The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for February 2014

Social Media Is Responsible For Bad Sex

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sex inn

There is more in common with sex and social media than you might think. If you want to give good social media you need to be open to real intimacy.

If you want to reach into a person’s heart and make them feel you have to do more than just give your body to them, you have to open doors that are often closed.

It really isn’t any different with social media,.

Connections

When I look at the most popular posts on the blog it is a mixture of humor and serious material. Posts about my relationship with my father have always done well.

It is not particularly profound or insightful to say they work because they provide a place for people to connect. Sometimes when I surf through the blogosphre the posts and comments I read make me think that the blogosphere is our collective cry for “connect with me.

Moving Sucks

When I was a kid I remember my father told me he moved 13 times growing up and that was why he didn’t want to move us around. He thought it would be easier if we stayed in one place and had roots.

And we did.

My kids had that for a good long while and then we sold the house and moved. It wasn’t my first choice, but it was necessary and ultimately I think it was a good thing.

But I still get angry when I look at The Story Of A House- The Final Days and I wonder when the fire inside will stop burning. Moved three times during 2013 and in a week I am going to move again.

All of these moves were planned and they have all helped my family so from that perspective I don’t mind them at all, but  I am looking forward to not having to move for a while.

But that is not going to happen with this move, this is another transition. We’ll be in the new place for a big chunk of time and unless I am totally mistaken we are going to really like it.

But I still am not thrilled about moving, it sucks.

The Worst Sex Ever

Do you really think I am going to tell you about my worst sexual experience? Yeah, I am unfiltered and willing to say anything to anyone, at any time but this is a family blog.

But I am happy to hedge a bit and tell you that some things can impact your mood and experience. Teeth, bodily fluids, smells and sounds can really make you smile or they can really make you wonder if you should run like hell.

Sometimes you look back and wonder if Allen Funt was going to jump out of the closet and tell you that you had been drugged and transported to cleveland as part of some Candid Camera prank.

How Is Social Media Responsible For Bad Sex

Several years ago I was trapped on a plane and forced to listen to the ravings of the guy sitting next to me.  One of the things I remember most was how he looked at my smartphone and told me that my phone and social media were responsible for bad sex.

I told him I agreed and that I wish my phone put out more and that I was really disappointed about how long it took to make it happy and then he told me I was weird.

Sadly I wasn’t weird enough for him to decide it would be better not to talk for six hours. Neither headphones nor fake snoring were enough to get him to shut up, but I digress.

The one thing that he said that made sense was that social media was going to make it impossible for people to talk and connect with each other and if they couldn’t connect we would all have bad sex.

I don’t agree with his belief that social media is going to kill our ability to talk or connect with others but I understand why he said what he said.

Because from his perspective people weren’t engaging in face to face communication and instead were talking via text.

And if you want to create a great experience in person or online than you have to find a way to be more than just pixels on a page.

What do you think?

What Is The Value Of A Newsletter?

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Black hole wind

P.S. Should anyone from high school be reading this let me remind you that I founded the Apathy Club. It was funny because no one showed up for meetings. It wasn’t funny when you knuckleheads stole my idea and took a picture of yourselves sleeping and put it in the yearbook. One day you’ll pay for that. Really, you’ll wake up and find rabid squirrels in your trousers… From The Words We Write

Someone let Stephen King I killed my darlings but they came back and I am scared. Hold me.

Ok, I am just kidding about the hold me part. I wouldn’t want to make old “Ann with No E” Stacey jealous.

Anyhoo, I have a newsletter that more than a 100 of you signed up for. I started the newsletter because it fits into my learn by doing philosophy.

In simple terms I wanted to learn the ins and outs about how to build and operate a successful list on my own. I didn’t want to buy someone else’s information because I wanted to be like Frank and do it my way…and I did.

Consistency, Open Rates & Cost

When I started my newsletter I decided to use AWeber instead of Mailchimp and some of the other players but that might have been a mistake.

It is not because I dislike AWeber or find it difficult to use, on the contrary. No, the reason it was a mistake was because after the trial ended I started paying  a fee to use it each month.

Initially I didn’t care because I thought the value of the newsletter would outweigh the costs. I expected to use it to drive more traffic and potentially generate some cash through affiliate links, but that didn’t happen.

You can attribute that to my not spending as much time with it as I should have. You can attribute my not spending time with it to being over extended in other areas and to being disappointed with the return on my effort.

I was told the newsletter was interesting and useful. The open rates were quite good in the beginning and then they tailed off and I began to wonder if I was fighting a losing battle.

Useful and interesting content is a must but so is time and when people are drowning in email you have to work extra hard to demonstrate that your content is useful, interesting, relevant and worth looking at each time.

One week when I was overwhelmed with work I missed my deadline and I didn’t publish the newsletter. I didn’t hear from any one about this and I wondered if that meant that no one noticed it hadn’t come.

If No One Notices…

The lack of response made me question whether people found it to be useful or not and so I tweaked things so that the next issue would be better.

It certainly got a better response than the one that didn’t go out but it wasn’t greeted with cheers or anything that made me think any one noticed its return so I wondered if I was spinning my wheels.

I had ideas for how to change it and part of me was intrigued by the challenge. It would be fun to revamp and rework things except I didn’t do it.

It wasn’t for lack of desire, but lack of time.

So I decided to sit on things for a while and think about whether I should keep it.

Have You Reached A Decision?

The answer is I haven’t officially reached a decision about what to do and how to do it. I don’t like spending money to support something that isn’t being used and I hesitate to just kill it so I am playing around with moving to a different platform.

But even if everyone moves with me it doesn’t mean that I am going to have more time so in some ways the question isn’t what does it cost but can I make more time for it.

And that is something that only I can answer.

Stay tuned.

Standing On The Outside Looking In

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The scarey hole in the wall

Middle school is an awkward and uncomfortable time of life for many of us or so we are told. I remember hearing from parents, teachers and after school specials that we all feel weird and that it goes away.

But I don’t know if it ever really did for me. I am not sure if I ever got past the feeling that I was standing on the outside looking in. I want to say I did.

I want to say that puberty came and went and I reached a place where I never felt foolish, stupid or uncomfortable. Want to say that I never had another time where it felt like everyone else had figured it out and I hadn’t, but that is not true.

Not true because some days I look in the mirror and wonder why life seems so easy for some people and how I managed to always find the hard way to do things.

Does Father Know Best?

Last night I sat down with my son and talked about his life. He told me about some of his hopes and dreams and shared some of his fears and I did my best to make him feel comfortable and secure.

I was honest with my answers and I told him there are moments where I wonder if I have made the right choices and admitted sometimes I feel like I have really screwed up.

When he nodded his head I made a point to tell him that I really believe happiness comes from managing expectations and how well we are able to roll with the punches.

Didn’t make that up. It wasn’t some sort of parental hypnosis or flat out bullshit.

It was me.

And then I thought about an experience a while back where I felt like I was standing on the outside looking in and I shook my head. I am going to be 45 in May and I have a very thick skin, but there are a few gaps in the armor and on that day mine was pierced.

Misplaced Priorities

Sometimes the discussions about long form content make me want to scream. People tell me that I have to stop writing the way I like to because no one reads any more.

They say attention spans are barely greater than a gnat and that I am killing my blog and that my professional work will suffer because people won’t read that either.

So I think about my friend Mr. Emerson and wonder what he might say.

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sometimes I read those words and thump my chest because I am me. I swim against the tide, stand fast against the hordes and guard the castle gates.

And then the guy who wonders about standing on the outside looking in asks if I have been smart. He wonders if the willingness to be different is wise and suggests that maybe I have brought more grief than joy.

Maybe I am wrong to look at others as having misplaced priorities. Maybe the reasons why I have fought more battles than others are all to be found in my reflection.

Sure I can point my finger at others and talk about what they did. I can shake my head and scream about the importance of healthcare for all. I can tell you that I didn’t watch the debate about science versus religion because I had better things to do than give my time to a guy who thinks Noah carried a T-Rex next to a zebra.

But maybe that has made life harder. Maybe I should look at the Sneetches with the gold stars and get one of my own.

What Lets You Sleep At Night

Midway through our conversation I hear him drift off and I smile. There is something reassuring to me about listening to the kids breathe while they sleep.

Sometimes when they were babies I would let them sleep on my shoulder and the sound of their breathing would magically pull the tension out of my shoulders.

Moments before his eyes closed we were talking about what it means to live a life that lets you sleep at night. I was talking with him about our Uncle Jimmy.

Uncle Jimmy died from complications related to being HIV+. I remember him well and I remember talking to him about what it meant to know you were going to die sooner than later.

I tell my son that he’ll figure out as he goes the difference between what he wants and what he needs. In the back of my mind I can hear Uncle Jimmy telling me he doesn’t want to die but that he isn’t scared. He wishes he had more time because there is more to do but feels good because the last part of his life he has been who he wants to be.

And then I wish for the hundredth time that Uncle Jimmy was still here because he said it better than I could. I wish he was here because there is more I could have learned from him.

What Do Google+, Pinterest & Twitter Have In Common?

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wallpaper - The ISLAND

What Do Google+, Pinterest & Twitter Have In Common?

My answer is that at one time or another I have been told that each one of those platforms is the key to success in social media. All you need to do is point, click and surf through the right cyber villages on the right platforms with the right influencers and you’ll become a social media superstar.

Reminds me of the guy who said that Ann Stacey would not only go to the prom but sleep with me provided I gave her a box of chocolates, flowers and solved the Hodge Conjecture.

I told that dude to stuff it and said I would do it my way and then he accused me of being mathematically illiterate. I just laughed at him and told him he was shlattered and said I would do it my way.

How Many Platforms Must You Be On?

In days of yore when I had more time, more energy and more hair I was far more willing to spend more time on all of these platforms because that is what it takes to make them work for you.

Time and energy that is.

If you don’t spend time building your platform you won’t see the sort of return you want. It is not a secret, this social media game isn’t any different than most things in life.

You run it like a marathon and take care of the little details and good things happen. Doesn’t mean you can’t hit it at a sprint and be successful, but it is harder to maintain that pace.

That middle schooler of mine and I have an ongoing conversation about his education and why we need to build foundations in various subjects because without those you can’t dig into the more sophisticated meat.

Hell, if you work on building the right foundation on your blog and you can start to really dig into the long form.

About Frequency and Length

Some topics can be discussed a million times and never get old. Ok, that is not true, they get old but things like how long should your posts be and how often should you produce them will never die because there are always bloggers that are interested in talking about it.

They work for both newer and more experienced bloggers because your perspective changes.

Last week I received notes from some people who unsubscribed because they said I update too frequently for them. It is not the first time I have heard this and I suspect it won’t be the last.

I don’t worry about it because the first rule of blogging for me is to have fun. If you don’t have fun you won’t last. The second rule is to write first for yourself and then for everyone else.

That is because if you are bored with your writing your readers will be too.

I figure that paring down the readership here means that we maintain a foundation that is more interested and more engaged, or at least that is my theory.

Value Equals Eyeballs

What that means is that if you produce good/great content that is of interest and value your readers will stick around. Over time some may leave, including some of the “long time reader” crew but that is ok.

Losing readers isn’t necessarily a sign of bad content. Sometimes it means they feel they have learned all they can from you and they move on.

It is nothing personal.

I suppose if I spent most of my energy trying to sell you things I might be more worried about how many readers come and go because the numbers have some import and significance, but that is not my gig.

And for what it is worth the sponsored post offers still come through on a regular basis. That usually generates enough income to pay for my blogging expenses and sometimes leaves me with money to do other things.

But even if I didn’t earn a dime I’d keep writing because it makes me happy and that is a good thing because blogging is too much work to do if you don’t like it.

What about you? What do you think?

Sometimes You Run Towards Danger

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Wissahickon Trail Whitemarsh runners II

The footsteps paused briefly at her doorway. She listened for a knock at the door and when that didn’t come she figured it was just another salesman and went back to getting dressed for her run.

Autumn was among her favorite seasons and the best time to run alongside of the lake.  The crisp air was invigorating and the bone chilling cold of winter was still to come. An early morning run followed by a shower and the perfect cup of coffee were a ritual she had started in college and maintained through her marriage and divorce.

Running was where she did her best thinking and the time when she almost always figured out the answers to things that troubled her.

It took less than ten minutes to get dressed, throw her hair in a ponytail and head out the door.

Five more minutes took her around the corner and down the street towards the lake. Somewhere during the moments when she waved at the ducks resting from their southern journey the footsteps that had paused at her doorway returned.

*****

He had been watching her for three months now, studying her routine and habits. He knew that she would be out for no less than 40 minutes and no longer than 63.

The cameras he had installed inside her home had helped him figure out that her post run routine took approximately 37 minutes and that at least 13 of those were spent in the bathroom.

That was twenty minutes less than her evening routine which included a long stint of brushing her hair and various other female grooming habits.

His notebooks contained many more details about what she did, how she did it and who she did it with. Those books and his methodical nature were a big part of the reason he had never been caught, that and twenty years of experience.

Twenty years of experience had taught him much and helped him refine his approach, manner as well as develop a certain style.

He had only killed his prey a handful of times.

*****

The first time had been a huge mistake.

She had tried to fool him. She had welcomed him, encouraged him to do what he had to do, not to her, but with her and he had believed her.

Of course he had tried to make her prove it, demanded she show him she could be trusted. She had smiled at him, kissed him and begged to have a chance to show him what she could do if her hands were free.

Youth, arrogance and ego had made him think it would work and he had freed her hands.

She climbed onto his lap, straddled him and pushed his head into her cleavage.

He remembered inhaling deeply, intoxicated by her scent and the amazing feeling of her legs wrapped around him.

And then came the pain of the scissors she jammed into his shoulder blade, the scream of rage and the surprise he felt when she didn’t let go.

He stood up, and she stayed with him, legs still wrapped around his body, her fists pounding his head and back.

That was her mistake and what saved him.

She hadn’t hit anything vital and he was still much bigger, stronger than she was.

He was angry so he punished her by being rough and when he was spent she was no more.

*****

Lesser men would have taken that experience and learned to never let their prey use their hands, no matter how they begged or what they promised. He wasn’t one of them.

He knew he had a larger destiny and that there were many ways to control people. It was part of why he studied them.

Some were shown pictures of family members and told a lack of cooperation would be bad.  When they didn’t believe him he would show them pictures of body parts and a chain saw.

The thought made him laugh because the pictures weren’t his work, but they were effective. They always did as he asked and played whatever part he wanted, but variety is the spice of life which is why he had learned how to make a certain cocktail that removed inhibitions.

It also removed basic muscle function.

They were aware of what was happening but unable to do anything about it. Sometimes it was fun to make a puppet to play with.

The cocktail had created a few issues for him. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could ask a doctor or pharmacist to teach you to make, so he had been forced to experiment. That had been rough, a couple of his guinea pigs never did wake up again, but that wasn’t the worst part.

Every time he was with one of his playmates he wanted to see their eyes and those early times had made them sleep through it.

*****

Time was wasting away and it wouldn’ be long before she would return.  It was time to start the preparations.

He began by going to the nightstand and pulled out the gun that lay inside. He was feeling saucy so this time around he thought he we would leave it there, disabled of course.

The thought of the look on her face when she realized it wasn’t working made him dance with glee.

He took out the tape, the rope and a couple of toys and waited where he knew she wouldn’t look. He would give her time to get in the shower and he if she fought she would have time to get her gun.

But there were other preparations to make, things to do so she couldn’t call for her help or run outside.

The chimes from the clock in the hallway made him look up five more minutes and play time would begin.

(Editor’s note: this originally ran here.)

Of Fate, Time Travel, Blogs & Business

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Mystical station

There was a moment when I knew I had reached the end of my rope and it didn’t matter if there was a knot tied in it because I had decided I was going to let go and see what happened when I fell.

It took place after I worried about the difference between a fool and a dreamer and led to me questioning whether there are coincidences or not.

There are no coincidences because what you see, hear and do are part of something greater than us. It is tied into something larger that can be described as both mystical and magical.

Don’t ask me to explain this because I can’t tell you how or why. All I can say is that I know because I have experienced it. I have seen it. I have lived it. I have been there and that is all the proof that I can provide.

It won’t be enough for some of you. It won’t be the kind of thing that you can accept because you can’t buy, touch or taste it. Actually that is not true, you can but only if you open your mind and let your soul seek its match.

I stared at those words and dared them to jump off of the page and bite me. Told the universe that I was dancing in the dark and reminded it we had come to an understanding.

A Test Of Faith, Will & Desire

There will come a day when someone will ask me again about why I do what I do and why I have done what I have done. They’ll ask me to explain to them behavior that seems to have crossed the border of stupid and foolish into insane and inexplicable and then I’ll show them the words below.

If you want to be a writer you have to do the work. You have to put in your time and figure out how to bend the words to your will. You have to tickle, squeeze, beg, slap, and bother them to change positions and assemble upon command. In between  it all you have to read like a man possessed.

You have to stick your nose in books and newspapers about anything and everything. You have to cultivate an over developed curiosity about the world and ask why. You have to be willing to offend and praise.

Tell that woman she is the most exquisite and phenomenal creature you have ever seen.

Compliment her on her eyes and intellect and then explain that you are a writer and you want her to sleep with you for your next book. When she tells you to go to hell explain that you write what you know and you want to know her in the biblical sense.

Do this enough time and someone will say yes, or so I once heard.

It may not make any sense at all to them. They may look at it and try to figure out the correlation and correspondence and I’ll shrug my shoulders.

In my perfect world they will not only see but understand and appreciate it. In my perfect world it all works but then again I live in a world where heroes fall and sometimes the bad guys win so who knows.

And should those questions come from my children I will tell them that when  you push hard the universe conspires to push with you.

I want them to understand that we can’t always see how things connect and why things happen as they do but we always know when we have worked hard and done what we could to make things work as we hope.

And they will know that sometimes you have to face rejection multiple times before you reach the place where go away turns into come here.

One Year Later

One year ago today I moved from the first hotel I stayed in Texas into another. It was planned in advance. I hadn’t expected to stay at the first hotel for more than a few days.

It was just long enough to catch my breath and check out some places that were better suited for an extended stay. So I found the next place, moved my stuff in and took my last day of vacation to drive the route between the hotel and the new office.

Turned off the GPS and just drove for a while and then headed back to the hotel and picked out a tie and my black suit. I remember going to sleep that night wondering what sort of adventure I had started.

I don’t I could have imagined what came next next and all that happened in the year that followed.

One year later everything is different and this is just the beginning.