Blogging vs. Vlogging (and if you like to dance you might try clogging)

If the blogging era’s subtext was “Listen to me!” then the vlogging era’s is “Look at me when I’m speaking to you!”

Hey. Did I say this is a bad thing?

Lately, I’ve been playing with the idea of starting a vlog on my YouTube channel and finally giving up the ghost that this or any blog will never see the glory days ever again. Who comes here, really? I get a few hits from my update posts in Facebook, but the largest percentage come in from people harvesting images and who have no intention to stop and read what I spend so much time writing. No one checks in to say hi anymore. No, I’m afraid the short-lived phenomenon that was blogging is behind us, friends.

I was really excited when blogging came around, because people were actually reading—and writing!—again. Writing is my thing so blogging not only gave me an instant platform, it also honed my writing skills. Just the act of writing that entry every night taught me a lot of discipline. It also helped me find my writer’s voice. Mostly though, I felt there was hope for some degree of literacy in this country, but then vlogging showed up.

I’m not saying vloggers aren’t literate, because some of those I follow are as intelligent as hell. But it’s much easier to watch a video than it is to read a blog. Sure, it’s passive, but let’s face it, it’s fun and it demands nothing except to, well, sit there, but while vlogs are easier for the viewer, they’re much harder for the one who’s actually making them.

Like blogging, you have to decide on a topic, research it and write about it. There’s the set design, equipment, props that might be needed, camera angles, and then there’s the vlogger’s physical appearance. Let’s face it, one of the boons of blogging is that you could do it in your pajamas, underwear, naked even. With vlogging you have to decide what to wear and then look presentable. For a woman there’s hair and makeup, if that’s her thing. There’s the attitude. “Hi!” “Good Morning!” even if that’s not how you actually feel. Then there’s the recording with numerous takes, graphic and audio inserts, and last but not least, all the editing. All of this requires skills in equipment and content construction, not to mention on-camera skills. And that requires confidence and some degree of acting talent. Finally, there’s marketing and promo, and then growing a thick skin.

Good vloggers need to be commended, but more times than not they’re given negative comments from trolls whose sole intent is to leave their mental feces in a crap trail as they hop from video to video. Some vloggers confront these cowards with witty comeback videos in which they read the comments aloud and make snarky remarks. Others filter out the negative comments by setting them to be approved before releasing them. These tactics aren’t new. We bloggers learned to handle our trolls in exactly the same ways. I think I now have about 75% of the thick skin I’d need were I to start vlogging.

All of this is a whole lot more work than writing a blog over one’s morning coffee or, in my case, late at night before going to bed. Sure, there’s editing the text and collecting images, but that doesn’t take as much preparation before hitting the “Publish” button.

When I look back I realize I started vlogging back in 1986 when I first got my hands on a video camera. You know, the kind that required you carry that huge battery pack around? One night I made myself a Banquet Hungry Man TV chicken dinner, turned on the camera and proceeded to talk to my friends, who I knew would enjoy such silliness. I thought of making more, of making it a regular thing, but the camera was only borrowed and I had to give it back the next day. But I was younger, more energetic, and better looking back then. I had more confidence. Hey, I’ve been through some crap since then.

I’ve always been a ham when cameras are around, but that’s cooled way down. Now I avoid them like the plague. Can I get over that enough to actually sit and talk into a camera for 10 minutes? This also brings up the fact that I have a slight speech impediment. It’s nothing you notice in normal conversation, but on camera it might be more noticeable. Should I even care? Should I just put myself out there, stammering, sagging, and saying stupid shit about…what? I haven’t even come up with an idea about what my vlog content would be. You can’t just get up there without a plan.

I may make a couple of scratch videos that I can study and learn from and then delete. This will most likely mean several weeks—maybe even months—of practice and developing. But do I have time for that? In a lot of ways, keeping a vlog for just two weeks is like making an album. If one video takes as much work as one song does, I could have my album—even if I farted around a bit—completed in less than a month. In the time it would take for me to work myself up to vlogging and then actually do it, I could make two albums!

My conclusion then is that I’d better finish this damned album before I start thinking about a vlog.

In the meantime, here are some great ones that I follow (images contain links):

ANSWERS WITH JOE
Vlogger’s Name: Joe Scott
Content: “Get interesting, amazing, funny, mind-shifting, eye-opening, informative answers. Every Monday.”
My Comments: Joe covers a lot of quantum science, but he sometimes delves into politics, religion, philosophy, and his everyday life in Texas, from house training his Pug to making the (im)perfect Old Fashioned. Because of his background in film making, acting and comedy, his videos are always entertaining, candid, and, if intended to be, funny.
Suggested Video: How to Meet George Lucas (Almost)

WINE MOM
Vlogger’s Name: Hannah Williams
Content: “Wine enthusiast who has become famous for her work with BuzzFeed. She is known for dishing out parenting advice over a glass of wine in BuzzFeed’s “Wine Mom” series of YouTube videos.”
My Comments: Don’t let the blurb fool you. Hannah is flat-out funny, and over more subjects than just parenting. My suggestion is to skip the BuzzFeed page (linked above) and just look her up on YouTube.
Suggested Video: The Worst People to Drink Wine With

GUITAR GURU (Lynch Lynks)
Vlogger’s Name: Jay Parmar
Content: “Jay Parmar is a professional Guitarist/Songwriter/Producer/Guitar builder. His music is immersed in feel, emotion and depth and his guitar playing is infused with eastern influence which he utilised to create tangible sonic soundscapes that are emotive and thought provoking.”
My Comments: Jay is Britain’s best kept secret, but he’s getting out there with his tutorials as well as his videos on inspiration and where creativity comes from. His love of life, his gentleness, and his humor are infectious. Oh, and did I say? This man can really, really play!
Suggested Video: Inspiration – Picture of Success, Flow, Karma, and Books

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This & That

This:

Around Bookends Cottage 2017 has started out with naught but a yawn. Not a yawn of boredom, mind you, but a yawn of exhaustion. I keep looking over at the Christmas tree, the lights off and the gifts all gone, and I know I have to take it down, but I just can’t seem to find the energy to do it. It’s always such a joy to put up every year, the entire family gets into the act, friends come over, food is nibbled and drinks are drunk, but where is everybody when it’s time to take it all down and put it away? I always end up doing it alone, which is why I didn’t want to go all out this year, with decorations in every room of the house. It’s too much for me to take apart when I’m worn out from the holiday season. We have about a gazillion tree ornaments and all those new strands of lights we had to add and that need to be pulled off. And then there’s all of the outdoor lights, wreaths, ladder-climbing and et cetera. Oof. I’m tired just thinking about it…

That:

I’ve been trying to get back into my project of finishing Book Two (With A Bullet) and sending it off to print. In reality, this should take me only about two weeks, but all of my creative motivation has disappeared. Music, too is on my list, but that’s really pushing it. At my age, singing is an athletic event and I have to be in peak condition to do it well enough for a recording. And then there’s the setting up and tearing down…

This:

I’m well aware of the fact that it’s going to take the entire month of January to get back to where I was, engery-wise, last October. Damn you, Hashimoto’s, you soul-sucking bastard. One of the things I can do now that I’m on Medicare is make an appointment with an endocrinologist, but going to a new doctor is always difficult for me. Because we live in a cherry red state, and because the only endo in this town who takes Medicare is a born-again who touts her religious beliefs on her website, and because I’m married to a woman, I’m more than a little hesitant to go see her. I’m absolutely worn out from dodging the bigotry bullets in the Bible Belt. Oklahoma is just southern enough that these doctors are sugary sweet to your face, calling you darlin’ and hon, and saying “Well, blay-ess yer hart” with a big smile on their face while unsuccessfully hiding the aversion they feel toward you. Sure, I get the same medical attention as anyone else, but navigating all that crap is psychologically and psychically harder than I can describe. I’ve lived in this state for nearly 20 years. You’d think I’d be used to the way their eyes glaze over when I have to explain that my spouse isn’t a man. And it happens in all situations here, from introductions at social events to buying an anniversary present from a helpful shop clerk. And since the election the socio-political ice has gotten a bit thinner around here anyway. I’m not sure if I want to get out and try to walk on it just yet. Not with the 20th looming on the near horizon…

That:

On a completely different subject, I came into 2017 wanting to give this blog a new look, but after spending an entire night looking for a new theme, I gave that up. WordPress has a gazillion themes to choose from, but only a handful of those are designed for actual blogging. Most of them are for businesses, services and products, and photography. And even those they say are for blogging are dominated by featured slides, huge pictures of emo girls sitting or standing forlornly with pigeon toed feet, extreme closeups of glamour dolls or of twenty-something hipster dudes looking for all the world like they love their commute to their cubicle every morning. And there’s no place to write any actual content anymore. I suppose the blogging craze is over and I should really just give it up, but after 17 years that’s not easy to do. Hell, I don’t even know if anyone even reads these entries. Maybe I’m just wasting the two or three hours it takes me to put one together and post it. But that’s another whole issue…

This:

Nettl returned from her New Year’s New York City excursion bearing some amazing gifts. One was a large tin of authentic Hungarian paprika that she bought at a shop in Grand Central Terminal. To celebrate this delectable spice I made a pot of Viennese Goulasch last night, and I’ve made a pledge never to buy the domestic crap ever again. There’s just no comparison. It’s kind of like refusing to use margarine after tasting sweet cream, unsalted butter. I don’t care if it costs more. If I can’t afford it, I simply won’t make anything that requires it…

That:

Back to Book Two. One of the reasons I never seem to finish this book is that things keep coming up that need to be added to the story. Sitting on it for so long as brought up a lot of things that need to be addressed where my characters are concerned. Katy is only now beginning to flesh herself out so that I can understand what truly motivates her. I don’t know how I have avoided her inner workings for so long, but she’s coming along and I enjoy writing about her now. This is really important, too, because it leads me into Book Three more seamlessly and effortlessly. Being these people’s creator, shrink, and biographer isn’t easy, but it eventually is fun…

And with that (pun intended) I shall leave you until the next time. This Christmas tree has been giving me the stink eye for three days and I really need to quite literally put it in its place.

Have a wonderful week!

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A Little Bluer, If You Please

synesthesia

Every now and again I think I might take up walking as a means to find interesting things to photograph for this blog. One of my all-time favorite blogs is The Smitten Image, where the author and photographer shares her visual and emotional perceptions of the world in which she lives. Each post, besides being beautiful, draws her readers into her sensual experience and each post has a different theme. These aren’t just snapshots, folks. Her posts are carefully and painstakingly put together, often using photos she takes at different times and during different walks. And every time she posts a new entry I come away feeling inspired to capture my world in a similar manner.

The problem is, I’m not really a visual person and there is no camera out there (that I know of) that can visualize what I hear when I go for a walk. I experience life aurally and, although I’m a synesthete (or maybe because I am), it’s the aural that stimulates the visual. Simply put, I hear first, which then triggers the visual. Hearing the world around me comes naturally and automatically; I do absolutely nothing to make this happen, and trying to be a visual person is like trying to make myself left-handed. It makes my brain hurt. For me, middle C is a glowing yellow ball, E is a red lightening streak, G is a green leaf-like shape, and A is a boisterous, wash of blue sky. And all of these have soft edges, like watercolors, which is why images like this one are so appealing to me. I’d love to have this framed and on my wall. It brings me a sense of balance and peace, because it settles all the noise in my head into perfect harmony and resolution.

palette
I hear music when I look at this.

This is called synethesia, which means my senses cross paths in my brain. There are five known types of synesthesia. You can take a test here if you suspect you might also be a synesthete.

So, until something happens to either my brain, or my ability to shut this off (which I’d never want to do!) you probably won’t see many posts from me that are strictly of photographs. I suggest you visit The Smitten Image for some truly beautiful and insightful photos.

__________

About the Title of This Entry:
When Liszt first began as Kapellmeister in Weimar (1842), it astonished the orchestra that he said, “O please, gentlemen, a little bluer, if you please! This tone type requires it!” Or “That is a deep violet, please, depend on it! Not so rose!” First the orchestra believed Liszt just joked; later they got accustomed to the fact that the great musician seemed to see colors where there were only tones.

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Stick a Fork in Me, I’m Done.

free

Before Facebook, I composed symphonies and operas. I carried on a large correspondence via the post, I gardened, I decorated, I kept extensive journals, I went places, people came to my house, and I didn’t feel the compulsion to show people what I was eating. I wasn’t too concerned with people’s grammar because we SPOKE, which made me less judgmental; I didn’t give a shit about how other people (mis)used apostrophes. Overall, I was a happier person, less judgmental, and my friendships were based on the time we spent together rather than on agreeing with each other. Friends didn’t attack me and I didn’t write people off. And you know what? My life was happier.

This Facebook thing, with its scientifically proven dopamine addiction, has run its course where I’m concerned. I’m getting out while I still have a brain. Orwell was right. There is a Big Brother, and its name is Facebook. Fuck that. You can reach me here on my blog, or via my email or phone. I’m going back to life before Mark Zuckerberg. Seriously, do you want this snot nose sucking your limited time on this planet? Think about it. We’ll all be dead in a few years, you and I, and I choose not to waste my precious time in Facebook. Kind of like the time one chooses to spend with a difficult ex. Life’s too short. Sod it.

Oh, people won’t like it, and they’ll raise all sorts of objections. You need proof? Tell you friends you’re leaving Facebook and they’ll become nearly rabid. How will you keep in touch with everyone? (I have a phone and an email). How will we invite you to parties? (I have a phone and an email).  You don’t really have a clue about how insidious the Facebook fast-food addiction is until you say you’re going to leave. Alcoholics have nothing on this! I don’t give a shit anymore. I’m no longer under the spell. I’m going back to blogging as my main inline communication. And Instagram. People don’t bicker and bully in there, at least not the people I follow. If you want to connect there, I’d be very happy to welcome you!

I must add that I’ll still check in over my morning coffee and at night before going to bed. I’ll also post links to these blog posts there; I won’t be completely divorced from it. Just no more of the throughout-the-day rubbish.

__________

Update: Yes, I was angry when I posted this last night. No, I’m not sorry and, no, I haven’t changed my mind.

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