Life is a popularity contest

My life has, recently, been full of discoveries. Like how to force a front door open and how long I can dance in heels for.* Or that Emmy the Great has a blog. And not just any blog either, no - a blog where she talks about music and Graham Coxon and Diane Cluck. Its a very cool thing to have discovered, and one I would have imagined indie kids the world over to be in a state of some excitement about. But here’s the thing: if they are, they're being incredibly discreet. For someone as popular as Emmy is, her blog has remarkably few comments.

There could, of course, be several reasons for this. To begin with, her blog is only updated sporadically, so people never know when to check back. And her blogging style sets her up as a critic of her own “scene”, which possibly confuses people as well. But even so, I would have expected a few droves of fans. And, in light of the supreme lack of interest in my mix CD, I’m thinking a lot about what it means to be popular.


To begin with, being popular on the internet is clearly different from being popular in “real life”*. Kristin Chenoweth is probably not about to pop up and start singing, though it would be fun if she did. There are two distinctive zones, and many bloggers only fall into one of them. If they didn’t, Emmy the Great would have been forced to give up writing bittersweet songs years ago, though the number of teenagers posting about their loneliness would have decreased significantly.* Of course, there are some people who manage to keep feet in both camps, but these are often people who blog professionally or semi-professionally, or whose blogs are somehow linked to their careers. One of the key reasons for this is probably timing. If you don’t have much going on in “real life” then you have more time to build up a friendship base on the internet (and vice versa) while if your real life includes establishing yourself on the internet then you’ll probably be able to use your “spare time” for socialising.

On the other hand, being popular online requires some of the same skills as being popular in person – you have to make time for people, you need to be able to make appointments, and in the long run a bitching session is unlikely to endear your potential friends. It’s also helpful to have a general area in which to socialise – you’re far more likely to be able to keep up a conversation if you know what you’re both talking about. One of the reasons I keep coming back to livejournal* is the group facility, while another is the comment features. You can continue a conversation for days on end, without losing track of what you’ve said. And, if you want to, you make these conversations private. So you make time to talk to people, properly and at length, and if you desperately need to vent you can do so behind closed doors. Another useful feature is people knowing roughly when you’re going to update, or at least that you will do so fairly regularly. This is less of an issue on livejournal, where you’re probably more likely top check your friend’s page than individual links, but in the world of external bloggers it becomes far more important. People aren’t going to keep clicking on a link to see if you’ve updated if they don’t think you’re likely too. They’ll go and visit someone else’s blog instead. Or feed the fish, hang the washing out, water the plants... and subsequently forget all about you. If you run into someone in the street you might have a bit of a chat, but its more important to remember that they’re there. And the same applies on the internet.

Having written this, of course, its clear why no one’s really entered my competition. The fact I’m updating at all is probably taking you by surprise, while my new semi-regularity must be even more confusing for you than it is for me. But, to be honest, I feel like I’ve been neglecting you all shockingly. If you’re going to take the time to read my wittering, I should respond properly. Think of this as a pre-new-years-resolution. An old year’s resolution? New me resolution? Or something else. And, if you’re bored, go and read about Graham Coxon on Emmy’s blog as well. Or join me in watching the Gabriel video obsessively.

I’m off to make mince pies and celebrate Christmas now, but I’ll talk to you soon, I promise. And I’ll extend the competition if you want, so that you’ve all got more time. It shouldn’t require too much effort – just think of your favourite song with which to start a mix-tape.

Happy Almost Christmas

xxx




*a. Use a screwdriver as a wedge, and never let everyone leave the house at once.
b. 2 hours, 45 minutes
*I spend far too much time with philosophers.
*There can never be too much self-mockery.
* Livejournal is the Hotel California of the internet. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave!

Songs for a Stranger

(from a T-shirt found at cafe press.)

Last night I made a mix CD for a boy that I never have never met. Someone who may not exist, and who may have very different ideas on what constitutes music than me. It seemed romantic at the time. The twee whimsy* has lingered a little, but I cant help thinking that the notes swirl with desperation, as well as pretty dreams.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t actually my idea. I was bewailing the lack of suitable crush material to Northern, and tried to explain how much of an adrenalin rush making a CD for someone who you like but are never sure will like you back can be. The closest I got was that it was like the moment before being kissed, extended, with its own soundtrack devised by you. And with the sort of boys I usually date, the trick is to find the right songs that they have, somehow, never heard.

Ironically, of course, when the next boy comes along I’ll probably find that he wont like the music after all. Mix tapes belong to their time, too, and this wont. It will be a snapshot from another time, months ago, when everything thought, felt and sounded subtly different.

So, instead, I’m going to send the CD to one of you. Think of it as an early Christmas present. Just tell me what your mix-tape to no-one would begin, and my favourite answer (& therefore probably the person most likely to enjoy the collection) wins. You have until night falls on the T-house Christmas (9pm on Wednesday 10th)

Deal? I hope so.

Xxx

Lucinda


*I dress in capes and go to scrabble nights. I don’t see being twee as a problem

Oh Shame, where is thy blush?

Someone over at /Fangs, Fur, Fey started a discussion on self-promotion with a link to a discussion on Good Reads. Now, Good Reads isn’t a site I normally visit (mostly because my bank balance is already looking a little like a deflated balloon), but the conversation was getting very interesting and tense in a way that only internet conversations really seem to. It was looking into authors self-promoting, when was too much and what people particularly hated. Some resented long signatures, others authors reviewing themselves with 5*, while other people either hated both, none, or were generally indifferent. But, about halfway down, someone asked “Whatever happened to humility?”

Later on, when texting a friend of mine, I was struck by the realisation that I am incapable of claiming to be good at anything. In actual fact I am probably [Lucinda takes a deep breath and crosses her fingers] quite good at a lot of things. I’m highest in our year at uni for English and creative writing, I can start choir three weeks before a concert and support the soprano line, I made most of the costumes for Wyrd Sisters last year, I have a good sense of style and I’m organising a Shakespeare festival. And, if my friends reports are anything to go by, I can also act. But saying I’m any good at them is impossible, and I’m often struck by the knowledge (especially at moments like this) that I might not be as good at them as I imagine.
Part of this, of course, is insecurity. I know I have some issues there, but that’s such old news that its barely worth commenting on. But what about the rest? When did blowing one’s own trumpet become the norm, making modesty a hindrance? If, indeed, it has. The English faculty in Cardiff is a particularly good example of this – one lady in incredibly intelligent, but so modest she makes you feel as though you’re on her level, even when she’s several intellectual steps up. But when I was discussing this with one of the lady’s PHD. students, a few weeks back, it sounded almost as though the girl believed this was a waste. To her, modesty was simultaneously lovely and an insecurity that should be overcome.
So what do you think? Is modesty another form of insecurity, or is it good manners? Is humility outdated, replaced by the needs to assert yourself in the fast-paced, easily distracted modern world? Is self-promotion embarrassing for all involved? Is there a happy medium? Or could you not care less?
Xxxxx

p.s. On a completely unrelated note, Dawn Metcalf and I spent some time discussing dressing up in my last post. And I thought one of the best things ever would be a day where you dress up as one of your characters and spend it writing from their perspectives. Is anyone up for that? It would have to be a day most people were free, which now probably means after Christmas, but I think it would be great fun. What do you reckon? (Pictures, of course, would be essential.)



(This is a strange Puck/Princess Mononoke combination, but you get the gist)