The hardest question I have had to ask another parent is “do you have a gun?” And if the answer is yes, the requisite follow-up questions: how do you store the gun?  How do you store the ammunition?  Do your children know about your gun?

I don’t know why this is the hardest question for me; why I cringe as I ask it in a way that I don’t cringe when I ask if the parents have a car seat for my kids in their car, or could they serve only vegetarian food to the twins.  I ask a lot of questions and give a lot of information before I allow my child to go over someone else’s house.  I like to get to know the family.  Gun ownership is just one more piece of information that I’m seeking.

Maybe the question of “do you have a gun?” is so difficult because in this culture, the question sounds like a judgment.  And maybe it is because it often feels as if our country is broken down into two sides: gun owners and non-gun owners.

My discomfort with guns stems from my associations with guns, in the same way that someone else’s comfort with guns probably stems from their associations.  If you grew up hunting or as part of a military family or having a parent in an armed service such as the police department, chances are that your associations may be very different from my associations.  You may have warm feelings towards guns.  You may see a gun as a tool bringing you food to eat or protection, or a tool that allows a family member the ability to do their job safely.

But I don’t have those associations, and therefore, my feelings about guns are negative.  I’m always aware that those feelings could be otherwise, if I had grown up in a different family or in a different place, therefore, I do try to keep all judgment out of my question.  Even if I equally know that we all enter into questions with biases and answers that we want to hear.

So it is an awkward question that I awkwardly ask over and over again.  I hate myself when I feel intimidated and don’t ask.  I wish it was socially acceptable to send out a questionnaire to all the kids in town rather than have to ask the question individually each time my kids are invited to a new house in the same way that we all know about each other’s food allergies.  Without ever having to ask, I can tell you every child in their grade at school who has a food allergy, and I adjust my behaviour around those children accordingly.  We are given that information by the school about food allergies to keep children safe.  I wish we had the same information about gun ownership, which, in my mind, is another piece of information we could have that could keep our children safe.

Again, my association with guns is that they are unsafe.  That they are used for death.  Those are my only associations with weapons.  Again, if I had different associations with guns, I may not see their presence as such a huge deal.  I may even welcome sending my children to a house with guns, thinking that my children are safer in their presence.  But I don’t believe that; and my belief comes from my associations with guns.

I think what has surprised me the most is that no one has ever asked if we have guns.  Perhaps they already know the answer intuitively, in the same way that there are people I can guess own guns and people I can guess don’t own guns based on the way they speak about guns.  And maybe that is why the question is also so awkward; because I feel as if I’m the only one who asks.  It makes me wonder what goes through the other parent’s head when I ask the question.

Josh forwarded me a moving article yesterday on a mother who is telling people to ask about guns.  Her son was killed during a sleepover at a friend’s house when the friend picked up one of four unsecured guns that the family owned and pulled the trigger.  Josh’s statement preceding the link was “Did you see this? We’re not nuts…”

Are we not nuts?

Sometimes it feels like we’re nuts about this.  And sometimes it feels like everyone else is nuts about this.  And sometimes I don’t care what anyone thinks or feels about the question: I just want my kids safe.

We allow our kids to go over a house with a gun when we are assured by the parents that their guns are properly secured.  That their child knows of the gun’s presence.  That their child has been taught to respect guns and not see them as toys.  I am still uncomfortable with guns, but I can step back and see them as objects that are neither good nor bad; there are just gun owners who are responsible or irresponsible.  And while I may not agree with the responsible gun owner’s gun ownership, I can, at least, respect our differences and recognize that we both have the same goal in mind: to keep our kids safe.  We just have different ways of going about it.

June 21st was National Ask Day.  But really, every day should be a day that you ask.

Still talking about the blogosphere and social media.

Image: Ali T via Flickr

A long time ago (well, long in blogosphere terms), there was a movement called naked blogging.  The term meant different things to different people, but the general idea was to blog with absolute transparency.  To admit to your foibles.  To celebrate your accomplishments.  To not create a persona but instead to let it all hang out, announcing to the world, this is who I am, with no boundaries between yourself and the reader.

There is a lot of good that can be said for naked blogging.  It can be beneficial to the writer to own their past, laying bare a struggle such as alcoholism, or make sense of something emotional, akin to therapy.  A lot of us engage in a form of naked blogging by writing frankly about infertility.  We don’t sugarcoat it or sweep it under the rug.  There is a lot of good that comes from putting the good, bad, and the ugly parts of your story online.

And it’s clear how the reader benefits from naked blogging.  Nothing makes you feel less alone than going online and seeing someone else discussing something that affects you too.  In small towns, where people may not feel comfortable speaking out about a sensitive topic, to be able to come online and read someone else’s experience: it’s priceless.  It has likely saved lives.  I fully believe that while there are people who feed off of someone else’s experience, growing more anxious or upset than they would have if they had never heard the other person’s story — borrowing trouble, as some would call it — I believe that there are just as many who are quelled by someone else’s experience.  Who stop feeling abnormal in general and realize that they’re only abnormal in comparison to their small, inner circle.  Online, there are thousands of infertile women I connect with even though in my face-to-face world, I don’t know many who have had a similar reproductive experience.

It makes me feel like I’m part of a larger whole vs. being an anomaly.

Even though I rarely hear the term “naked blogging” anymore — probably because it leads to all sorts of uncomfortable Google searches — we do hear a lot about transparency.  Accountability.  Honesty.  Authenticity.  Truthfulness.  All those terms are positive terms.  I can’t think of a mainstream blogger with a large readership (let’s say larger than 5000 visitors per day) who currently blogs anonymously.  Sure, there are people who still use their blogging handle, but for the most part, with a quick search, we can find their real name because they’ve given us their real name.  They needed to do so once they got book deals or speaking gigs.  And the reality is that humans are too curious: once someone enters the mainstream, it’s a matter of time before enough digging reveals someone’s identity.  But most of the time, the person steps forward with their own identity after a brief time period of anonymity.

I think that there is a layer of honesty and authenticity on pseudonymous blogs that doesn’t exist under people writing under their real name, a freeing element when talking in depth about grief or anxiety that people wouldn’t feel comfortable stating if they knew that their boss or their mother or their best friend was going to read it.  But being hidden isn’t a coveted trait, you know?  We associate it with trolls, the dregs of the Internet.  They use anonymity to say whatever is on their mind thinking that it will never be traced back to their name.  And what they say is usually cruel.  Most people don’t go anonymous to say positive, kind things.  So we’ve started to think of anonymity as a negative trait, when it obviously isn’t when utilized well.

But under our real names, I’ve always wondered when modest blogging would catch on.  It’s certainly not as interesting; this idea of reserving thoughts just for yourself.  Circumspection instead of nakedness.  Kindness instead of blunt honesty.

I always think of that Jim Carrey film, Liar Liar and how everyone was destroyed by his honesty.  We sometimes need filters in order to allow other people to have self-esteem.  And in general, it’s sometimes better not to know what people think.  Not just what they think about us, but what they think about the world.  Sometimes ignorance really is bliss; and I don’t mean ignorance in the negative sense.  Sometimes it really is better not to know.

Do you think we can benefit from not knowing things.  Do you have a great respect for a blogger who lets it all hang out, or do you feel as if there are some things best left obscured or reserved?  Are you drawn to naked blogging, and would you want to hear an honest assessment of yourself, or do you think that it’s sometimes unhealthy to know all? (Even if our curiosity usually gets the best of us.)

We’re at the turning point in our discussion on the blogosphere and social media.

Image: Ali T via Flickr

There used to be a guy who worked at Politics and Prose — my favourite bookstore — who knew my reading habits so well that he could recommend or dismiss with frightening accuracy.  Let’s call him Bookstore Boy.  There were books that he saved me from buying (and when I checked them out of the library, he was totally right — I returned them without reading them) and others that I would have never found if he hadn’t pointed them out.  He introduced me to Jasper Fforde (and made the store a lot of money because that man wrote a lot of books) and kept me away from… well… I won’t list those authors here out of politeness.  Mostly because what he was telling me was that he didn’t think I would enjoy those books.  And he was almost always right.

I really appreciated Bookstore Boy and was amazed that he could do this for so many customers.  I wasn’t the only person who got his recommendations.  Somehow he kept all his regular customer’s preferences inside his brain.  And yeah, I probably bought more books that I would have under other circumstances because I felt honoured that someone paid close attention to my reading habits and could pinpoint which pieces of traditional literature I would enjoy and which ones would bore me.

Bookstore Boy no longer works there.  The current staff no longer knows me.  It definitely has affected my shopping habits to be without his guidance.

It felt good when Bookstore Boy paid attention to me and curated my reading list, so I don’t know why it feels like such a violation when a data mining company amasses a list of my preferences using an algorithm and tries to feed me advertisements they think would resonate with me.  Especially since I put that information out there.  Bookstore Boy operated under a lot of guesswork as to which books would resonate with me, because he knew it wasn’t just subject matter.  That the voice of the narrator played a huge role in whether or not I connected with the book.  There was a much greater chance for Bookstore Boy to get it wrong, but I never minded when he stepped in to take a book out of my hands and replace it with something he thought I’d like more.  Whereas data companies are merely feeding me — via ads on the side of Facebook or Gmail — what I already said I liked.

With the Bookstore Boy, it was flattering.

With the data mining company, it feels like a violation.

When Bookstore Boy told me I would like Jasper Fforde, I confidently purchased the first book on his recommendation.

When Barnes and Noble tells me that I may like this author, it feels like a stalker breathing down my neck.

Data mining companies have — on average — about 1500 pieces of information about you.  Yes, you.

That’s a lot of information.  There are a little under 314 million Americans.  That means that they have at least 1,500 pieces of information on about 2/3rds of all Americans.  And less information — but they still have information — on 1/3rd of all Americans.  If you are currently an adult living in the US that uses the Internet, chances are you fit into that 2/3rds category.

And for the most part, so what?  What does it matter if Barnes and Noble knows I like dystopian fiction?  What does it matter if a site knows where I like to buy pizza or where I go on vacation or which activities my kids enjoy?  Who cares?  They can serve me ads all they want, and it’s always my decision whether I buy something.  If you look at it from a helpful angle, giving me targeted ads that actually reflect my interests is more helpful than getting bombarded with a lot of noise, most of it non-applicable to my life.  For instance, I like hearing about new books.  If the ads I got were for new books, and an algorithm could fine tune the work of a human, somehow being programed to know which sort of books not only overlapped by genre but by type of voice… well… it would be like having a virtual version of my Bookstore Boy.

So why does it feel so damn creepy when a site essentially says — like a stalker — I know you.  I know all about you.  I’m watching you.  I want to be close to you.  What is the difference between Facebook and a stalker?  Because they sort of look like the same thing sometimes.  Especially once we remove the human contact afforded by my Bookstore Boy.  In both cases, the goal was to move a product, sell books.  But in one, I had the warmth of human contact guiding the process.  And in the other, I have a cold algorithm which feels as if it takes much more than it gives.  It feels like someone walking on my heels, chanting, “Buy something!  Buy something!  What about this?  What about that?  Buy!”

And amid all of this, I need to say that I get a large chunk of my book recommendation these days from Amazon’s customers-also-bought ticker midway down the page.  It feels a little bit like a hands-off Bookstore Boy, quietly stating, “this is what other people also liked who liked this book.  If it matters to you.”

As a side note, the Daily Dot had a post recently about privacy online that said, “If data is the most-coveted resource of our time, we should harvest and mine it sustainably.”  If we harvest data too quickly, in a far-reaching collection frenzy, people will get scared and stop putting stuff online.  But if we mine it sustainably, then data should be there for the taking for years and years to come.  Sort of a scary thought, nu?

If we’ve put it online; if we’ve listed all sort of details on our social media sites, liking companies and checking in with our location when we go to a store or restaurant, knowing full well that it will be used to sell us something in the future, is it really a violation?  And why do people call it a violation when we’ve offered up all the information in the first place and all another person (or computer) has done is pull together all the facts into one, neat document?

Taking a break from over-analyzing the Internet to write the Roundup.

Actually, I’m not going to apologize for over-analyzing the Internet.  It’s important that we ask ourselves these questions as we go along, even when we can’t do anything about the way the Internet operates.  I think it’s important to take a step back, especially when the Internet looks so happy and shiny and helpful, and check our gut to see if we’re operating within our comfort zone.

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So remember that speed reading software I wrote about a few months ago?  It’s the free app of the week on the iTunes store.  Or there is an app that is exactly like that software.  I can’t tell if it’s made by the same people.  But it operates in the exact same way.

I’ve been using it to read articles that I kinda sorta want to read.  Like I feel like I should read them, but I’m sort of dragging my heels about it.  I don’t use it for blog posts that I actually want to savour.  Or think about.  Or sit with for a bit.

I like that it tells you how much time it will take to finish the article before you begin so you know that it will only take you X seconds or minutes to read.

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Time for your weekly nag:

This is just your friendly nudge to do your weekly backup.  I know, I know, who has the time to create backups on a weekly basis?  No one.  But you still need to do it and forgo ten minutes of something else, once a week.  Right now, before you do anything else, use this post to roll through a quick backup of your email, documents, images, blog, social media accounts, and mobile devices.  Reading the Roundup on the go and don’t have the ability to do your backup right now?  Email yourself a copy of the Roundup so that the email will serve as a visual reminder to get this task done.  Ten minutes of your time once a week may save you a major loss of time and data down the road.  Don’t have regrets.  So, on your marks, get set, back up!

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments in order to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

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And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “It’s Still Hard to Express the Sadness that Comes from Being Unable to Have Children” (TheJournal)
• “My Womb is a Graveyard: Healing Body & Mind” (Spiritbabycomehome)
• “Change” (Diary of a Mom)

Okay, now my choices this week.

My Scar Smiles at Me has a post about traveling home — home being both a literal place and the people we meet in life.  I especially love the moment when the little girl returns the stuffed animal she had been minding for four years.  And the sweetness of this thought: “I am deeply part of this family and many other families’ lives. Their children think of me a special aunt and as a friend and as someone they can count on. Their parents have me down as their emergency contact number. I fill in as a babysitter and confidant. I am part of the team…. who knows if I ever get to give it a go myself… but today I am feeling blessed that I know I have showered loved on children and it has come back to me 10 fold.”  Isn’t that gorgeous?  I had chills down my arms when I read it.

The Empress and the Fool has a post about trying to make decisions when you don’t have clear-cut answers to guide your decision-making process.  It’s about coming to terms with the things we can’t know since the need to know why is such a huge part of her personality.  The post is really about how infertility sometimes keeps us from being ourselves.  It keeps the maternal personalities from mothering, the extroverts from socializing, and the why-askers from knowing.

A bout of insomnia has Serenity wondering what she inherited from her grandfather.  And I love the ending so much, especially what she learned from her grandfather that she is passing along to her son: “I give it to Lucky because I remember how good it felt to have that kind of love and affection, how safe I felt with my Grandpa C. I do it because I always want Lucky to feel loved and safe with me. Because as he grows, that’s going to be what he remembers.”  What we inherit aren’t always physical traits or personality characteristics.

Lastly, Waiting for Little Feet has a post about reclaiming her blog space.  Posts like this pop up often, and it suddenly occurred to me just how young the blogosphere is.  That we haven’t been navigating changes in life status for very long online.  No wonder there are few guidelines to get you through.

The roundup to the Roundup: I think it’s important to ask these questions about our online usage and comportment.  Speed reading app is free this week.  Your weekly backup nudge.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between June 13th and June 20th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

Continuing the conversation about the blogosphere and social media.

Image: Ali T via Flickr

Do you remember Friendster?  It seems to have morphed into a gaming site, but a long time ago, it was Facebook for everyone who couldn’t get onto Facebook because they were too old.

Sites — like restaurants or stores — open and close all the time.  If they’re part of our daily world, it makes us sad because it signals change.  Though if we rarely frequented the site or restaurant or store, it doesn’t really factor beyond a sigh.

But it should.  At least, it should when it comes to social media sites where we have an account.

When a restaurant closes, it may sell off its tables and ovens and cookware.  When a store closes, it may sell off its merchandise.  And when an online site closes, well, if it’s in their terms of service, they can technically sell off… you.  Your data.  Your IP or intellectual property, which are your words and images.

Let’s take the case of Facebook, a solid giant who is going nowhere soon.  Maybe.  I mean, we have no clue if they’re going nowhere soon.  They could announce tomorrow that the site is underwater, and they’re going to bail.

What you upload right now to Facebook exists under the rules of the existing site, which are also subject to change at any time.  Even if they don’t change, you have given Facebook (and a lot of other sites have this caveat too) a transferable license to your “IP” or intellectual property.

By using or accessing Facebook, you agree to this Statement, as updated from time to time in accordance with Section 14 below.

…

1. For content that is covered by intellectual property rights, like photos and videos (IP content), you specifically give us the following permission, subject to your privacy and application settings: you grant us a non-exclusive, transferable, sub-licensable, royalty-free, worldwide license to use any IP content that you post on or in connection with Facebook (IP License). This IP License ends when you delete your IP content or your account unless your content has been shared with others, and they have not deleted it.
2. When you delete IP content, it is deleted in a manner similar to emptying the recycle bin on a computer. However, you understand that removed content may persist in backup copies for a reasonable period of time (but will not be available to others).

To put that in simple English: we can use now or in the future anything you upload to Facebook.  If you delete it, it’s not really gone.  And in case you were wondering, Facebook will not officially give a range to a “reasonable period of time” when asked.  Which most likely means, “indefinitely.”

The part that gives me pause is the concept of transferability.  Because while Facebook may afford me certain privacy settings, what if Facebook enters a time period when they are trying to make their company solvent after financial collapse and they sell off their archive?  That is what happens with restaurants and stores — they sell off their merchandise.  And in this case, our data and our IP is what would be for sale.  Our data is what makes Facebook valuable in the first place.  What if the new site doesn’t believe in privacy settings, and everything I wrote over the years and every image I uploaded is suddenly made available to the public?  And what if this new company removes the delete button.  What then?

Is this far-fetched.  Yes.  But does it inform the way I use the site: absolutely.  The only site I trust is my blog, and that is because I own it.  I know it’s public.  And I take comfort in knowing that boundary definitively.  Whereas I don’t really know the boundaries with Facebook.  They could be here, they could be there… and it’s the not knowing that makes me uncomfortable.

There are those who say that our data or IP shouldn’t be the tradeoff for using a site like Facebook, but here’s the thing.  We’re not owed a Facebook.  We’re not owed a free Facebook where they host us and pay for our space on their servers and get nothing in return.  Restaurants don’t give us food out of the goodness of their hearts and stores don’t hand us jeans just because they like the cut of our jib.  They charge us.  And in the case of Facebook, the free site isn’t really free even if they never ask for money.  They ask you to pay in your data and IP.  You pay by giving up your privacy.

Do you ever consider the impermanence of sites?  Would you be comfortable right now with everything you’ve uploaded to Facebook if they sell their archives in the future and everything behind privacy settings suddenly becomes public?