Saturday, February 18, 2012

Your Personal Media Sphere

We live in a larger media sphere than our parents did.  Each morning, my mother reads the paper.  She enjoys the time reading and she gets caught up on what's happening locally.  My generation is a different story.

We live in a world that's much bigger than our local, physical, area.  Our "home region" is more an esoteric group of our peers.  These peers are people who may be anywhere on the globe, but subscribe to the same things we find cool, interesting or just topical.  They don't have to be local.  They don't even have to be regional.

When my parents come to have dinner, I turn on the evening news.  First, it's local news and then some national news follows.  There aren't any hyper links to go to the articles you find most interesting; you get what they want to show you—you get Mrs. Tisdale's backyard bee problem story. 

I don't care about Mrs. Tisdale, or her bees.  I want to know about the latest Sony technology innovation.  Sorry, you live near me, but you're not my biggest concern.  I sound terribly unpatriotic when I talk about this, but I think it's our generation.  We care about news that relates to us; not news that's close to us.

The Big Boy Update: Sticks and stones.  He loves outside.  He loves sticks.  He loves leaves.  He loves stones.  He hates being brought inside when he was outside.  Even if it's in the 30's. It's a nice day today.  He's on a walk around the block with my husband and he's checking out the flora (both dead and alive) and he's having lots of fun.  They've been gone a good while.  Hopefully I'll see them before dinner.


The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Crying is tiring.  She gets done eating sometimes before she's done eating.  If you put her down for a few minutes she'll change her mind, and she'll change it loudly.  Today when she decided she wanted more lunch, I was busy cleaning up from my lunch.  She cried with an additive of wail for about ten minutes.  When I came back to feed her she was focused and ready to eat.  When she was done, she was tired and ready to have a nap.  Sometimes crying can be a good thing.

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