Thursday, April 16, 2009
Blogger maneuverability
Am not happy with the utility of this site, compared to wordpress. Can't see how to delete old posts, have to stumble around to find the dashboard, and then don't find the tabs on the dashboard all that helpful. Interested in running ads and making money though---under monetize--though likely to be a year of lots of ads to make a couple of pennies.
New Discoveries and Resultant Musings
Having now explored the online productivity sites, the image generator sites, and the wiki sites, am still trying to settle upon one tool to best use for student web 2.0 engagement to take my classes out of the slow text based land schools still hold on to. Told Darren that he and Mary seem to be the only faculty with actual employment skills for the present and the future, so I am trying to learn a small amount of this new world knowledge.
Philosophically, though, and psychologically, all of this techno toy technique seems like a vast black hole of time eating---not that I would do anything of better meaning if not online playing in the cyber sandbox to borrrow Darren's metaphor. Still, there is some sense of futuristic robot lonely substitute living, as if I were in outer space, sole space survivor, sending out semaphore signals of isolation and fiddling.
When one is young, one thinks that time is plentiful. Older, one wastes time true, but not without a sense of guilty squandering.
Remember the old chestnut about "If you got to do it all over again, would you. . .spend more time at work. . .worry so much about trivial stuff, " etc. etc? Well, 50 years in the future will the current generation be lamenting all the time spent staring at a computer screen and playing on the internet?
Philosophically, though, and psychologically, all of this techno toy technique seems like a vast black hole of time eating---not that I would do anything of better meaning if not online playing in the cyber sandbox to borrrow Darren's metaphor. Still, there is some sense of futuristic robot lonely substitute living, as if I were in outer space, sole space survivor, sending out semaphore signals of isolation and fiddling.
When one is young, one thinks that time is plentiful. Older, one wastes time true, but not without a sense of guilty squandering.
Remember the old chestnut about "If you got to do it all over again, would you. . .spend more time at work. . .worry so much about trivial stuff, " etc. etc? Well, 50 years in the future will the current generation be lamenting all the time spent staring at a computer screen and playing on the internet?