are like me, you don’t really have any choice but to be “into the social networking scene.” Honestly, I’m one of those “on the grid off the griddle” types. If I had my druthers, I wouldn’t poke social networking with an elebenty foot pole. I have too much other stuff that needs doing—but, again, I chose my career and with it comes the pain of social networking, which is why you can find me on most every social network out there.

Well… You “yoosta could.”

Over the past few months I’ve done some informal analysis of my own. I’ve taken some scrapings from the various social networks, dissolved them water, then proceeded to experiment with various acid/base titration setups, whirl crap around in a centrifuge, and even grow a few cultures in Petri dishes. (The little, round Pyrex dishes, not Rob and Laura Petri… Although, Laura was definitely a dish… but I digress…)

Here’s the thing – I’ve found that there are some social networks out there that are more or less worthless to me. This revelation, of course, prompted me to jettison said networks. The other thing I discovered is that on certain networks – Faceborked, for instance – my presence was split in such a way that I was ending up doing double work for half the benefit. This wasn’t helping my productivity in the writing arena at all. So, while jettisoning Faceborked wasn’t an option, consolidating it a bit was.

Therefore, if you are a “friend” of my Faceborked “profile” you have probably been seeing this message (or one very similar to it) lately:

I’m streamlining my social networking, therefore the M. R. Sellars PAGE: http://facebook.com/SellarsMR will soon become my PRIMARY Facebook presence. This Murvel R. Sellars “profile” will be DELETED at the end of AUGUST. To stay connected go over and LIKE the M. R. Sellars PAGE.

I will be repeating myself, on Faceborked, daily, right up until the end of August. Why? Because I want this to stay current in the newsfeed, and because not everyone logs onto Faceborked daily, therefore I don’t want to be receiving strange emails in the middle of the night from people I don’t really know, all asking me WTF happened to my profile and why did I leave Faceborked.

I didn’t. I just moved into a bigger house.

Who am I kidding? I’ll get a truckload of those emails anyway. At least I’ll be able to respond with a link to this blog entry instead of explaining myself 4617 times.

More to come…

Murv

I went to college.

More than one of them, actually. I have all sorts of college credits racked up in different areas of study. Odds are many of them have expired, much like a gallon of milk from 1991, but I’m sure there are a few that still haven’t reached their “use or freeze by” date. However, one of the things I don’t have to show for all of that studying is a piece of paper. Well… I have all manner of pieces of paper, to be honest. What I’m talking about is the proverbial “sheepskin.” That piece of faux parchment, vellum, what-have-you, that officially attaches a pair (or more) of letters from the alphabet as a suffix to my name.

So, nope. I don’t have an AA. Never even been to a meeting. I have, however, ridden on their airplanes more times than I care to count.

And, I also don’t have a BA, Baracus or otherwise. I do, however, “piddy da foo” who thinks s/he is better than me just because they have a couple of letters that allow them to wear gaudy jewelry.

Nor do I have a BS, even though I’m pretty damn good at spouting it when I need to do so. All you have to do is check my blog for evidence of that fact. Truth is, I should have a PhD in BS. An official Piled high and Deep in BullSh*t. Yep. That sounds like the perfect degree for me, but alas, I have neither.

I also don’t have a MA. I had one, but she passed away back in 1987. That’s a whole different story. And nope, no MS either… Well, actually that’s not quite true. E K doesn’t do the Mrs. thing, so I guess I sort of have a Ms. Although, one doesn’t really have The E K. She has you. It’s sort of a control thing with her.

So… Why didn’t I ever bother to get myself a set of letters to append to my name? Or, if the college recruiter who was courting me so hard back in nineteen-cough-cough had been given her way, a D and an R to put in front of my name – in the form of an MD sort of Dr.

Well, in her case it’s because I don’t particularly care for sick people, but that’s another story entirely.

In the case of any of the other paired up, tripled up, or screwed up selections from the alphabet, it’s simple. I became fed up with academia. Why? Because I figured it out too soon. What did I figure out? That’s simple too. I figured out that sticking a mess of letters behind my name wouldn’t make me happy. They wouldn’t accomplish much of anything, really, other than wave a flag to the world that was meant to say, “I know a whole bunch of sh*t because all of these other people say I do.” Besides, all I’ve ever really wanted to do is write books, and that’s what I do. If I was writing a textbook about Quantum Physics I could maybe understand the need for a PhD (although, as I said, all it does is denote that someone else thinks I know what I’m talking about – right up until they disagree with me.) Truth is, I really don’t see where a degree would convince people to buy fiction—

“Hey, Joe. Have you read those fictional suspense-thrillers by M. R. Sellars? He has a PhD in Basket Weaving.”

“Well damn, Fred… A PhD? I’m going to rush out and buy the whole series!”

Yeah… I just don’t see it.

Now, I’m certainly not diminishing the accomplishment of those who seek those letters. I’m just saying I wasn’t cut out for committing a mess of silliness to memory so that a bunch of folks who really don’t give a rat’s ass about anything other than the size of their office, or where the next grant is coming from can certify that I know it. Truth is some of my best friends are packing around AAs, BAs, BSs, and MAs. My niece is sporting a PhD. Am I proud of their accomplishments? Hell yes. Do I feel like I need to spend 250K (minimum) to get myself some Alphabet Bling for my name?  Not so much.

There’s also the issue of what to do with all that memorization once I, well, you know, memorize it. Teach? Why? So that I can tell a bunch of other folks that they know what I know? Doesn’t really seem like true critical thinking to me. (Don’t take that the wrong way. I also have many friends and relatives who are teachers and I think they are great. If that is what they love doing, I support them and I also think they are NOT paid enough. So, I have nothing against teachers. I just think that I am better suited to entertain.)

So… Why am I writing about college? Well, that’s simple too. My daughter is friggin’ brilliant. Ever since Kindergarten she’s been in the gifted and talented program at her school, and she has also qualified for, and been attending, College for Kids classes during the Summer and Winter sessions. Learning stuff. Quenching her thirst for knowledge, and racking up points toward admission into college when she reaches that age. At this very moment I am sitting in a study area of the science building of one of the local Community Colleges while she is attending her full day of classes. Yep, I’m writing this blog from Kahllidge. (Obviously just a bit in advance of its early morning deployment. Gotta love scheduling on WordPress.)

However, I don’t guess that fully explains why I’m writing about it, now does it?

Well, I can sum it up this way. Earlier I ran into a gaggle of the students – this batch was actually younger than my daughter. There they were, wandering the halls of academia on their way to their next class, complete with Garanimals, Spiderman backpacks, and serious expressions plastered onto their little faces. The kind of serious expressions that made them look painfully constipated.

All in all, they sorta reminded me of me way back when I was in college…

More to come…

Murv