The giggle of eyelashes*

In graduate school I learned to sing the body electric. The program I attended was more about souls and songs and art and heart and expression than it was about lectures and footnotes and appendices and theses. We created and explored. We put font to music. We made books and paper and poetry.

At first, I balked at the artsy fartsyness of it all. I wanted to be a serious student, with serious success, large textbooks, late nights at the library over microfiche, bibliographic complexity. Instead I got professors who encouraged us to open class with an African blessing to the dawn, who wanted artistic presentations on feminist gods, who expected me to dig, dig, dig deep into wells of pain and self and remembrance and hope to create art. It was all so much kumbaya and not enough cross-referencing. At first. But gradually, with eye-rolls and exasperated huffs and hesitant inchings toward release, I succumbed to the power in their poetry, the worth of their wonder. And I'm a better writer for it.

Today's blogger reminds me of that time in graduate school, when I sloughed off some of that rigid academia to embrace the tickle of words. Maya at One Paragraph at a Time is a poet who would have fit in nicely with my crowd of wordmongers in graduate school.

I hesitate to tell you her blog is almost entirely poetry. But wait! I know. I thought the same thing at first. A whole blog? Over four years of posts? With nothing but poetry? Pass. But stick with me here because Maya can write some damn poetry. I actually like it. Kind of a lot. Her writing is contemplative and introspective and deliberate and lovely and tactile and thoughtful. She writes about nostalgia and sex ("he was all hers, one locked muscle of utter fealty") and lies. Her poetry is honest and mature and revealing. Every word is revered, precisely chosen, and treasured.

I just read an entire blog of poetry. I can't believe it, either, but I did. And I loved it. Oh, the template is boring, and Maya could stand to roll up her archives. But the template doesn't even matter because her artistry is on the screen, in those words I want to roll around on my tongue, those words that delight my eyes. This is not some angsty teenage blithering with rhymed, insipid dreck. This is real, this is art, and this is good.








*My title is stolen from Maya @ One Paragraph at a Time.

"When you can take the pebble from my hand, it will be time for you to leave"

I didn't know how to start this review. For the first paragraph or so of my reviews, I generally like to pull out some piece of the personality or experience of the blogger I'm reviewing to relate to or make fun of. I think of how their lives relate or don't relate to mine, I tell a charming or embarrassing story from my past, I make fun of myself and them, I tell you who I am and who they are: pretty much I find some way to make it about me, too. Because I'm just that self-centered. Also it makes for good story telling. Don't tell me it doesn't because I won't believe you (Remember? Self-centered.).

I feel like over the past year or so of reviewing blogs I've started to know what I'm doing. I've been feeling rather old-hat, really: like I've seen it all now, the good blogs and the terrible blogs and the blogs that are getting by but need some work. There haven't been all that many surprises for me lately, and the reviews come quick and dirty and easily. More often than not, frankly, I feel better than the unwashed blogging masses, which sounds really puffed up and full of myself, and, guess what, I am sometimes. (Both better than the unwashed masses and full of myself, at the same time and independent of the other. I'm also over-explainy and unduly fond of parentheticals.)

But this week I struggled.

First impressions: Nice design, organized, good about page, love the tabs and the FAQs, hate the ads, but in today's economy I'm becoming more lax on that (shill!). The archives are all tidy, but I don't like how they automatically roll back up -- sometimes static wins.

Digging in: The dating chronicles are amusing, although she reveals a slight tendency toward superficiality, which is probably forgivable under the auspices of online dating. Also, she realizes she has issues, and I like people who own their foibles. She wears Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab perfume, which is my absolute fave (I wear their O). But I can't figure out whey she sometimes writes "noh" instead of "no."

I want to read the entire thing from the beginning, which is a good sign, although there is a marked gap between 2004 and 2008. Anna, I'd like a bit of a re-introduction when you start blogging again in 2008 -- what happened in the meantime? Now all the sudden there's a kid and a husband.

There are posts about things and products and such, which is fine by me. I'm a material girl and I like a review once in a while. And, true to her tag line, there are pop cultural references (I've never watched a single episode of John & Kate, but I don't have to -- the internet tells me all I need to know.) and thoughts about being a mother that in no way step over the line into dreaded cutesy mommy blogger territory.

Here's where my struggle comes in: I feel like I can't really critique her. Anna has got this shit down. She posts often, she writes so very well, she's insightful and charming and she's got a blog design that works and matches her personality. I like her. A lot. If I didn't have all this pesky work to do, I'd have pulled up close and clicked through her entire oeuvre. I no doubt will at some point. She strikes a balance between revealing herself in bits and pieces and just downright entertaining us. She's a smartypants and she knows it but isn't all sneery about it, and I love that. But she's also totally neurotic and acerbic and funny and honest, which I love even more. I find myself in the unenviable position of wishing she'd review my blog instead of the other way around. I figure she can teach me a thing or two.

The thing is, Bob, it's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care.

The world of business and corporations and networking and conference calls and Six Sigma and Someone Stole My Cheese and marketing-speak and power suits is utterly beyond me. It's all so much nonsense. Which is kind of a shame, really, because I'd probably be making a lot more money if things like "branding," "market share," and "competitive intell" meant anything at all to me.

But Dot Com Mom gets it in spades. And she writes about it. Lucky me.

Blogger has, I'm guessing, something like 10 standard templates available for the 36 million (roughly) bloggers using its platform. Each of them are tired, boring, and barely functional not to mention generally ugly. Do you really identify yourself so much with the sea and nautical life that you'd use their lighthouse template to represent who you are? I know one person who can reasonably get away with this, and you aren't that person.

Look, people: a blog is, if nothing else, an expression of self (or at least it damn well should be). Sure, for us it's about the writing, and good writing is more likely to make me disregard the trappings of your blog. You can wrap a pile of dog shit up in pretty bows and lovely paper, but it's still a pile of dog shit. But if you wrap a pile of gold in used diapers, I'm not going to go digging for the gold. Appearance and accessibility matter.

That said, your blog could be gorgeous and cleverly formatted and easily navigated, but if you don't post consistently you're just taking up space. Allison's got a grand total of 18 posts. Two of them from 2003. And she hasn't written since March. This is a colossal waste of my time.

Not surprisingly there's no About page, and Allison's Blogger profile gives nothing away. So I don't know why I should listen to a thing she has to say, there's no impetus for me to be curious about her because she likes something I like or hates something I like or mentions something personally intriguing. There's nothing personal here. It's a small collection of self-important essays on politics, technology, and lord knows what all else because it's so heavily couched in tech and marketing and management terms that it loses all meaning for me.

Allison makes you work for it, and even the good stuff can be an ungodly chore to get through, with explanatory links and marginally obscure references overshadowing really quite fine writing. I didn't care enough to click on those external links. I mean, do we really need a link to a definition of "smart cookie"? No, no we don't. Those links are distracting instead of helpful; they just direct us away from your writing, which is (or could be) really rather good. I'm not denying the very real intelligence Allison displays, but it's off-puttingly lacquered with excess information while being unsettlingly devoid of heart.

I could go through and list my constructive criticism now, but I honestly can't be bothered to expend the energy for someone who hasn't updated since March and managed to eke out a dozen posts this year. Get back to me when you've decided to be a blogger.

"What they created was greater than art because you live your life in it"

I don't really know how to handle a stylish man. I live at the intersection of Izods, madras shorts, and deck shoes and trucker hats, T-shirts with wildlife themes, and Levis. My father has a closet full of lawyerly Oxford shirts and loafers, light blue Wranglers from the 80s, and a captain's hat he wears at every opportunity. The man in my life, although adorable, wears interchangeable blue jeans, khaki shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flips year-round, with little thought for trends or personal flair or tailoring. Hell, I buy most of his clothes, and as long as they fit and aren't red, orange, or brown, he's good. The only fashionable guy I've ever dated looked like Rob Lowe and wore pink Polos and Ray Bans and checked himself out in every available reflection. I'm pretty sure he used a hair dryer. It was obviously never going to work between us. My gay brother is the only man in my life who is stylish: he is impeccably and expensively dressed at all times, his clothes are always tailored and pressed and coordinated, and he has the best accessories, including an impressive and chic eyewear collection. I once spent a delightful few minutes gently stroking the lapel of his Chanel suit.

So it's understandable that, given my background, it took me a while to realize that the author of Getting Beat Like You Stole Something is a straight man. This says nothing about the author (except that he neglected to have an about page) and everything about my expectations for male behavior. Because here is a boy with a fashion blog. A straight boy. No, really.

For a fashion blog (oh, he says it's a "fashion, food, design, art, and culture in general" blog, but it leans heavily on the fashion bit), the design is rather stark. I'm like minimalism (did anyone see that episode of Absolutely Fabulous where Edina and Patsy visit their friends' ultra white home? No?), and you definitely don't want to over-design your blog when you're featuring so many pictures, but a little pizazz wouldn't hurt. Get a groovy banner, roll up your archives and your categories, and add a punch of color. Make your design more personal: we can't all be The Sartorialist. Consider using tabs; you can easily put "my stuff," "stuff for your girl," and "steez biting" on their own pages. And you need an about page. Who the heck are you, and why should we care what you think?

Greenjeans is an urban hipster, as I understand them, but classy and tailored with a retro-chic vibe. So hip is he, in fact, that I had to urban dictionary the hell out of some things. "Co-sign"? "Dopeshow"? Really? Why did people ever stop saying "radical"? I felt a bit like I needed to wrangle Rassles in on this review, for translation purposes. The author is a pretentious little git, which doesn't mean I don't like him. I'd just spend a lot of time calling him a pretentious little git.

Aside from being a pretentious urban hipster, Greenjeans has his good points. He knows who Nancy Kwan is, for one, and mentions her often. He's got a healthy appreciation for those who've come before, and his writing is spare but evocative.

She seems like the girl you met during that semester abroad in Paris. You were supposed to study international finance and the effects of globalization but instead you marveled at how she smoked endless cigarettes and drank really strong coffee. That and the way she dressed made you feel like you were in a movie.

A good tie is a like a good gun, it won't let you down and is apropos in nearly any situation.

His offers quick, well-written observations and longer, equally well-written commentary. I like his style and his voice, and it was a nice diversion to browse back through his short but consistent history of posts and linger a while.

I have no complaints about your writing, Greenjeans. Your blog isn't expository or personal or even a showcase for your craft; it's a collection of tips, opinions, and observations. And though I generally prefer the former, there's nothing wrong with the latter. It's possible you're lucky you got me for a reviewer, because I'm the one with a hefty subscription to fashion blogs on my feed reader. And congratulations, you just joined them.

Blogger, know thyself

I started blogging as a way to train myself to write every day. I'd long said I wanted to be a writer, and I thought creating a habit, flexing my writing muscles by blogging, would be a good way to start reaching that goal (almost four years later and I'm not limber enough yet). I thought I'd tell amusing stories, make a few people laugh, comment on the news and pop culture of the day, revive some bits of nostalgia, and just crack my knuckles and get down to the business of writing. What I didn't expect was the opportunity for self-exploration and connection blogging could provide. The more I blogged, the more I learned about myself. And the more I blogged, the more I learned about others, about how we're alike in our differences, about how people are usually more than you think.

What strikes me about today's reviewee is that he seems so self-aware. He knows who he is, what's important to him, what he likes and dislikes and dreams. I don't know how much self-knowledge blogging affords him, but whatever his motivation for blogging, whatever unexpected benefits he may gain from it, I'm glad he does.

Jacob at Jacob's Land of Bliss and Blisters says his blog is "... a little difficult to describe. I'm a scattered, random and eclectic person. So is my blog." And he's right.

He uses a standard blogger template, and though it's not horrible it's also not all that attractive or personal. I'd like a little more personality -- a photographic banner, perhaps. Though it is relatively uncluttered, the font is a bit small. Roll up your archives, Jacob, and consider tabs. Try to fix it so you've got no more than, say, six posts on a page.

Readers take note: he's got a great "about" page. This is what we want: just the basics, a little upfront information on who you are and what to expect. You don't have to shoot your wad there and give us everything, but give us a taste, just the tip. (Although, Jacob, consider linking to the blogs of those you list under "cast" right there in the text.)

Jacob is a frequent, long-term blogger with a backlog of EIGHT YEARS of posts, though only the last three have been consistent. Normally for a blog with that long a history, I'll go back to the first couple of posts just to see how it all started then stick with the current year. But I got sucked in and wanted to read the whole thing. I couldn't, though, not in the time I'd allotted myself to review.

I love a Georgia boy, and they love their football. But like Chris's blog (one Jacob and I both read), sometimes the football talk gets boring for me 'cause they're not talking about Florida State (except here -- Go Noles!). I can forgive him his low opinion of Florida. Barely.

But I just like his voice. Even when he's boring and fatalistic and misanthropic, he's entertaining and well-written and thoughtful. He's dry and smart and self-aware.

True, they're mostly loooong posts. He's got a lot to say and he usually says it very well. It's not that I think you should edit, Jacob, although you probably could prune a bit. It's that I'd like to see more variety in length. Acres of lengthy posts can be a little daunting for a reader. There's a tendency toward tangential and rambling writing, and though this is one of those cases where I think it works in your favor, it would work even better if you switched it up with some more brief, succinct posts thrown in (something it seems you've started doing more of in recent months).

They say you can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep, and I tend to think that's true. This is why a blogroll is, for me, as important as an about page. I wanna know who you are and who you like. In this case, I like who Jacob is, and I like who he likes.

Happy Families

I like hippies. You probably wouldn't know that to look at me, what with my professional attire and fastidious grooming habits. Though I own several pairs of Birks, there's not a flowy skirt or artsy messenger bag made of hemp in my closet. I hardly even recycle. But the hippie philosophy and lifestyle is interesting and attractive to me in some ways. I'm down with being green, peaceful, accepting, alternative, global, and friendly to plants bearing red hairs and crystals. If I weren't so lazy and greedy and averse to vegetarianism, I'd be a fairly decent hippie. Well, no, maybe not; but I'm a sympathizer, a sideliner, a champion of hippieness.

Except when it gets as preachy and holier-than-thou as the local Bible thumpers at a tent revival, where speaking in organic is akin to speaking in tongues. I tend to agree with the Greeks: moderation in all things. Paxye, my reviewee, is a kind of extremist mother hippie with very definite ideas about parenting and childrearing and birthing and holistic living, which are all well and good except kind of fanatical.

Her blog has a pretty design, although she doesn't need three columns. No one needs three columns. And I was a three column culprit once upon a time! Paxye, get rid of the recent posts and comments, roll up your categories, move your archives, and drop it back to two columns. You'll thank me. Think about tabs instead of the links at the bottom of the page -- best to have those options right up where we can get to them.

Now. The content. Look, I get it. Kids are important. They are, as Whitney so gloriously proclaimed before she discovered that crack is whack, our future. But I don't have kids. I don't want kids. The cult of the baby is completely beyond me and quite frankly a little distasteful. If I had little Mini Me offspring I might feel differently, I grant you, but basically the industry and focus and obsession with tots is, for me, weird. I spent several bewildering hours last Friday listening in on the mothers of young children and, for me, it was like hearing about a well-tended garden when I have a black thumb.

And this blog is devoted entirely to parenting, babies, birthing, "unschooling" (don't ask me), child development, co-sleeping, baby-wearing, and any number of other bits of parenthood and family making that I just can't get into. She's all about "alternative parenting," which I find both ridiculous and inspiring, depending on the topic. There are things with which I agree and others I find frankly disturbing. But this isn't about judging her parenting habits or philosophies (a task for which I feel woefully unprepared and yet strangely inspired to perform), it's about judging her blog.

To that end, her blog is one of those here's what we did today types, which I really don't give a flip about. Add in some thinly veiled lifestyle smugness and a crusading atmosphere, and you've just completely lost me. Her 100 things talks about a lot of things that will really offend her: hello, off-putting. There is ellipses overkill, my particular bugaboo. And I get the sense that she has very little humor, silliness, ribaldry, or inappropriate behavior in her life, which is disappointing. Perhaps that's just what she's presenting here, but that's all I've got to go on. It's all peace and happy families and art projects, none of which are bad things, they're just not all that interesting, especially how she writes about them.

Now, let's get to that: the writing. There is no artistry or craft in posting something like this or this stupendously boring post. I'm guessing she doesn't edit or review or experience her writing. This isn't writing, it's typing. People who share her parenting views might get a lot out of this blog, but they could get so much more if she'd tighten up her writing and tell a story instead of enumerating what she and the kids and sometimes her husband did each day. And then there's that -- there's not a lot of writing about the hubs in this blog, which seems curious.

Plus there are recipes with, like, vegetables. I ask you. Where's the bacon? Where's the booze? Where's the SEX?! And, more importantly, where's the weed? I mean, "hippie" is right there in the title; I expect some herb.

In all seriousness, though, we talk so often about what makes a good blog: having a unique voice, being an outstanding writer, or being a hot mess. Paxye, you're not giving us any of these things. The writing isn't enough to keep me interested, the subject is totally outside the realm of my experience, and there's no dirt to speak of -- so, you've lost me.

What you have going for you are some cute kids and really nice photos, a niche audience, and a willingness and commitment to write frequently. If you want to gain other readers, get off the kid train and tell us something else about your life. If you want to better serve your target readers, pay attention to the words you put on the screen, edit yourself, post things that are relevant, meaningful, and above all well-constructed. Never use another ellipsis again, capitalize things that should be capitalized, pay attention to grammar and structure, refrain from telling us your weekly schedule unless you can make it interesting or informative or funny, and for the love of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (in whom you do not believe -- for shame) don't post for the sake of posting.

Wishing I'd traveled the hippie trail

There are a couple of topics that, if you write about them consistently on your blog, I'm liable to be sucked in. These are: James Bond, sex, being young and horny during the years 1991-1998, the beach, unicorns, pop culture, grammar and usage, ABBA, historical fiction, porn, and traveling.

And of these, traveling might hold a dearer spot in my heart than some the others. At heart I'm a frustrated vagabond. I know that a lot of people get bored looking at other people's vacation slides. Not me. I want to see, and while you're at it give me a running commentary. And if your travels consist of roughing it, or going the long way around, or going somewhere tourists don't tend to go, or going by yourself? So much the better. I'm an escapist, I guess: I want to go with you, even if it's only through reading your stories. Hell, one of my favorite people is Rick Steves.

I wasn't sure about Toukakoukan: In at the Deep End when I first clicked on the site. I thought, "Oh, another Long Way Round." The design is kind of clunky and a bit basic. But it gets the job done, with the intro right there on the front page telling you where to start. The About page is informative, but nowhere does it explain Toukakoukan. Also, Sam, add a map -- it's a good way for us to tag along. A search option wouldn't go amiss, either.

You read it chronologically: The trek starts in May 2008, but there's buildup to the trip beginning in August 2007. You can skip the buildup, though, because it's mostly bike repairs and girlfriend drama and, well, buildup.

Initially Sam takes on a motivational-speakerish tone, but this quickly disappears (for the better). At first he seemed a go-getter, which can come across a little frenetic and disingenuous to me, but I'm more cynical than I realize sometimes. But quite soon it became obvious that this is a smart kid. Really smart. And more independent and inquisitive and, frankly, mature than most I've come across, including myself.

It is, ultimately, a diary. The posts, although smart and interesting, are a bit unpolished. This is both understandable and forgivable: he's writing this from the road, stopping in Internet cafes when he can, recalling tales and experiences and people. And though a little slipshod, his writing holds these great little kernels of character and wry observances and keen insights.

I'll admit the discussions about bikes and gear bored me to tears, but I'm a girl. And Sam is so cheerfully game, irreverent, and strangely wise for one so young. I don't normally excerpt in my reviews, but I really liked these:

"...only yesterday I spent the night in a ditch, which is not as bad as it sounds surprisingly."

"I hastily put down my, by now, sodden map of Corsica to wave at a group of eight German overlanders who were passing by just as I realised I’d spent the last 6 hours going in a circle trying to get to where I already was."

"I arrived in Chur, bent down to take off my motorcross boots as they’re as about as suitable for walking in as a chastity belt is for the reverse cowgirl."

"Bumper cars sit gently rusting, never having heard the playful whoops of children in their midst."

So, it's a little scattershot, the paragraph spacing is nonexistent, he goes a long time between posting (hell, he's living on a bike, I'll give him a break for that), and maybe there's a little rambling philosophizing going on, but do I care? No. Not at all. Because this guy's traveling around on his motorcycle, seeing the world and meeting people and having spills and letting us tag along for the ride. I'm a sucker for stories, and this guy's got one. Not to mention the truly great photos.

Yes, it's been done before and documented. But every journey is different, as is ever traveler. And Sam is a talented storyteller with an engaging perspective and a unique voice. Once he took to the road, I couldn't stop reading. And I'm not done yet.

Sam, good job keeping track of this once(or twice?)-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don't let the experience slip away -- document everything with intention. And when you get settled and are off the road, come back to the blog and spruce things up. I hope you're keeping a written journal, too. Take the stuff you've written there, add it to the great things you've got going here, pile in the photos, and really make this a cohesive and detailed documentation of your journey. It's fascinating, you're a great guide, and I can't wait to read more.







*The Hippie Trail