I wrote kind of a long post. It was about how great Flickr used to be, and lots other internet nostalgia — Consumating, Upcoming, stuff that just isn’t like it used to be. It made me sound like an old fogey. Feel like an old fogey. And really, all I wanted to say was that Upload all to-be-uploaded Flickr photos was on my 2012 New Year’s resolutions. I also included a half-apology about posting a New Year’s resolution in February. All in all, fairly self-passive-aggressive.
So instead I wrote this. It’s about how I think it will be good to just have all my photo backlog uploaded safe, public, and forever. How I can use my DSLR again without such a burden of responsibility. It’s about getting my life a little more sorted. And not being such a nostalgia freak, even when the territory get pretty darn nostalgic. Short and sweet.
Since the beginning of May, I have been continuously two months behind on uploading pictures to Flickr.
It just happened. See, we were looking for apartments. Every day, we’d go and see more apartments and take pictures to show the soon-to-be-roomies what the places looked like. ‘Course, we’d end up applying anyways toward the end. But some of the pictures were good. And a lot of the time, there was no more time. So I built up a backlog of decent, mostly story-telling pictures that sat around until I could find a place… and then find a job… and then find time.
I have myself experienced on a number of occassions the Red Queen. “It takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place.” I’ve uploaded pictures aplenty—all from around two months back. I make rent every month, yet somehow I have to keep working. And there’s so much upkeep in breathing, every day, every hour, every etc.
I want to complete them. I wanna be done. I’d like to come home and fling a whole buncha stuff on the internet and I don’t want to care about it. I have an unimpressive obsession. I know this. But I’m still obsessed.
Don’t you want to know what I did yesterday, and not last May?
I haven’t been paying attention. The place changes so fast.
I find it is a healthy and normal internet activity to Google oneself™. While some might characterize this activity as self-indulgent and call it “ego-surfing,” those 21st-century web-savvy digitally-enabled electronically-mobile young semi-professionals amongst us… we know better. We’ve got enough stuff up on The Internet that the FBI doesn’t even have to ask us where we were four nights ago—we’ll tell them. I’d suppose, what with all this stuff lying around right here on this website, that I am counted among the no-privacy generation.
So I should really know (since I’m in charge of it) what about me is going up on the web. That’s half the idea of this glot-thing: to manage digital identity—all my junk in one pile. I was amused yesterday when a friend stumbled on an article about how to dump your travel partner that featured one of my Flickr photos. They’re all Creative Commons licensed, which means anyone can use ’em so long as they say who took ’em. Then today, for whatever reason, I decided instead of googling my name I would google my flickr name.
I found a lot.
The most elegant photo I’ve found on Flickr (today).