Kat’s Corner

Earlier today, I read a story over on TechCrunch where MG Siegler wondered why Jason Calacanis’ profile still showed up on Facebook. As you can see in the embedded video, Jason deleted his Facebook page back on May 22nd, 2010. He has publicly bashed Zuckerberg and company for their “shady privacy practices,” lack of ability to export content and not having an easy way to delete a profile completely.

Siegler reported earlier that more than the two weeks have gone by, and Jason’s page remained visible. When called on this, Calacanis appeared to be angry. In an email to Zuck, COO Sheryl Sandberg and TechCrunch, he blasted the company. Jason claimed that his page must have been reactivated by a third-party service or app. The site complied and immediately shut down his page, and the ordeal seemed to be finished.

Not quite.

TechCrunch just published a post with a headline that claims Jason is lying. After reading the original article today, Facebook engineer Mike Vernal left a comment stating in part: “In this situation, we’ve investigated and concluded that all of our policies were followed. We don’t get into specifics about individual users but in theory, the only way someone would be able to log back in to Facebook or another website with their Facebook information is if they had canceled their deletion request before the 14 day window expired.”

In a later email exchange with Facebook VP of Communications Elliot Schrage, Siegler learned that there is no way possible that the page stayed active for the reasons Calacanis listed. Either Jason – or someone acting on his behalf – told the site not to cancel his account. In the updated posted by MG on the TechCrunch site, he concludes:

Facebook is effectively saying that Calacanis is lying. They’re saying that there’s no way a third-party site could have kept his account active. And there’s no way he could have kept it active by logging into a third-party site (through Connect) without him explicitly canceling his deletion request first.

Sure sounds fishy to me. Perhaps Jason wanted to keep his Facebook account after all, but didn’t have the guts to say so after the public whining he’s done?

I suppose that this post could get me into some proverbial hot water. It’s a good thing, then, that I tend to enjoy showers that nearly scald the skin off of my back. I’ve never been afraid to speak my mind in the past. I’ve oft wondered lately why I keep yelling things at my Twitter client instead of writing them down. It’s time I stop hiding what is rattling around inside this rock attached to my shoulders. If I don’t win any friends, that’s okay with me. I’m not trying to kiss up to anyone. I just feel it is time that I speak out on a subject that gets me fired up nearly every single day.

Being a girl behind the scenes doing what I do is honestly probably more fun than it would be were I the one in the spotlight. It’s also a whole lot easier. I don’t have to constantly take flak and have bullshit flung at me every time I write or speak. I can research and write about technology and social media to my heart’s content and not have to worry about what everyone else thinks. That’s the beauty of being a ghost-writer. I can write the news and stories, publish them and know at the end of the day I did one hell of a good job.

Being a community manager for Chris Pirillo, I spend a lot of time keeping my eye on Twitter. Where else will I get scoops on all of the latest news and hot stories? There are also a lot of interesting tidbits to be found there, if one is inclined to pay attention. I’ve noticed lately that there seems to be an even larger amount of bashing of Michael Arrington than usual. Sure, he’s controversial. You bet your ass he tells it like it is. He pulls no punches. If he thinks something, he’s going to say it. Personally, that’s why I follow the man. I could care less that he’s the boss of TechCrunch. I don’t care if he’s worth a dollar – or a million of them. I find his honesty and willingness to speak his mind refreshing. I disagree with him often. Does that mean I should slam him publicly? Should I start ranting and calling him names every time I think differently than he does?

We seem to have forgotten that it’s a GOOD thing to disagree with someone. Listening to what others think is a great way to expand our own minds. It helps us to look at things with a different perspective than we might have otherwise. Why has this become so taboo? I see people pointing fingers and saying some damn nasty things every time Arrington dares to open his mouth. I admit that a few things he’s said have ticked me off. Instead of throwing a temper tantrum, though, I end up trying to find out WHY he thought the way he did. You just never know when you might learn something new.

Michael Arrington isn’t the devil. He’s just a guy who likes to tell the world what’s on his mind and doesn’t really give two shits if you agree or not.

Where do I even begin? This story and video disgust me so much that it has taken me two days to calm down and be able to compose my thoughts. As a mother of girls, I am repulsed by the style of dancing these young girls are doing – and by the clothes they are wearing. I honestly don’t care if that style of dance is what is “popular” these days (thanks a lot, Beyonce)… for an 8-year-old CHILD to dance this way is just plain wrong.

The daddy to one of the tots defended the dance on the Good Morning America show. He claimed the girls’ performance was “completely normal for dancing” and that the girls were just “doing something they completely love to do.” Two other parents spoke to Inside Edition, expressing their shock and outrage at the negative reactions around the Web. They claimed that the moves in the video are not “overly sexual.”

My oldest daughter, Ashley, is an amateur dancer. At age 15, she choreographed a dance to a then-popular song and performed it at the local fair talent show. Ashley was dressed in long “workout” type pants, a t-shirt and tennis shoes. She wasn’t dressed promiscuously, and she didn’t act that way, either. I watched as she worked up the routine for months ahead of time. I approved – or disproved – every move she made. To her credit, I only had to shake my head no for one single motion. She knew inherently what was considered to be appropriate for her age and the setting.

There is no way in hell a child of mine would dance like this… especially not at the age these little girls are. Let’s not even discuss what type of heaven the pedophiles of the World are in right now. I shudder to even think those thoughts. I’m far more concerned that the parents of these kids felt this is okay. Did they seriously not watch the performance with their eyes open? How can they not see their little darlings grinding their hips and thrusting them around in overly sexual simulations? What planet did they come from where it is acceptable for children to act this way?

“There’s something kind of disturbing about these images, otherwise they wouldn’t be all over the Internet,” said Jay Reeve, a clinical psychologist in Tallahassee, Fla. “It’s pretty clear that this dance is erotic in a way that would be more appropriate for girls post-puberty.”

Right on, Mr. Reeve! “Disturbing” is one of the mildest – and socially acceptable – words I can think of to describe this video.

Earlier tonight, my eldest daughter Ashley (she’s nearly 21) said something downright hilarious. After laughing for about five straight minutes, I decided to tweet what she had said in order to share it with my friends. I had no idea that tweet would end up on the front page of Twitter after having been re-tweeted hundreds of times. A few hours after I had posted, some random girl started yelling at me through the popular social media service, claiming I was “too old” to be on Twitter.

Wait. What? Young Lauren feels that my tweet is “indicative of everything that is wrong with Twitter.” She further claims that my timeline is “filled” with tweets about my children and grandchildren, and that I need to protect my tweets so the world isn’t subjected to them.

A quick perusal of my timeline will confirm to you that I don’t spend all of my time talking about my children. There are many sides to me… mom, nanna, tech writer, ghost blogger, community manager, Microsoft MVP, music junkie. Why, then, should there not be many sides to the “me” found on Twitter? Am I supposed to find out what exactly every person in the world wants to read and only tweet about it? Can you begin to imagine how boring that would be?

In contrast to what Ms. Montano thinks, I believe that tweets like mine show why Twitter WORKS. We don’t limit ourselves to only discussing “relevant things.” Who the hell is to say what is “relevant” to the world in general? It certainly isn’t me, and I highly doubt it’s my newest friend, either. Being a mom doesn’t define me. However, it IS a part of what makes me… ME!

Maybe Jason Calacanis should protect his tweets. Perhaps his 94,000+ followers should drop him. After all, he dared to talk about his child on Twitter! Oh, wait… maybe my friend Robert Scoble should make his timeline private! After all, he did tweet all through his wife’s labor and delivery to keep us updated.

Maybe my good buddy Mark Horvath should get off of Twitter and stop helping homeless people. After all, he’s older than I am! Kirstie Alley happens to be one of my idols. However, she, too, is older than I am. She dares to tweet about her family at times.

The thought that someone should not talk about their lives outside of what one person deems to be “relevant” is ludicrous. I wouldn’t want to live in a world where that happened. In fact, if Twitter started mandating that we cannot add something funny or personal to our accounts I will pack up my computer and cancel my Comcast.

When trying to come up with a title for this post, I couldn’t get beyond those two simple – yet horrifying – words. It’s a known fact of life: Cancer kills. It doesn’t discriminate against race, color, religion, gender or age. It simply goes in and kills whoever it feels like messing with that particular day. Today was no exception to that awful rule. Cancer killed beautiful little princess Layla Grace. When I read the news on Twitter earlier today, I broke down and sobbed for nearly ten minutes. I never met Layla, nor anyone related to her. However, her death – just as her too-short life before today – touched me very deeply.

I began following Layla’s story a few months ago. I cried when the treatments weren’t working. I laughed with joy when she would have a good day, and do something cute. I would coo over the adorable pictures of her. This was a little girl that I would never hug or kiss on the forehead, as I do with my granddaughters. But this angel was someone’s daughter… someone’s granddaughter. She was a human being, a toddler at that, who couldn’t possibly begin to understand what she was going through. I came to feel as though I did know her, and, by extension, her family.

Layla may not have been aware of what was happening to her, or why, but she sure did lead an amazing little life. She was a shining example of courage for so many of us. Without even trying, she managed to bring people closer together with her story. She showed many people the way back to their particular Faith, and strengthened our resolve even more to help find a way to fight this horrific disease.

Nothing I can write could possibly begin to tell you Layla’s story, nor how she touched so many thousands of people. I urge you to take the time to read through her parent’s journal, and get to know Layla the way I do. Even though she is now gone from Earth, playing with the angels, we can still learn from her and be touched by her journey. Isn’t it amazing how much someone can touch you life, even though you never meet in “real” life?

I was so caught up in reading about Layla today, playing with my precious granddaughter, working and just living life… I actually forgot the “anniversary” of my own brother’s death from Cancer. Jimmy has been gone exactly ten years now, and it still hurts at times.

I hate Cancer. I hate what it does to people. I try to do my part to help kick Cancer’s ass. Why, though, do I end up feeling as though it’s not enough? How many more precious babies – and other loved ones – do we have to lose before we kick its ass into oblivion for good?

I’ve been in Seattle for nearly a week now, due to attending the Microsoft MVP Summit. I’ll be writing more on that later. I’m very tired from all of the activities, but I was moved to tears tonight by an experience I had, and wanted to get my thoughts down in writing while they’re fresh.

My boss, Chris Pirillo, picked me up yesterday morning when the conference ended. I am spending the weekend with him, just hanging out and having fun. Usually when I’m here, we’re batshit crazy busy with Gnomedex, and we really don’t get to visit. Chris decided to take this opportunity to have a small get-together at his house, complete with live music. I had no idea what was in store for me.

Around 7pm, these two guys show up. Their little duo is called Hejira. One of the guys is a guitar player. The other is a cellist who once played an impromptu concert on a street corner with Justin Bieber. They set up their instruments, and tuned up. We all gathered around… and then they began to play.

If you know me at all, you know what a huge role music has always played in my life. It is a part of my soul. I don’t know how else to put it. I play it. I sing it. I listen to it. I live and breathe music. That is truly where my greatest passion lies.

As they began to actually play, I sank down to sit on the floor and just stare, open-mouthed. Within about ten seconds, I had tears in my eyes. I have never heard anything like this before, of course, since no one plays anything like this. I was blown away, and there they sat… not more than ten feet away.

The cellist is from Egypt originally, and sat first chair in the Cairo Opera House for sixteen years. He is a man who feels the music deep in his soul, and his heart comes through his fingers and out of the instrument as he plays. They take songs and put their own flavor into them, such as hits by Michael Jackson. It’s really impossible to describe. You just have to listen.

I have been struggling with some deeply personal things for several weeks, many of which came to a head very recently. My emotions have been dragged through the mud and the muck, and I’ve had a lot of trouble trying to bring myself back up. I have cried a lot, and tried to make sense of my World most of the time.

Listen to Ashraf play the cello tonight spoke to my soul. I could feel myself begin to heal a little, finding some inner peace for the first time in what feels like forever. I only wish I could find the right words to explain to you how amazing this experience was.

Please. Listen to their music. Close your eyes, and open your mind. Let the music into your heart.

I am a tech writer. I write all day – every day – about technology. Today, for the first time, I honestly wish I didn’t do what I do. I am honestly so tired of having to come up with unbiased articles about the iPad. I am not impressed with the device in the least, and I’m tired of being asked repeatedly if I’m going to buy one.

NO. I DO NOT WANT AN iPAD.

Is that clear enough for you? I’ve never wanted an iPhone, nor an iPod. I don’t NEED any of them. Too many people think they “have” to have the newest devices. For example, I had one person tell me today they will die if they don’t get one right away. I asked them why they felt so strongly that it was a “must-have” item. The answer nearly made me whimper out loud… “it’s cool! and new! and everyone else wants one!”.

Seriously? Have we sunken so low as to need items, simply because they are cool? What ever happened to needing an item because it would help us be more efficient and productive? Where do our brains go every time something cool looking is introduced into the marketplace?

In my eyes, the iPad is nothing more than a cross between an iPod and an eBook reader. I prefer to actually go to the library and check out books I can curl up in bed with and hold in my hands. I cannot read them on some tiny-assed screen. I don’t see a need for an iPod, either. I have music on my computer, on the television and on the radio. Yes, I know I could get Apps. Whoopie! I can do the very same things right here on my TouchSmart, as well.

The funny thing is that I’m not some anti-Apple person. I applaud Apple for many things that they have come out with. I don’t believe the iPad is worth clapping over, that’s all. There’s no SD Card slot. How huge of an oversight is that? There’s no Flash capability… which is going to turn off a LOT of people, mark my words.

I guess my biggest gripe today is simply the fact that people don’t seem to care anymore if a device will fit their needs, and be right for them. Too often, consumers simply see the next big thing, and have to have it. In this economy, is that really such a good idea people?

I am likely the most selfish person on the face of this Earth right now. I have had my head up my ass today, apparently. As I went about my work and my life, I heard bits and pieces of news about an Earthquake in Haiti. The reality of the situation stayed just outside of my radar, though. I was too busy to stop and look at what was really happening. I had absolutely no idea what the magnitude of devastation is in this country which is already impoverished beyond imagination.

Somewhere in my peripheral vision, I kept seeing TweetDeck notifications float by on my screen, filled with tweet after tweet where people were begging for donations, aid and prayers for Haitians. The more of these I saw, the angrier I became. I called my friend Mark Horvath. I was crying… tears of frustration and anger. I asked him how it is that people can rally their every dollar and thought for another country, when we have so many thousands here in our own backyard who need us. Poverty, starvation and homelessness abounds in the US. We are failing our own people, day after damn day. Mark suggested I speak out about this issue, and my strong feelings on the situation. However, he cautioned me to step back and outside of my emotions a little prior to writing.

Okay, he was right. I needed to step back, and gain a clear picture. I fired up my browser, and headed to MSNBC. From the very first picture, my heart was in my throat. I spent more than two hours on various news sites, reading everything I could find about the devastation. I watched videos and looked through slide-shows. I read stories about the thousands – and thousands – of people already confirmed dead, and the many thousands more still unaccounted for.

Hospitals cannot help the injured. The buildings were leveled. Medical workers are listed amongst the dead and injured. The people already in Haiti to help bring aid to the country are also counted among the missing, broken and deceased. There is no electricity, no water, no food. What few houses remain are structurally unsafe. People who were lucky enough to escape with their lives are huddling together in open fields, too afraid to enter any buildings that may still be standing.

Yes, our country needs help. People are living on the streets here. Mark is telling their stories, one family at a time. He is galvanizing others to action. I guess my little brain wanted immediate – and permanent – answers for these people. What we need in America are long-term solutions, not short-term bandaid fixes. What Haiti needs, however, is immediate help. There are more than a hundred thousand people feared dead. Many, MANY thousands are trapped, and missing. No one has food, water or shelter. Bodies are being dumped into piles on the side of the streets, so that rescue workers can concentrate on hopefully finding survivors.

I am a horrible person for not knowing anything about a situation, and still making assumptions about it. I learned years ago to always search for truth… backed up with facts. The facts in Haiti are plain to see. My heart breaks just thinking about it.

This country, already so poor and riddled with problems, may never recover. With this amount of devastation, it will be many, MANY years before the city of Port Au Prince will be able to even begin to rebuild properly. Any thoughts of full recovery during this generation is unrealistic. It is staggering – and sobering – to sit here in my warm home and attempt to picture it.

Please, if you can help, I urge you to do so. Relief efforts need supplies, people and money. Even if you don’t have a dime to spare, your thoughts and prayers will go a long way.

Tonight has been a very emotional night for me. I have recently connected with many old friends from high school via Facebook. Most of these people were good friends for so many years. Sadly, we lost touch and went separate ways prior to graduation. You see, I became pregnant with my oldest daughter during my senior year. I was extremely ill and in the hospital often. Instead of falling further and further behind in my courses, I elected to simply drop out. I’m not going to try to decide if I made the right choice at the time or not. It worked for me back then, and I’ve turned out pretty okay despite not finishing that year. However, this is not what I want to talk about at all…

One of my very best friends was a kid named Jimmy. I was a complete band nerd back then, and damn proud of it. I played clarinet in the concert band, flute in pep band, alto sax in jazz band, and was a Drum Major in marching band that last year. I LOVED band… every part of it. I was damn good at playing my instruments, and won many awards. However, I couldn’t hold a candle to Jimmy. This kid was simply awe-inspiring. He could pick up any woodwind instrument (or sit at a piano), hear a song on the radio ONCE… and play it. He could hear something, and just be able to reproduce it perfectly. He also, of course, ended up playing whatever it was over again, adding his own spin to it. His primary instrument was the flute, and it could bring tears to my eyes listening to him play. I am a music junkie, even classical. I have never met anyone else in my life who could do the things this boy could do.

Jimmy’s dream back then was to play for the Boston Pops one day. We never laughed at him. We KNEW he would make it there. I planned to be in the front row when he did. Not only was he a musical genius, he was one of my closest friends. Jimmy, Marti and I were the Three Musketeers. We were inseparable. Sure, we all had other friends. But the three of us were stuck together like glue much of the time. He always had this way of making me laugh, and not caring quite so much about what I looked like, how many friends I had, or whether my hair was big enough that day. (Remember.. it was the 80s!!)

Back to the present… I found Jimmy on Facebook the other night, and left a comment on his Wall. Earlier tonight, I received a message in my Inbox from his mom. I was shocked into stillness when I read that Jimmy had a severe stroke about two years ago. No one found him for more than 12 hours. He spent more than a year in Rehabilitation, and is still completely paralyzed on his right side… his dominant side. I quickly wrote Tanzy back, asking for more information, inquiring as to where he is and if he’d like visitors, and the like. She wrote back with more detail… and included something that chilled me to the bone.

When I read he was partially paralyzed, it didn’t hit me. Not until his mom spelled it out in black and white did I get it. Jimmy can no longer play music. It’s just… gone. To know that someone like him… someone who could bring you to your knees with a few notes played on an instrument… would never again be able to play made me completely speechless. I sat here crying quietly, for what my friend has had to go through, and for what the World has lost because of it. I truly believe with all of my heart that Jimmy would indeed have played for the Boston Pops one day.

After spending time dealing with the emotions of this revelation and making plans to call my old friend tomorrow, it hit me… I am OLD. I will be 39 next month. I know, you’re laughing and shaking your head. You know that 80 may be old, but 39 certainly is not.

I beg to differ y’all. 39 is old, at least in the way I’m thinking right now.

Jimmy was 36 years old when he had his stroke. Another girl I went to school with died this summer of a massive heart attack. Michelle was gone instantly, at the age of 38. Another long-time friend died a few years ago, at the age of 35. He dropped dead instantly… from a heart attack. I could list another four or five people, but I think you’re starting to see the pattern here.

I have taken my so-called “youth” for-granted for far too long now. I realized tonight that I have to stop thinking that I am still young enough not to worry. I can no longer put off taking care of myself. Yes, I know I should have been doing so all along. Be honest, though. How many of you have always had a healthy diet, exercised regularly, and took perfect care of yourselves? Most of us simply coast along, taking care at times, and waiting for “someday” to get serious about our health and well-being.

Someday is here, folks. MY someday is here. I have beautiful daughters and granddaughters who need me. I have family and friends who want me around. I cannot take the chance that I might be ok. I have to DO SOMETHING to make sure I am. I have no idea where to start, I admit it. I know I need to exercise. I know I need to eat healthier. I likely also need to visit a doctor, and have a complete physical with the works… Cholesterol screening, Diabetes screening (my sugar has always run too high, and Diabetes runs in my family), and more. I am going to spend some time tomorrow making notes, and figuring out a plan… after I call Jimmy and make plans to go and visit him.

Please, take care of yourselves. Stop thinking you have all the time in the World. Too many people are dying young… their lives snuffed out before they even lived what should have been half of it.

A longer version of this was sent to me in an email just now. I couldn’t help but laugh as I read it. How true most of it is! I am not that old, but there are so many differences in the World now, eh? It’s astounding to think back to my childhood in the 70s and remember the way things were then. Life was simple… and fun!

Sadly I cannot give proper attribution on this, as I have no idea where it originated from. If anyone knows, please leave me a comment so that I can correct that!

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First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us and lived in houses made of asbestos. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese, raw egg products, loads of bacon and processed meat, tuna from a can, and didn’t get tested for diabetes or cervical cancer. Then after that trauma, our baby cots were covered with bright coloured lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets or shoes, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking. As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this. We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soft drinks with sugar in it, but we weren’t overweight because… WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K. We would spend hours building our go-carts out of old prams and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. We built tree houses and dens and played in river beds with matchbox cars.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo Wii , X-boxes, no video games at all, no 999 channels on SKY , no video/dvd films, no mobile phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms… WE HAD FRIENDS… and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no Lawsuits from these accidents. We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.
We were given air guns and catapults for our 10th birthdays. We rode bikes or walked to a friend’s house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them!

Sports teams had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn’t had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!! Getting into the team was based on MERIT!

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL !