wordsmith.social/jonbeckett

Before going on something of a blogging sabbatical for a few days – an attempt to break the “must post every day” idiocy – I thought it might be a good idea to re-iterate; yes, I'm posting the blog at more than one place, and no, I'm not leaving anywhere (yet).

I've often posted to more than one place in the past. Back in the day, blogs only existed at other places. That probably makes no sense to anybody that started blogging in the last decade, so I should perhaps elaborate. Back when blogging first started, there were no platforms. Nobody could publish your blog for you. The only option was to create your own website, and go hunting around the web to find other people that had done something similar. The earliest iterations of Yahoo, Altavista, Lycos, and the various other search engines helped you find other bloggers, because they curated the web – the early search engines were not entirely machine generated.

I can still remember visiting a computer store years ago and seeing a yellow-pages of the internet – a printed directory of websites worth visiting.

Anyway.

Back in the day – before the big blogging platforms such as Wordpress, Blogger and Tumblr arrived, the only way to post to blogs was to create pages, and the only way to follow blogs was to visit them. To help you do that, people would commonly have both a “Blogroll” page – listing blogs they liked, and a “Guestbook” page – inviting others to post a “hi, I visited!” message. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. In the early days the world wide web was a very much more belt-and-braces affair, where people invented it as they went along – a bit like Minecraft I suppose.

Over time, various programmed solutions came about to make blogging easier; where you could write a post and pubish it, and the website built itself (versus you creating a new page for every post). The programmed solutions brought comments, and a wonderful idea called RSS (really simple syndication). RSS allowed you to run a piece of software called an “RSS aggregator”, that would visit the blogs you liked one after another, and pull all of their posts together into one long stream. These days the most iteration of that idea is called Feedly, and lives online too.

After a while, rather than helping people build their own self-contained blogs, first Blogger, and then LiveJournal, Vox, Yahoo 360, TypePad, MySpace, Wordpress and numerous others took it upon themselves to do the back-end wizardry for you, and let you get on with the writing part – you didn't need to look after anything. And that's where it all starts to get a bit sketchy. Each and every “platform” that offered to help became incompatible with each and every other platform. Each platform offered features that only worked on that platform – and so the walled gardens I've written about in the past came about. People fell into communities within each “world” , and stopped crossing paths with one another – mostly because it was inconvenient.

For a modern example, try adding a Blogger RSS feed to Wordpress reader. You can see the posts, but you can't comment unless you visit the blog.

So (he says, after a very long and twisting story), maybe my attempts to keep Wordpress and Tumblr at arms length are because I remember how blogs were once upon a time – that there were no walls – that with a little effort, everybody could find everybody else if they looked. And that's why I'm trying out substack. I'm putting my writing “somewhere else” – outside of the walled gardens. Somewhere people can visit if they choose to that doesn't require an account to write a comment, or to like a post (substack has no comments or likes).

There's another thought about having no comments on a blog – you can express your thoughts without fear of reprisals from keyboard warriors. Your words remain your own, without being tainted by another. The other person can of course publish their own words on a subject, but they cannot hijack your “place”, if that makes sense – to reach eyeballs (if that's what they want to do) they will have to do it themselves. It's a better kind of world in my opinion. You might wonder how friends might express support or cameraderie if there are no comments – that's why you list an email address on your about page.

Anyway. Last “anyway”, honest...

It's lunchtime, and I've probably written far too much. I'll leave it there for the moment.

I've just sat down after spending the last hour trimming the hedge at the front of our house. Of course I write “trimming”, but the real scenes were probably more closely aligned with the jungle hacking antics of the Livingston expedition in the jungle a hundred or so years ago.

We have an electric hedge trimmer. Rather a long electric hedge trimmer. Now I'm sure if you're Conan the Barbarian you can wield it like a mighty broadsword, vanquishing the hedge as you go. If you're a software developer who last did an arm workout twenty five years ago – not so much. My forearms are pumped full of blood at the moment – so much so that I'm finding it quite difficult to type. Who could have guessed that this finely tuned software developer physique would have trouble cutting a few yards of hedgerow?

I'm sure I'll recover.

The up-side of cutting the hedge is that I can now see people approaching the house. The downside of cutting the hedge is that people can now see me watching them approach the house. No more peeping in plain sight for me. Maybe I need some net curtains, so I can appear as a shadowy figure behind them, and scare small children in the neighbourhood. I suppose that only works until I need to trudge towards the corner shop for milk, coffee, or whatever else. “Oh, that's that man that lives there.”

Please, don't let anybody that lives nearby know that I know my way around computers. I've been “that guy” before. It's a thankless task – trying to explain to the third person this week that Windows 10 is designed to work with a Microsoft account – and no, they don't track you – and no, they don't read your email, and no, the right wing news outlet you listen to isn't right, and no, you can't inject bleach, and no, no, no... It gets tiring after a while.

I just tell everybody to buy Chromebooks these days.

In other news, the new power supply for the stricken PC across the room arrives later this afternoon. With a little luck I'll put it back together, switch it on, and all will be well with the world once again. If not, well... that will be the end of that. I have a horrible feeling it really will be the end of that, but we'll wait and see. Isn't it funny that as you get older, you become every-so-much more cycnical about just about everything involving luck.

p.s. I have been bowled over by the number of people that have signed up to receive the blog posts by email. Who knew the blogosphere was so disenfranchised with the status quo? If you would also like to divorce yourself of endless comments, likes, and so on, visit https://jonathanwrotethis.substack.com and subscribe. If you try it out too, let me know – I'l sign up to your writing too :)

The big computer hidden under the desk emitted a strange electrical noise yesterday morning, before switching off and filling the room with an acrid smell of burning. I pulled the plug out immediately. At the moment I have no idea what happened to it – but guessed at the power supply unit. A new one is on order, and should arrive tomorrow morning. It remains to be seen if the sound I heard was just the power supply, or the entire computer ending it's own life. If any sort of surge hit the motherboard or CPU, it's going to be “goodbye computer”.

I'm writing this blog post though, so you would be correct in thinking “he found a way”. I resurrected an old laptop, installed it with a shiny copy of Ubuntu Linux, and wired it up to the monitor, mouse, and keyboard on the desk in the junk room. A working computer. Yes, it's slow, and yes, it's a bit clunky – but it works. If the other computer really is dead, this will be the only computer around for months – if not years. There's no way we can afford to replace it (it was handed down in the first place – my Dad gave it us when he upgraded).

It's funny really – that I work in IT, but don't have any sort of cutting edge hardware at home. I guess I have three daughters instead – and there's not much left in the pot after providing for them each month. I sometimes think back to our life before children with a smile, and wish I had appreciated how much disposable income we once had.

There's something about publishing blog posts on mainstream platforms that I've never liked. It never used to exist, and has only come about because platforms happened. It's the unwritten expectation that if somebody shows interest in your writing, you should show interest in theirs too.

Don't get me wrong – many people don't really mind if you read or not (I think I fall into this camp) – they are writing more to empty their head, and because they enjoy writing – they are not writing to attract an audience, or to build a social network. As in all things I suppose there is a minority that expect reciprocation for any interest they show. I'm not saying it's wrong – it's just a different way of seeing the world – a more transactional view.

I don't like it.

It's easy to blame the likes of Wordpress, Tumblr, Blogger and so on for building in functionality where accounts are required – it makes the engineering a lot easier. However it also causes lock-in, silos of information, and invisible walls between people, and their stories. Once you've built a walled garden around your users, you can of course start building “social” features – which I might argue aren't social at all. I've written before about how the social internet isn't really social – I'm not going there again today.

Here's an excerpt:

Each major platform is not social in it's own way. Tumblr, once a mighty bastion of creativity and free thinking, has become a ghost town. Instagram has been flooded with inspirational clothes-try-on hauliers. Facebook's algorithmic timeline has transformed it into a political hellscape where factions of families fall out with one another, never to speak again. Twitter has become festooned with soap-box keyboard warriors — investing just enough effort to type a few hundred characters, but not willing to do anything more towards the causes they broadcast, promote, or cancel.

Surviving the Social Internet

Anyway.

I suppose this post is a very roundabout way of announcing that I've started cross-posting into Substack once more. A number of friends had asked if I might – because they don't like the big publishing platforms – they don't want accounts – can they not just get an email when I write? I found myself reluctantly agreeing with them. It takes very little effort from me, and serves as a back-channel of sorts – a place you can find and subscribe to writing without having to set foot in the quagmire that the big publishing platforms often become.

The second blog lives at jonathanwrotethis.substack.com – you can subscribe by email for free, it's emails are arguably nicer than those that Wordpress churn out, and it requires no membership. If you've not seen substack, it's worth a look.

I'll climb back off my soapbox now, go make a coffee, and put my feet up for a bit. I ran this morning.

I've been staring at Evernote for the last several minutes, wondering how to begin this post.

If you're wondering why I write in Evernote, I should probably do a quick walk through the insanity of where/how I write.

For years I wrote in text editors – in markdown format – and saved the text files in a neat tidy year and month folders on my computer, backed up to the internet. Then a couple of years ago I started using Evernote to write – mostly because it was convenient, and free. For a little while I tried out Notion too – because it was shiny, clever, and new. I decided pretty quickly that it was also a gigantic rabbit hole that surrounded me with far too many distractions. For the last year I tried Google Docs – again, because it was conventient, and free, but there was something I didn't like about it that slowly pulled at me like the loose thread – the pages. When I write, I don't want to see pages – I just want to see my stream of writing stretching off down the screen. I know it's ridiculous. Anyway – I've been back with Evernote ever since.

You're probably wondering why I don't just write into Wordpress, or wherever my blog is. Do you even know how many places my blog has lived? Actually – that's not the reason I write elsewhere. I just don't like writing in blogging platform interfaces. I would rather write somewhere that's designed to handle writing, and then copy the words into wherever. It takes seconds.

Anyway. I'm still staring a Evernote, and now I've written however many hundred words about nothing at all. Well, nothing about my day.

I went shopping earlier. Shopping for a surprise for my eldest daughter to cheer her up a bit. She's been struggling a fair bit recently, so I thought it might work as a kick-start of sorts. I came home with chocolate, an “anxiety busting” colouring book, some nice coloured pens, and a book by Matt Haig about his journey with depression. She had her nose in it over dinner, and has vanished off with it this evening. I bought pizzas from the supermarket for dinner.

I've read several of Matt Haig's books. If you've not read any of them, do check them out. They're all available from Amazon, Kobo, and of course brick-and-mortar bookshops. I will admit to becoming a bit of a fan during the pandemic. I think the most popular of his books you might have heard about is “The Midnight Library” – where people are invited to take a different path at an earlier point in their lives to see what happens.

Anyway. It's getting late. I think perhaps it's time for a hot chocolate, then read a book in bed for a bit (you know, and fall asleep with the book propped on my chest, as per usual). I'm still reading “Sapiens”, by Yuval Noah Harari – it's about how we came to be here – our story on the planet. It's a pretty huge book, but the story is told wonderfully and is full of intresting side stories. Did you know there were originally several different subspecies of “Homo Sapiens” – and that they have slowly merged into one? They've figured this out through DNA in recent years, and through analysis of various burial sites. I'm not talking about the neanderthals, or anything like that – they were an entirely different species. They did overlap with the homosapiens though, and there is evidence of their cross-breeding. I find it all fascinating.

I find most things fascinating. I suppose that's why I regularly end up noodling around on the internet in the early hours – reading random articles and papers about all sorts of things. Last week I watched an hour long math lecture about integration. I have no idea why.

It's been a week since I last posted. After years writing almost every day, it seems strange – standing at the edge of the blog – rummaging around in my mental bag, looking for some words to contribute. It almost feels like the blog has become this place or person that I've had an awkward falling out with, and now I'm not quite sure how to start a conversation.

Perhaps ignoring the atmosphere is the best solution. Ignore the blog while it stares at me tiptoeing around the edge of the room, with “where the f*ck have you been?” written all over its face.

Where have I been?

I was furloughed through the first half of this week. If you're not entirely sure what that means, it's pretty straightforward – if you are furloughed, the company you work for forces you to take unpaid leave. Happily, the UK government is paying a large proportion of my salary during the days I am furloughed – a safety net of sorts that has been operating throughout the pandemic. There are strict rules while you are “furloughed” – you cannot work on any paid project work for your employer – but you can undertake “professional development” – training courses, and so on.

Instead of spending the furlough days this week hitting the textbooks, I replaced the roof on our shed. Go me. I thought I might also write some more thoughtful words over at Medium, but that didn't happen. I'm not sure why. I didn't go running either – I'm still waiting for my knee to heal properly. It's been a dispiriting kind of week really.

Anyway. It's Friday, it's raining, I'm drinking my second coffee of the day, and some cafe jazz playlist is quietly burbling away in the background. I should probably get on with some work.

I'm struggling to remember the last time this blog saw my absence for as many consecutive days. I would love to say “I've been busy having all manner of adventures in order to regale you with them”, but that wouldn't be true at all. For the last week I've been existing. Getting up. Working. Making meals. Washing clothes. Doing chores. It's difficult to make daily life sound exciting when so many have been enduring a similar existence for the last year and a half.

I haven't been running since last Monday – a mystery pain appeared in my right knee just before the morning run – I probably shouldn't have run on it, but I did. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I've been paying for it ever since. I'm hoping I'll be ok to run again next week – just taking it slowly. It's frustrating, after just getting back into the “Couch to 5K” programme.

I'm wondering about getting out on the bike to strengthen my knees. For the last twenty years I have cycled to work – but since the pandemic hit, the office closed, I've worked from home, and I have got on the bike only a handful of times. I have no idea how much muscle mass I've lost.

In other news, I've joined a damn fool weight loss challenge with my middle daughter. Granted, I'm a little overweight – let's call it “padding” – but not a lot. She has more to lose so will (hopefully) lose more than me, allowing her to crow endlessly about it – which will of course be a good thing. I've set her the goal of losing a number of pounds, and getting fit before the end of the summer. I've also said I'll do exercises with her in the week (bang goes my lunchtime noodling around on the internet). I imagine we'll be dancing around in the garden doing jumping jacks or whatever the hell else she wants to attempt to kill me with.

Before you jump down my throat about encouraging my daughter to lose weight or get fit, and cancel me for being a toxic lunatic – there is a motive. She is in the middle of a two year college course, and on a path to a career in the uniformed services (police, etc). She has knocked it out of the park during the first year – earning distinctions through the academic part of the course. Next year the focus will change to the physical – so turning up in great shape will give her a HUGE head start. It will also of course help her with playing and refereeing rugby matches (yes, she does both).

In other news, I've been painting a shed. Or rather, a Wendy House. I'm not sure if “Wendy House” is an international term. In the UK, if you have a play house in your garden (a small shed), it is called a “Wendy House”, after the house made by the lost boys for Wendy to live in, in the book of Peter Pan by J M Barrie. We have a Wendy House that was given to us when the children were young – that became a “Pirate Hideout” for several years, before eventually becoming a garden store. Anyway. I started painting it today. Grey. A flat colour to make it fall into the background of the garden.

We've also been digging a pond in the garden. Before children we had a wildlife pond at the end of the garden with numerous fish, frogs, dragonflies, and whatever else living in it – it had to go when the children were small for obvious reasons. They're grown up now – and digging a massive hold in the garden doesn't cost very much – so it's back. At the moment the only things in it are some worms that fell in, and a few pond skaters that have discovered it. Over the coming weeks – as we can afford it, or as people donate plants to us – we are planting the area around the pond. Once it's established we'll fill it with fish, and then setup the machine gun posts to shoot Herons on-sight.

Anyway.

It's getting late. I'm going to go eat cereals, and watch rubbish television for a bit. My other half is curled up on sofa – she had her second Covid shot yesterday – the side effects have arrived today. Not as bad as the first time, but still making her feel a bit rubbish.

P.s. I'm furloughed Monday through Wednesday for the next few weeks. Expect blog posts.

I began blogging before the word had become part of the common vernacular. In the early days, people wrote about their day – their life. Online journals formed the basis of LiveJournal, DiaryLand, and Blogger. Any thoughts of blogs covering niche subjects such as cooking, parenting, fashion, or beauty products were years away.

While I count myself among that “first wave” – that shared mundane moments of their daily life with the passing crowd, I can't help feeling that it's almost become a game of last-man-standing. The social networks and walled gardens have seduced the majority. Perhaps that's the real driver behind the creation of this blog – an outpost of sorts, standing almost alone in the internet ocean. Me, railing at Windmills (how many more badly distorted literary references can I conjure?).

Writing online has become the Emperor's New Clothes (and there's another one). Everyone has been brainwashed to believe that writing online should be short, snappy, direct, regular, and focused. Forgive me for saying it, but that's a sausage machine, and all they're good at is churning out the same crap – again, and again – predictably.

Who wants to be predictable? Who wants to be the same?

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this – but perhaps that's the point. I'm writing freestyle, with no aim, and no direction. What you're reading is almost a direct transcript of my thoughts as they left my brain, rolled through my fingers and appeared on the screen. The improvised stage play versus the edited movie.

I am reminded of “Finding Forrester”, where the reclusive author sits his student in front of a typewriter and instructs him to write. Not to think – just to write – write anything. It's a similar idea to National Novel Writing Month, where quantity is valued over quality. There will be a lot of garbage, there might also be brilliance.

Perhaps I do have a direction here.

Sometimes I write a few words, sometimes I write a few pages. Long, meandering streams of thought. By wrestling your way through them you get to know me a little better – or at least better than you might through a photo of a cat, a quote of a philosopher, or a transcribed conversation from a television show.

Here's to a future filled with words.

After working consistently through the the last 18 months, the company I work for are starting to take advantage of the “flexible furlough” opportunities to stand a few of us down while waiting for projects to start.

This week might see me furloughed for the first time. The “flexible furlough” rules allow for staff to continue with training while not working on commercial projects – which will be really good – there are several things I've been trying to find time to learn in recent months.

Of course, knowing the way the world works, the situation will change before the end of the day and any prospect of pursuing academic interests will go out of the window once more.

Being in limbo feels strange.

It's Friday evening, and the “week off” has vanished. I'm wondering where it went. The last few days are a mental jumble of running, working on the garden, doing chores, and jumping down internet rabbit holes.

In-between the usual mayhem, I have been slowly falling back into the clutches of Medium – writing essays, and publishing them into their partner programme. Choosing subjects that people might be interested in is something of a mystery to me at the moment – a little like throwing spaghetti at the wall to find out what sticks. I wrote a throw-away piece yesterday that gained immediate traction – then spent all morning today writing a well researched long-form piece, published it, and waited for several hours. Nothing. It's all a bit of a mystery.

I have to keep telling myself that Medium is very different than Wordpress. Where blogs are very much about the “here and now”, essays are more about ideas and thoughts – they float around for longer in the content delivery machine, and unexpectedly re-surface months after you've written them. An article I wrote in January suddenly earned over a hundred dollars last month. I'm guessing it caught the wave of a trending topic somewhere.

I guess the take-away is that I'm writing again. That's good, right? I suppose I'm not posting here though, and I'm not “present” on social media though.

Saying that, I finally started playing with “stories” on Instagram this week – the self destroying photos that only live for a little while. I was sitting in McDonalds with my youngest daughter (our first meal out together for 18 months!), waiting for her to finish. I didn't realise you can have the story photos appear both on your Instagram wall, and on Facebook as a “story”. It's all tremendously confusing.

Anyway. I should probably be writing something of consequence, rather than emptying my head here. I guess this keeps me sane though. I will be back soon, honest.