We Need a New Water Cooler

Now that Twitter has removed a feature they claim only 2% of their users were using (and which nearly everyone I follow has been complaining about, which I guess means we ARE that 2%), something has become clear:

We need a new water cooler.

Twitter is often described as a "virtual water cooler," serving as a gathering place for people who work remotely. It's where we who don't have officemates (or who don't care to speak with the same 10 people all week long) go to bounce ideas off people half a world away, in real time, with minimal obligation or investment of attention.

But when the service terminates one of its own best reasons for existing -- the ability to stumble across other users via "fragmented conversations" (a functionality, it should be stressed, that THE USERS THEMSELVES invented) -- it becomes clear that Twitter is less concerned with serving the needs of its core users than it is with appealing to the masses. (After all, the masses bring the money; the 2% do not.)

And when the service then schedules planned downtime at noon PST on a Wednesday, those of us who rely on it for our daily conversation stream realize it's time to create a backup plan.

You wouldn't keep every document you own on one hard drive, thus stranding yourself if it crashes. So why are the bulk of our conversations contained within one service?

Seduce me, Facebook. Dazzle me, Plurk. Rise from the dead, Jaiku, and provide for us a valid alternative to the service that no one wanted until everyone had to have it.

Image by dennis.

Your Customer Is Not Your Problem

Two very different experiences this past week have taught me a lot about the value of positive customer service -- and the need to create a workplace environment that encourages and sustains it.

When Good Road Signs Go Bad

A week ago, I noticed that the five-way stoplight at the Forward and Murray Avenues intersection of Pittsburgh's Squirrel Hill neighborhood was broken. One of the light's cycles -- the side that faces traffic coming off the I-376 exit -- was lasting at least 2-3 times longer than it normally does. This is odd because that's usually NOT a high-traffic approach; it also extends the wait time for those on Murray Avenue, which results in 8-block traffic jams during rush hour.

So I contacted PennDOT, informed them of the problem (via email form), and someone wrote me back within a day to explain that traffic lights are the concern of the municipality, rather than the state. They also said they'd forward my email to the Pittsburgh traffic office -- which, I'll admit, is where I thought this story would end.

Today, I received the following email from Amanda Broadwater, P.E., Municipal Traffic Engineer for the City of Pittsburgh's Department of Public Works - Bureau of Transportation and Engineering:

Dear Mr. Kownacki,

Within the State of Pennsylvania, traffic signals are the jurisdiction of the City. Therefore, the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation forwarded your comment to us regarding the intersection of Forward and Murray in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood.

The City of Pittsburgh has identified [that] loop detectors are malfunctioning at the intersection. This type of problem happens often during wet weather. When this occurs, the maximum time allotted to the approach with the bad loop is displayed during each cycle, rather than the green time being traffic responsive. Obviously this creates greater delays on the other approaches of the intersection.

The electricians will be back on site today to try and remedy the problem. However, it may be necessary to completely replace the loop detectors. If this is the case, a timing change will be needed to ease congestion during preparation of the work. If a timing change is needed, it should be in place by mid week.

I wanted to highlight Amanda's response for two reasons:

* What speedy turnaround time from a pair of agencies that probably receives dozens (if not hundreds) of similar reports every day.

* What a thorough and understandable explanation! I would have expected a form letter saying "thanks, we'll get to it." Instead, Amanda went to the trouble of explaining the issue to me in layman's terms and then suggested a date by which the work should be completed.

On the Other Hand...

Last week, I stopped at a Wendy's just off the Hazleton, PA, exit on I-80. I've been to this Wendy's half a dozen times over the past year, because that exit is a regular pit stop on my business trips between Pittsburgh and Connecticut.

This time, I was one of the only customers in the place, and the staff of 5 or 6 seemed frustrated. Maybe it was because I was disrupting their side work, or because of something their manager may have said moments earlier. Maybe they were just having a bad day.

But when the kid gave me my order and I said "Thanks," and he just grunted at me with the body language that let me know I was his problem, not his customer, it clarified two things for me:

* There's a reason front-end workers in fast food and retail only get paid a minimum wage, and

* I need to stop eating at the Wendy's in Hazleton.

Conversely, although I disagree with their politics, I enjoy the experience of ordering food at Chick-fil-a. Why? Because their employees (at least in Pittsburgh's Waterfront location) are perpetually in good moods. Not the kind of fake smile most employee handbooks insist their cashiers sport, but the kind of jovial attitude that lets me know they enjoy working there -- and that they're happy I'm spending my money with them.

Like PennDOT and Pittsburgh's Department of Public Works, I'm not Chick-fil-a's problem. I'm their customer - and they'd like me to stay that way.

Photo by lawgeek.

The Thankless Job of Being Ahead of the Curve

This week, the world was all abuzz about the mainstreaming of Twitter thanks to Ashton Kutcher & CNN, Oprah Winfrey, USA Today and countless other "names" who've taken up the habit of Twittering.

Of course, by "world," I mean the relatively self-obsessed cadre of regular Twitter users -- myself among them -- who thought social media was a pretty cool club until the stars showed up. Like the aesthetic suckerpunch that comes from seeing the captain of the football team wearing your favorite indie band's t-shirt, the mainstreaming of any subculture is a tragedy for those who were there first. In one seemingly innocuous act, whatever exclusivity there was that bound you all together is now eroded. It's like your girlfriend taking a sudden interest in Star Trek -- or your mom using Facebook.

You know who wants your mom to be on Facebook? The people who create the service and the people who profit from the service.

You know who doesn't want your mom to be on Facebook? The people who use the service -- or, at least, the ones who used it enough to make it useful to your mom in the first place.

Being Useful Is the Fastest Way to Die

In order for any business or service "succeed" -- social media included -- it has to go mainstream. This means it has to be considered useful (or at least interesting) by the masses. But since "the masses" tend to be less interesting than the individuals who comprise them, when something does generate a wide appeal, it tends to do so at the expense of the individuals who partly defined themselves through it. And as the originators of a subculture leave, they take something with them: the originality, eccentricity or unconventional wisdom that made that subculture worth noticing to begin with.

So now, as blogging, podcasting and social networking become commonplace, the power centers behind these tools shifts away from the geeks who'd started them and becomes concentrated within the same media conglomerates for which these tools were originally conceived as an antidote. (This is not unlike veteran political skewer Al Franken eventually being absorbed into Congress.)

How Many Coonskin Caps Is One Fail Whale Worth?

What we've been seeing this week is the lamentation of hardcore Twitter users who've realized that their much-maligned (and yet, paradoxically, much-loved) service may be on the brink of becoming mainstream -- and, simultaneously, irrelevant.

If all these Twitter pioneers sound bitter, it's because they realize society is now waiting for them to pull up their stakes and migrate away from Twitter, on toward some other as-yet undiscovered social media country... that can be colonized and mined for profit, by others, in another 2 or 3 years.

Meanwhile, any book written decades from now about the success of Twitter will almost surely mention Ashton Kutcher's name, but it probably won't mention yours -- even though you were there first.

Image (taken along the Oregon Trail) by Fokket.

You're Not Worth My Time

It's widely believed that our attention spans are rapidly eroding. MTV, the Internet, multitasking or globalization may be to blame, but regardless of the source, everyone seems to think that nobody pays attention to anything anymore.

But why should we?

Online, people skim webpages for relevant information. When they find something they're passionate about, they'll devour endless amounts of related material across multiple media platforms. Otherwise, they zip through the bare basics -- enough to wrap their heads around what everything may mean -- and then they move on to something new.

The key word there is "passionate." Not everyone is passionate about everything. Some topics are more alluring than others, and some purveyors of information do a better job of hooking an audience than others.

The real problem? It's getting harder to make a living by being mediocre.

Gatekeepers Gone Wild

Long ago, the public was content to have their media handed down to them by OTHER PEOPLE who decided what information was worth their time. Today, the means of distribution (and production) have been disrupted to the extent that anyone can engage with any type of media at any time and in any format (give or take), which means the gatekeepers are dead.

And they're pissed.

The gatekeepers believe that some media and information is more important (or of a higher quality) than others, and they want to "save you" from wasting your time on the inferior and impractical. But modern audiences have realized that the critics, agents and hitmakers don't speak for everyone, primarily because they don't UNDERSTAND everyone -- and so we no longer trust anyone who attempts to tell us what we SHOULD be embracing.

Beyond that, there's the issue of sheer quantity. A new piece of media isn't competing against dozens of distractions anymore; it's competing with the sum total of all human knowledge and experience, most of which is available at the click of a button.

Given all of this, how can anyone expect that 21st Century digital boys and girls would voluntarily spend ANY time reading / watching / listening to something they personally consider to be uninteresting?

This Blog Post Is Already Too Long

Yes, I understand the elite's self-aggrandizing concern that allowing the public to educate and entertain itself is akin to letting them overdose on junk food, junk media and junk lifestyles. But that's a cynical defense: just because something is necessary, important or vital, that's no excuse for it to be achingly boring.

So next time you're tempted to lament that "no one pays attention" to you, buck up: people are obviously paying attention to *something* out there, and there's no reason that something can't be you.

Get interesting.

(And don't tell me fables like "reading is dead;" it isn't.)

Image by moriza.

If YOU'RE Not the Boss of Me... Who Is?

Last week, blogger Joyce Dierschke asked a not-quite hypothetical question: Do you censor yourself online? Her example, of whether or not she should have re-posted a link to a (biased) political video that she personally found amusing, encapsulates a question we all ask ourselves on a regular basis:

When I'm online, am I allowed to be me?

The answers to the question are (if you ask me) far too complicated, because they can only be revealed by first determining who you are AND what you believe.

Some Things to Consider About Who "You" Are:

Are you a person or an employee?

Are you a brand or an individual?

Are you more concerned about being authentic or about getting paying work?

If a potential client decided they didn't want to work with you because of something you said or did online -- essentially, because of who you are (and the judgment they believe you display) -- would you regret the action in question?

Are you using the internet for communication or self-promotion?

Is your belief system permanent, or does it evolve over time?

Would the person you are today be embarrassed or ashamed of anything you did 10, 5 or even 2 years ago?

Are you steadily advancing toward a specific goal, or are you exploring for the sake of experience?

Do you expect greater integrity from others than you do from yourself?

Does transparency trump ethics?

Forget Big Brother -- EVERYONE'S Watching

Every decision we make online is a personal decision, undertaken privately (or so it seems) yet available publicly to anyone who knows how to look for it. Classic concepts of privacy, identity and "the self" are in flux now due to the web's multiple layers of "personal branding" and anonymity. And while Jonah may have believed that God could see him even when he was inside the whale, Jonah also never had to deal with recruiters scouring his friends' Facebook accounts for all his potentially incriminating kegstand photos.

So before you start censoring (or uncensoring) yourself online, perhaps you should first figure out who YOU are... and who you answer to.

Image by amanky.

I'm a Fag

Not really, but that's beside the point, because that title was decided for me last week. [NOTE: Update at the end of this post.]

I was walking the two blocks from my apartment to the grocery store when two of the neighborhood kids -- girls between the ages of 8 and 12, I'd guess -- noticed that I was:

* wearing a light red (to them, pink) hoodie,
* carrying a recyclable grocery bag (to them, a purse) over my shoulder, and
* bouncing when I walk (which is a happy family trait)

Thus, in their eyes, I was a fag. And they let me know it.

On my way home, the older girl called out to me, and when I looked over, she -- in all the slow-motion magnitude that cinematographers use to signify a watershed moment in one's life -- flipped me off.

I decided to shrug it off, since kids are kids. But I filed it away, knowing that it would boomerang back around again, since kids are also pack animals. And it did.

Yesterday, I was walking Rufus and a gaggle of neighborhood kids -- all of them white and lower-middle-class -- were playing one someone's lawn. When I walked past, they let me know my new name ("Fag Peter") and hurled insults at me and my dog for a full two blocks, loud enough that I (and, certainly, anyone else in the neighborhood) could hear quite clearly. Again, I chose to ingore it, but it does pose a number of interesting problems:

* I now brace myself every time I leave my house, expecting to be venomously insulted by children.

* Since these kids likely know where I live (and what I drive), property damage or vandalism is not out of the question.

* Presuming that everyone else on the block heard these insults and has thus far decided to say nothing about it, I presume they don't mind the neighborhood kids slurring anyone else who walks through.

I'm Wondering How Best to Handle This

If we were all kids (or adults), I could react in an appropriate way (fistfights, reasoned discourse or litigation). If I was a kid and they were adults, I could tell my parents and get the police involved.

But as an adult being harassed by children, my options seem starkly limited. As mentioned above, their parents and neighbors don't seem to think that insulting someone is a reprimandable offense. And even if I did approach their parents, I suspect one of the following things would happen:

* It would let the kids know they were getting to me, thus fueling their desire to further harass me

* It might get the kids in trouble, thus legitimizing their anger toward me, or

* The parents might not see anything wrong with it, and accuse me of either provoking the kids or otherwise causing a needless problem.

As I See It, I Have Four Options:

* Walk Rufus on other streets, and avoid my own neighboring block at all costs (thus living as a prisoner in my own neighborhood)

* Walk everywhere with Ann (which might at least momentarily confuse the kids long enough to Google the term "fag hag")

* Confront their parents, or

* Confront the kids

Also, I should point one bit of clarification:

* Although I'm not gay, it's not the "fag" insult that bothers me. They could just as easily (and nonsensically) be calling me a cripple or a nigger. What frustrates me is that these kids are evidently growing up in a neighborhood where judging someone based on outward appearances, and then slurring them in the streets, isn't deterred.

Granted, I'm sure each of these kids will learn a lesson someday, when they display their prejudices against someone their own age -- or, as adults, against someone who doesn't mind beating the shit out of them -- but for now, I feel unnecessarily cast as the moral protagonist in some afterschool special, in which I know have to reach deep inside and find some pearl of wisdom that will make this all worthwhile for everyone involved, when really I just want to buy groceries and walk my dog in the neighborhood where I'm paying to live.

Thoughts?

3:21 PM UPDATE: While walking Rufus this afternoon, I passed by the homes where some of the kids live, and two of their parents were at work (on laptops) on their porch. I introduced myself and explained the situation to them, and we had a fruitful (I think) discussion about it.

They were upset, apologetic and, I think, embarrassed that any of this happened. One of the moms admitted that she'd heard the kids yelling something yesterday, but since their voices all blend together when they're in a pack, she couldn't make out what they were saying. They each said they'd talk with their kids, both individually and as a group, because they said their kids know that kind of behavior is wrong and they want to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Here's hoping this works out, and that we can all move forward as a neighborhood, rather than seeing an escalation in petty insults.

Loyalty vs. Community

I'm a tech slut.

I was just trying to post a link to Twitter that needed to be shortened. In the past, I would have used TinyURL, but since I discovered Tweetburner, I've been reluctant to go back. Tweetburner lets me see how many times a shortened URL link has been clicked, so it's endlessly more useful than the services that *just* shorten links.

But Tweetburner was down.

So I considered crawling back to TinyURL, until I remembered a service called bit.ly, that does the same thing as Tweetburner AND lets me actually see WHERE my clicks are coming from.

Score!

So now I've opened an account on bit.ly, and I'll probably never go back to Tweetburner.

Why? Because bit.ly is better and its URL is shorter.

Thus, I'm a tech slut. I don't stick with the services that work for me; I migrate to the services that are working RIGHT NOW, and I'll stay with them until they break. Then I'll site-hop again.

And yet...

Twitter itself used to break on an hourly basis, and the bulk of its users stuck with it -- me included. This, despite the fact that there were numerous BETTER services out there (Pownce, Jaiku, Plurk, etc.).

Why did we all stay with Twitter when it was unreliable and nearly useless, and yet I'm able to jump ship from Tweetburner without looking back EVEN THOUGH IT'S ONLY GONE DOWN ONCE?

Because Tweetburner isn't a community, it's a service. It's a tool I use privately to improve my public communications.

Twitter *is* a community. The service itself may break all the time (thankfully, it no longer does), but that alone isn't enough to force the bulk of its users to migrate away.

Which makes me wonder...

What's the breaking point at which a community will abandon a service that unites it?

Photo by reallyboring.

Screw the Latte; Where Are the Hand Towels?

I was at a Starbucks last night, overhearing the barista (who may have been an assistant manager) loudly discussing her method for getting into the flow of the workday. She was lamenting the ways customers can then derail her flow when they mention pesky needs like, "Oh, the washroom is out of hand towels." As she explained, when she's in "the zone," the customers need to wipe their hands on their pants and stay out of her way.

But here's what's funny about that: I don't care how well-managed or slickly-operated a cafe appears to be on the front end; if the back end is broken, it ruins my experience. And if you, as a cafe manager, can't be bothered to ensure that your customers have (for example) a pleasant washroom experience, then no amount of effort expended on the front-end facade will make up for the back-end derailment of THEIR "zone."

Generalized moral of the story: are YOU focusing on the right priorities to ensure YOUR audience is having a great experience, or are you mismanaging your time and effort, leaving your customers with shoddy memories and chapped hands?

Post-PodCamp Pittsburgh 3: 5 Ways to Gauge an Event's Success

First off, thanks to everyone who attended PodCamp Pittsburgh 3 this past weekend. Although we haven't tallied the final check-in numbers yet, all practical indications (like perpetually running out of food) point to this being our largest and most well-attended event yet. (Either that, or everyone got a free tapeworm in their swag bags...)

Also, as one of the event's primary organizers, I can never thank my fellow organizers enough. I know how much work went into planning PCPGH3, and even though things never run 100% smoothly at any event -- much less one involving technology -- I'm exceedingly proud of how well things came together this year. Everyone did a great job and I'll be very happy to work with all of you again next year... after we all hibernate for a few months.

However...

After throwing a huge event, I think there's a temptation on the part of the organizers to pat themselves on the back and say, "well done." But when it comes to social media events like PCPGH3, we won't *really* know how well we did at organizing the event until several months from now, because the long-term impact of education-based events like this can't be measured immediately. We have to see what people DO with the information they learned here.

So, in the meantime, here are 5 Ways I'll Be Gauging the Success of PCPGH3:

1. Attendance -- Although we had our largest number ever of pre-registered attendees, we'll need to tally the final head count before we know if our active numbers are actually increasing or remaining stable. The good news is, I didn't recognize about half of this year's attendees, which means we're definitely bringing NEW people in. (Also, weather plays a factor in attendance, so don't judge a summer event straight-up against a winter event, etc.)

2. Press Coverage -- If your event is a success in the eyes of the attendees, they'll talk about it afterward -- in our case, via blogs, Flickr, Twitter, etc. The more we see, the more we'll know that the PCPGH3 experience was share-worthy, and that's always a good thing.

3. Who Follows Up? -- We're holding a smaller, informal gathering on Wednesday, November 19 @ 7 PM at the Firehouse Lounge in the Strip District. Our goal is to support the conversation (and the community) that coalesces every year at PCPGH, but then seems to recede as the months intervene between events. Knowing that people want to keep the discussion (and the activity) alive beyond an annual clip is a good indicator that the ideas they encountered at PCPGH3 have traction.

4. Who Takes Action? -- Since PCPGH is an event designed to help people learn more about creating web media, it follows that we like to see our attendees creating newer, better things all the time. The long-standing content creators here in town won't be fading out anytime soon, but for the dozens of attendees who don't yet blog or podcast, who among them will start experimenting and reaching out for help when they need it?

(One great way to stay involved is to join the newly-created OMGPittsburgh blog, launched for us by Bostonian weekend-expat Chris Brogan live at PCPGH3.)

5. Who (or What) Will Become Next Year's Success Story? -- A year ago, none of our attendees had been a finalist for major web awards like the Bloggies or the Yahoo Video Awards, but this year, that (twice) changed. So did the idea that you can't invent a new word and have the public take notice (bacn, anyone?).

So will someone else take the lessons they learned (and the relationships they built) at PodCamp Pittsburgh 3 and use them to build the next killer app, the next red-hot web series or blog, or even expand their business? If they do, then the concept of PodCamp Pittsburgh as a reliable incubator of game-changing ideas will live on.

How do YOU think we did at PodCamp Pittsburgh 3?

Photo by Locobone, who would have made this available under Creative Commons License if he'd thought about it... ;)

An Audience Without A Reason to Care Is Just a Bunch of People That You Have to Clean Up After

Every three months, downtown Pittsburgh's art galleries unite for a free Friday Night gallery crawl. All the spaces are open to the public, the arts organizations mount new works and performances, and there's free food and drink for everyone who attends.

As you might imagine, people usually show up in droves for these events. And then, afterward, almost none of them come back. (At least, not until the next free event.)

Why?

Because just getting an audience in the door once isn't enough to make them want to come back on their own. You have to make the effort to get their attention, yes, but you also have to dazzle them while they're in your space AND give them a means to stay involved even after they've left.

And all of that requires a lot more effort than just handing them a mailing list.

The Fallacy of Eyeballs

At concerts, all bands love to leave mailing list sign-up sheets around the merch table. Mailing lists are useful, but getting people to admit that they want to hear more about you is only one step toward RETAINING that audience; it has nothing to do with GROWING an audience in the first place.

If all a band did was play four shows a year and then hound their mailing list to buy a CD every week, they'd have the support of very few people. So why would an arts organization -- or YOUR company -- be any different?

Give People Handles

The takeaway is the key. A band sells (or gives away) copies of its CD. Their fans play that CD for other people, and their interest in the band spreads. People start talking about that band and developing an emotional or intellectual alliance with the band's style, content and point of view.

Being a fan of the band becomes an active part of each fan's daily culture, and it becomes a natural act to share their passion for that band with others.

The organizations involved in Pittsburgh's quarterly Gallery Crawls can hand out postcards, fliers and mailing lists all they want, but they're not handing out anything people can actually take away and share. Nobody gives their friend a flier, but they will give them a CD.

So what can artists or organizations provide that would be a "CD equivalent"?

What could someone take away from your business / site that would enable them to tell another person about you, and illustrate WHY they think you're so interesting and worth getting excited about?

You Don't Know a Thing About Me

The other major stumbling block most of the Gallery Crawl organizers face is that, for many attendees, this will be the first (and only) time they'll ever walk through a gallery's or theater's doors. If they don't understand what that space is about, what kind of work it normally produces, and why its work actually matters (not to the world at large but to them, the individual visitor), they won't have a reason to come back because they won't even know why they should.

How many websites do you visit where you can't immediately figure out WHY it exists? Did the site designers provide you with sufficient answers on the About page? (Did the site designers provide an About page at all?) If not, was the site still sufficiently interesting that you cared enough to explore it on your own, or did you press the "back" button and try to find something else more obviously rewarding?

Artists face this challenge every day, and yet so few of them bother to make themselves interesting AND easily explainable. The same conundrum applies to social media. If I visit your site or download your podcast and I can't immediately understand who you are and why you're doing what you do, do you really expect me to spend my own valuable time figuring out why you matter?

If you or your organization / site / company is able to generate occasional bursts of traffic, but you never seem to actually RETAIN it, ask yourself what it is that you're NOT doing to dazzle / engage / explain yourself to them before they leave. Then, make every effort to solve that problem. Because if you don't, all you end up with are some half-eaten cheese plates and a few scribbled names on a mailing list, and neither of those are going to pay your bills.

Photo by Pete Lambert

10 Ways to Be a Social Media Asshole

You may have heard that social media is "all about the conversation." That may be true in some cases, but not all. In fact, for some people, social media is simply about finding new and interesting ways to be an asshole - it's Machiavelli's "The Prince," as applied to text boxes.

If you're finding it difficult to irritate people on a regular basis, here are ten tips you can follow to aggravate even more people - many of them strangers!

1. Insult people loudly and publicly. Bonus points if you don't know the person, but you do know enough to know that he / she / they must be horribly, horribly wrong. This will endear you to everyone else who shares your opinion, and will make you seem like a man / woman / composite persona that's not to be fucked with.

2. Leave scathing comments in public places. Nothing says "I've seriously considered your work / opinion and respectfully disagree" like personal attacks injected into one's thoughtstream.

3. Always be anonymous. Never say with public faces what's best typed hidden in private places.

4. Always ignore grammar / spelling / punctuation. Clear and legible disagreements are best left in the classroom. As a person with unbridled truth to share, you're free of the rules of class.

5. Steal other people's work. Creative Commons licenses never hold up in court, because Americans know that anything available to the public is fair game. If they didn't want you to take credit for their work, they wouldn't have made it public in the first place.

6. Talk endlessly about yourself. In a world of nearly 7 billion people, nothing is as interesting as you. Always find a way to turn topical conversations into conversations about you - especially when you don't know what people are talking about in the first place. (One great way to do this is to lead off with "Speaking of ___," and then immediately change the subject to that head cold you're not quite over.)

7. Namedrop like it's your job. Because it is. That's because people may not remember you, especially if what you're doing is redundant or unremarkable -- like, say, being a "social media expert" or "communications guru"-- but they'll damn sure remember who you had lunch with last week. (And by "had lunch," it's okay if you forget to add, "in the vicinity of," or "at the same conference as." Because even if you *didn't* technically "have lunch" with Seth Godin, he undoubtedly follows you on Twitter, so he might as well have been at your table when the server girl spilled all that water on Andrew Baron [at the next table].)

8. Pontificate loudly about why all new ideas will fail (or PHALE). And then, if they don't, take credit for their success by insisting that the creators of said idea must have taken your warnings seriously and changed their business plan.

9. Blame designers for your inability to understand their services. Because if it doesn't work exactly like Google, Flickr, MySpace or anything else you already know, it's new, and new design is bad and likely to fail (see above).

10. Make all private emails and messages public. Because if so-and-so had really meant it when they direct messaged you in confidence, or asked you to sign that non-disclosure agreement, they wouldn't have used the internet for such sensitive communications. As mentioned previously, if it's on the web -- even behind someone else's password-protected intranet firewall -- it's fair game. (The people have a right to know.)

Do you have a favorite approach that I've overlooked?

Who Are You Trying to Impress?

Last night, I saw Harmony Korine's Mister Lonely at the Harris Theater. Afterward, Pittsburgh Filmmakers and the Pittsburgh Downtown Partnership offered free food and drink, intended to spark a post-film discussion among the strangers in attendance. (This is supposed to be a good thing.)

Unfortunately, strangers, bound solely by the shared experience of having just seen the same movie, have nothing else in common yet (that they know of). Result? Out comes the posturing, the pomposity and the need to impress one another with armchair film school dissections of "symbols" and "meaning." (I nearly choked on my stuffed grape leaf -- catered by the inimitable Affogato -- when someone posed the [rhetorical?] question: "Was the pastoral violated?")

In the end, I doubt any friendships were forged from this discussion, but I suspect more than a few people went home worrying, "Did everybody else think I was smart enough?"

Anatomy of a Conversation

When we're thrown together in a pseudo-social situation, the quaint tradition of "breaking the ice" often gives way to the more aggressive method of preening like alpha males / females, meant to establish a social hierarchy we can all understand (and find -- or reject -- our place in).

In every social situation, there seems to be at least one of the following:

* The conversation driver
* The friends of the conversation driver
* The people who WANT to be friends with the conversation driver
* The people who DISAGREE with the conversation driver
* The dropouts who eat the free food and make snide comments in the background

(Hint: this last group is almost always the most interesting group, due possibly to the fact that they're coincidentally the most impossible to actually meet.)

This conversation rarely has the opportunity to become inclusive because it automatically becomes a pitched battle between two (or more) speakers vying to establish that their opinion is the "right" one (at least for the duration of this situation).

If that's the case, why bother speaking at all, if the only reason to get involved is to try and out-shout the opposition? Wouldn't a lot more be accomplished -- and more bonds between conversationalists be created -- if we all agreed that the perfunctory building of these walls was a waste of time?

Your Comfortability Makes Me Uncomfortable

Not everyone is so eager to let their wall down. Some people enjoy that distance because it keeps them from getting too attached, or seeming like they're too interested, or too available. They need to impress others before they can take their wall down, and convince themselves that they have "the upper hand" in the conversation.

If you see this type of behavior encroaching on your social interactions, whether online or in person, why not try one of the following:

* Agree to Disagree. Table the contentious issue for the moment, and then actively find a point on which each side can agree. Knowing that each side's disagreement stems from a common starting point can reduce the sense of "The Other" that often fuels the need to establish conversational dominance, and instead replaces it with a simple curiosity about how each side arrived where it is now.

* Agree... For Now. Maybe you still disagree with the other person(s), but you're astute enough to realize that endlessly arguing about details isn't going to move the conversation forward to a deeper, more engaging state. So agree with the other side, for now. Admit that you may not have all the facts, or that the other person might (gasp) actually be "right." A concession isn't a defeat; it's simply a way to pause the invective, which can disarm a conversational "opponent" and provide an opportunity to move the conversation ahead to new topics.

(PS: If you temporarily agree with someone else, you owe it to yourself to follow up afterward and see if their argument actually does hold water. You may be surprised to find it does.)

* Volunteer to Be the Underdog. Often, contentious conversations are all about establishing a social pecking order. The other side doesn't even care if they're right or wrong, so much as they desire to be seen as the dominant voice in the conversation. In that case, let them be it. NOT needing to appear "perfect" can immediately nullify the race to build artifice, and win you some subconscious respect in the process. Suddenly, the race to build higher walls is replaced by the race to dig deeper moats, inviting more and more people to get closer, and closing the gap of The Other that makes getting to meet new people -- and caring about them -- so damn hard in the first place.

This doesn't mean you need to divulge a laundry list of All The Horrible Shit That's Ever Happened to You. No one loves a self-flagellator, but everyone appreciates a person who can honorably assess his/her own shortcomings, even as they're content in their strengths. That's called "being a real person," and it's a much better way to create a meaningful conversation than endless ideological pissing contests.

(And, for the record: no, the pastoral was not disturbed, because there was no pastoral in the first place. But Samantha Morton does one hell of a good American accent, and those stuffed grape leaves were fabulous. I would have mentioned that during the post-film discussion, but I was too busy eating the free food and making snide comments in the background.)

Spiders, Starfish and Central Command

Bureaucratic as it may be, a certain truth made itself apparent to me today:

When working with large groups of people, make sure everyone is on the same page.

All for One and One for All

The Spider and the Starfish is a book that touts the adaptability of "leaderless organizations." It was a big success because people love the idea that they can work freely, without having to answer to 100 bosses.

Of course, they still have to answer to at least one...

Even a Starfish Has a Head (Sort Of)

Here in Pittsburgh, several dozen of us are working to bring PodCamp Pittsburgh 3 to life in October. While I love seeing so many passionate people dedicated to the same common goal, the downside is, sometimes we move too fast for our own good.

Today, we launched registration for the event... only for one of our co-organizers to notice that we hadn't actually worked out one of the financial details. As such, we had to halt all registration until that detail is worked out -- a situation that may require getting up to 10 people together in the same room (or on the same conference call), just to make sure something we *think* we all agree on is something we actually do agree on.

So, ironically, having *more* volunteers than we've ever had before is actually slowing down the entire planning process because we've now realized we don't have those top-down approval procedures in place. Of course, once we do, life gets better -- so, in light of that concept, here are...

3 Tips for Working with LOTS of People

1) Know Who's in Charge of Whom.

Sooner or later, everyone has to answer to someone. Knowing who you have to answer to, and procuring their approval (or working out any discrepancies) early on, saves you the worry of wondering if you're on the right track.

2) Talk Regularly.

There's nothing more frustrating (for both sides) than nearing completion on a project, only to find out that you're doing it wrong. If you need approval, get it. If you have questions, ask them. Don't presume that something being "almost done" is a license to do it incorrectly.

Likewise, don't keep people waiting for your approval. Delegation only works when the people expected to carry out the work know that they actually *can*.

3) Keep it Simple.

No one needs to open their inbox and find 100 emails, only 90 of which actually pertain to them. If you need approval on a dozen aspects of your project, sum them up in one email or phone call and direct it to the appropriate person(s).

Presumably, this means you'll need to work out the specifics of your project as early in the process as possible. The more actions that can be auto-approved (because they meet pre-approved standards), the faster that work can get done -- and the more time everyone saves.

Do you have any more tips that have worked for you in the past? Leave them in the comments below.

What Makes a Social Media "Expert"?

Chris Brogan has just announced he's devoting his next 100 posts to providing social media tips for the rest of us. Chris usually has good ideas and common sense insights, so he should be able to provide a useful lantern for those people still crawling around in the darkness.

Announcements like this do lead me to wonder, though:

What Really Defines Someone as an "Expert" in Social Media?

Consider that social media is a hodge-podge of:

* Content creation across multiple media (text, audio, images)

* Managing interpersonal communication across multiple platforms, and

* Engaging one's audience in meaningful ways...

... it could therefore be argued that "social media" is really just "(the new) basic communication."

Why be Spoon-Fed Common Sense?

There's nothing involved in social media that isn't already obvious to the average person. There's nothing awe-inspiring about aggregating followers, spreading a message or spurring individuals to action. We like to think there is but, truth be told, humans have been doing that since the Stone Age.

And, in that sense: what makes one of us more of an "expert" at communicating than others?

Is it the amount of MONEY a person makes from communicating?

Is it the size of one's LEGION of followers?

Is it the POWER one wields as a by-product of communicating?

A Disclaimer

By the way: this isn't an attack on Chris or anyone else. For example, I consider Chris Brogan to know more about communication than most people. In my estimation, he is a communication expert -- but what numbers validate that claim in black and white?

What are the metrics for being an "expert" at communicating?

iProng Magazine Launch (featuring Moi)

Bill Palmer's iProng Magazine celebrates its launch party today in LA. The mag, which is PDF only, focuses on all aspects of the social media culture, from tech and trends to content and community.

You can download a PDF version of the magazine here -- which includes my previous blog article on the similarities between punk rock and social media. Evidently, I'm a back-page columnist. Woot.

What Does Success Mean to You?

I've been creating Something to Be Desired for four years now. I consider us to be "successful" in that we've kept the show online and interesting despite numerous hurdles.

And yet, whenever someone asks me what my goals are... I realize I can't articulate them, because I haven't defined them for myself.

Things Are Changing

I've been having a lot of conversations lately with social media folks -- and reading a lot of blogs and Twitters -- that lead me to believe the bulk of the people in this space have a hard time defining what success means for them, and therefore understanding the steps they need to take in order to get there.

Last year, PodCamp Boston exceeded expectations because it had never been done. This year, although attendance was up, it was still about 50% of the registered total. Was that a "success"? It depends on whom you ask.

Most of the no-shows were people "outside the fishbowl" -- those interested parties who weren't yet creating content and therefore weren't 100% invested in having a conversation about it.

"How do we get those people involved?" was the question a lot of us have been asking for a long time, and there still aren't clear-cut answers.

Maybe that's because we're not demonstrating that social media is a "successful" investment of OUR time and resources yet, simply because so few of us know whether or not we ARE successful. It's hard to lead by example when you're not sure where you're headed.

What Constitutes Success For You?

Are you a creator? Does the thrill of making something from nothing give you an unequaled charge?

Are you a collaborator? Do you prefer working with others to make something greater than any of you could have done independently?

Are you seeking an audience? What kind of audience? Is it more important for you to have a wide, "mainstream" appeal in your work, or a smaller, highly-engaged readership / listenership / viewership?

Are you seeking investment? What kind of investment? How much money / resources? From whom? What would you do with it if you had it?

Are you seeking to make a living at what you're doing? To become profitable? What's your break-even point? Where will that money come from?

What do you want to be doing in a year? In three years?

Very few of us seem to know the answers to these questions, which therefore prevents us from being able to take the steps to accomplish them. As a result, I see a lot of rudderlessness throughout the medium. I see disinterest, worry, cynicism and frustration. (I should know - I'm the generator of a significant amount of it.)

So, if that's the case, why don't we refocus for a moment and ask ourselves, honestly: What does success mean to you?

And, to kick-start the conversation, I'll list my POV. To me, success would be:

* Being out of debt
* Making a comfortable living
* Having health insurance
* Working as a writer / director / producer
* Having STBD viewed by 10,000+ people per episode
* Earning enough money from STBD to pay the cast
* Seeing STBD become one of the top shows in modern media
* Collaborating with creative people from multiple fields
* Helping shepherd other people's ideas to fruition
* Investing in / growing other small businesses
* Being able to donate time / resources to charities
* Being able to travel

Yours?

Why Punk Rock *IS* the Blueprint for Social Media

I saw the documentary Punk's Not Dead at the Three Rivers Film Festival this week and it got me thinking about why punk is the model we social media creators SHOULD be following.

Major Similarities Between Punk and Social Media

Punk was a medium created by the disenfranchised youth who sought to rebel against the corruption and groupthought inherent in "the system."

Punk had a low barrier of entry -- most "musicians" had zero training or experience (or, often, talent), but their passion and presence is what made them noteworthy.

The punk scene relied on word-of-mouth, grassroots marketing and DIY production values.

Punks regularly refer to themselves as a family, bonded by a philosophy and shared experiences.

Punk, like social media, is primarily the playground of white men.

Major Differences Between Punk and Social Media

Social media requires more expensive equipment to create than punk rock does.

Social media relies upon digital distribution.

Social media can reach anyone, anywhere, at any time -- if they have a computer.

Social media is looking down the barrel of the "money vs. passion" argument much earlier, and much more publicly, than punk ever did.

About the Film

Punk's Not Dead is an insider's look at how and why punk has survived for 30 years. Director Susan Dynner grew up in DC during the birth of the punk scene and has been involved with it ever since. The interviews she conducted for the film mirror the kind of "passionate desperation" found in today's social media movement, and offer a LOT of correlations for our potential success.

Among them:

* Henry Rollins makes several great points about the hand-to-mouth lifestyle led by even the "top" bands. Everyone looked up to Black Flag as the epitome of punk success, but in reality, they were sleeping on fans' couches and floors and living out of their tour bus -- which, he insists, could never stop moving.

"We were like sharks," Rollins says. "If we stopped moving, we wouldn't eat."

* Ian MacKaye built the Dischord label from the ground up, based primarily on the reality that the mainstream recording industry saw no value (or marketability) in the punk scene. But instead of scheming to find ways to make the MSM notice them, the punks said "fuck it" and created their own labels to sustain their momentum.

(Dynner was on-hand at the 3RFF showing and, during the post-film Q&A, told stories about hanging out at Dischord in the early years, where she - and everyone else on-hand - taught themselves how to hand-package the records and ship them out, one by one.)

* To the people *in* the punk scene, the musicians were both larger-than-life and completely accessible. Casual fans could wander backstage and have a beer with Bad Religion or Sham 69 almost by accident. That kind of "peer" mentality involved the fans of the music in ways that MSM could never hope to achieve.

* Throughout the whole punk lifeline, the scene has consistently resembled a "family" or artists who distrust MSM intervention or any attempts to control or repackage their original intentions.

On the other hand, the nature of speaking truth to power, as punks often did, was seen as the most *mainstream* concept in the world -- far moreso than the antiseptic POV of the MSM.

* The seminal punk bands were (and still are) happy to play a room of 5 fans or 50. Numbers weren't the driving force; the need to be heard, and to meet new people who shared their POV, was.

* Again, from Rollins: "We were (metaphorically) standing outside, screaming [pantomimes a loud voice], but to the record labels, it was like [pantomimes tiny, muted voice]."

Until, of course, the "cool kids" noticed, and suddenly punk mutated into something marketable... but *ONLY* after the punk pioneers carved out their own (relative) success.

* To this day, bands like Subhuman, The Adicts and The U. K. Subs tour incessantly, sleeping in fans' houses and selling their own merch from tables and vans -- 30 years after they first took the stage.

Despite the fact that bands who have come along well after the forefathers started the scene are now enjoying exponential success, while the legends who lit the fire in the first place are still living hand-to-mouth, they carry on because they still derive so much pleasure from the endeavor that they couldn't imagine NOT doing it.

All of Which Makes Me Wonder...

Will social media have this kind of longevity?

Why are some of us so eager to model our work after MSM -- or to garner their attention in the first place -- rather than refining our specific brand or shade of originality?

Are modern media creators so passionate to have their voices heard that they're willing to push through all obstacles, sleep on floors and "tour" endlessly, just to ensure they're heard by the audience that's seeking them out?

What think you?

Social Media Gatekeeping (Or, Why I Won't Be Invited to San Francisco Anytime Soon)

Brace yourselves, folks: I'm about to depict, with an awkwardly high amount of geekery, exactly why there's a glass fence around the "social media" hierarchy, and why it's so tough to scale it.

In a nutshell, Eric Rice and I stumbled into a conversation last night on Twitter. The subject? Eric was musing about the seeming hypocrisy of every 'must-attend' social media event, in which people who aren't making any money in the medium still feel obliged to fly to an event to be part of some fictitious scene.

At one point, I mentioned that, since the web is built upon the democratized promise that physical location no longer matters, I shouldn't feel hamstrung by living in Pittsburgh as opposed to NYC / LA / SF. However, it's undeniable that "the action" still takes place in the major media centers -- which, if that's the case, essentially means that the liberating power of the web is a lie.

Meanwhile, Eric was Twittering with several other conversants, including Robert Scoble. Roundly recognized as an "A"-List blogger (a title he even affords himself on occasion), he and Rice are in roughly the same media sphere; I'm at least 2 to 3 layers out from there. Thus, they'll twitter back and forth freely, while I'm rarely involved in that echelon of discussion.

Scoble mentioned that he couldn't conduct his work anywhere else than San Francisco, because there aren't that many tech CEOs anywhere else. He also referred to the much-maligned "flyover states" quite genially, although he admitted there weren't many geeks in them; at least, not compared to SF.

However, when it came to Eric's point about "regional isolation" affecting social media, Scoble wasn't buying it:

@spin: you're full of it tonight. If someone wants to get "unisolated" just put "@scobleizer" in your Twitter message.

Hmm. So that's it? All these discussions I've had about the path to web success and here it was all along. (Who knew?)

It was equally interesting to see the following exchange betwixt them, first from Rice:

@scobleizer btw, none of this has anything to do with me, I'm raising hell on behalf of those with unheard voices. So we're clear on that

And Scoble's response:

@spin: I find it interesting that you are raising hell on behalf of people who REFUSE to join the conversation. Why won't they?

Hmm.

Not sure who's REFUSING to join the conversation here. In fact, I'd wager more that Scoble (and the other powers-that-be) see so much of the social media seascape, it's just hard for them to notice any ripples that aren't emanating from their own buoys.

Or, as I said in slightly less apologetic language:

*shrug* Being asked to "join the conversation" presumes there's a gatekeeper. Thanks, Emperor, but I have my own clothes.

Later, while surfing to Chris Brogan's blog, I saw his most recent post. It's a link to a video about Glenda Hyatt-Watson, known as the "left-thumb blogger" because... well, just watch the video. It's an inspiring story all its own -- and exactly why I felt the need to re-tweet it.

Which I did, thusly:

I'm sure this was widely twittered 12 hours ago, but @chrisbrogan 's post about @GlendaWH is truly mindblowing: http://tinyurl.com/225lyz

This post went out, like all others, into my twitstream, and I went back to work.

Moments later, Robert Scoble twittered the following:

@chrisbrogan's latest video rocks. http://tinyurl.com/225lyz

Anyone notice anything amusing in that tweet?

The TinyURL link is mine, created moments earlier, and copied and pasted by Scoble into his own post. Which, innocently enough, looks like he decided to post it out of the goodness of his own heart.

Which, to be honest, he may have.

And Lord knows I'm not due any back-patting for pointing Chris's post out. Odds are, Scoble would have discovered it anyway, sooner or later.

I just find it ironic that, after earlier wondering aloud about the poor, innocent people Eric Rice was coming to bat for -- those who "REFUSED" to join the conversation -- Scoble would have a golden opportunity to credit the messenger in this particular case, and instead choose to clip out the TinyURL and send it off as his own missive.

Full disclosure: I've blogged previously about the pitfalls of social media, including the lunacy of "fishbowl"-driven buzzwords involving use of the term "Scoble___," as in, "Scobleized." It's quite possible that such discussions have raised the hackles of the powers-that-be.

I also have a feeling Scoble's tweet probably brought 100x the attention to Chris's post as my tweet did, since Scoble's followed by far more people on Twitter than I am -- so, in the end, the message was served, and that's the important part.

(And no, I'm actually not upset about it; just highly entertained. Irony is its own best raison d'etre.

I'm also not delusional enough to believe I require credit in this situation. I didn't make the video, I'm not the subject of the video, and I'm not Chris Brogan.

I'm just a guy, smirking away, isolated in a flyover state.)

5 Reasons Social Media Makes Me Want to Claw YOUR Eyes Out

Once again, I must qualify this post with a disclaimer: I create social media. At times, what I create is quite good, and I enjoy the process. I also enjoy the community aspect of social media.

However.

There's a LOT of fluff and very little substance to social media (so far), and that extends to the way in which we frame our arguments. So, if at all possible, I'd be extremely pleased if I never had to hear the following statements again:

1. "___ is a rockstar."

Sooner or later, everyone who creates new media and impresses someone ELSE who creates new media is knighted on that other person's blog or Twitter as being "a rockstar."

Do you wonder why the idea of celebrity is dead? It's because a guy with a microphone in his attic is referred to as "a rockstar" by the 7 people who listen to him.

If the Sandwich Artist at your local Subway doesn't know who "___" is, that person is not a rockstar.

2. "Many people around the world are supporting ___ by doing ___ today."

In today's case, Beth Kanter (who does great and noble work, mind you) filled in the blanks with: "Many people around the world are supporting the Monks in Burma by wearing red t-shirts today."

Sorry folks, but supporting "X" means calling your senator, or volunteering with a charity, or taking to the streets in impassioned protest. It's not finding a red t-shirt in your laundry pile and walking to 7-11 for a Sprite.

Can we stop confusing the appearance of activity with activity itself?

3. "Scoble___"or "i___"

As the biggest rockstar of them all, it seems blogger Robert Scoble is capable of having nouns, verbs and adjectives ascribed to him. Robert may (or may not) be a nice guy, deserving of all the fanfare alloted him by his acolytes.

But whether he is or not is actually beside the point, which is (once again): if the person laying pickles on my veggie sub doesn't know who he is, I sincerely doubt they'll know if they've been "Scobleized" or not...

Likewise, every time you arbitrarily add an "i" in front of a common noun or verb, an angel falls screaming from heaven.

4. "The power of community..."

Yes, community is important. Yes, there is power in community. And yes, it's safe to say that very little in life has ever been accomplished without the combined efforts of multiple, dedicated people.

But if we who create social media keep deluding ourselves into believing that this phantom notion of "community" will somehow "save the day," we're sorely mistaken.

Community is fun. Community is free. Community is empowering and rewarding and comforting and enviable and safe. But community alone does not validate the existence of something when contrasted to The Bigger Picture. Community is a by-product or a means toward something successful, not an end unto itself.

Doubt me? Ask your audience to pay your rent this month.

Every month.

5. "I don't need to monetize ___ to justify it."

Yes. Yes you do.

If you're blogging, and thousands of people are reading, but you're not profiting from that, you're wasting your time.

If you're creating a podcast that has a rabid following and zero income, you're wasting your time.

If the creation of your podcast / blog / website / widget / etc. costs you even one penny more than it brings in, you're wasting your time.

I don't want to hear about how the "power of community" is justification enough. I don't want to hear about how "monetizing is missing the point." And I certainly don't want to hear ANYONE say, "I'm just going to tread water a little longer because I KNOW success is right around the corner."

Success doesn't find you; you find it. There are exceptions to that rule, but basing your financial, mental and emotional wellbeing on becoming an exception to a rule is possibly the least intelligent course of action you could take -- especially if the rule you're flouting is "make money to survive."

Until the vast majority of us who create social media, and who comprise the larger "community" associated with it, can get beyond the puppy love stage of attraction to this medium and begin producing content that both matters AND generates revenue, the fishbowl is in no danger of being assimilated.

Nor are we in danger of actually becoming rockstars...

Why Social Media Doesn't Matter (Yet)

I produce social media, both for fun (Something to Be Desired) and for a living. And I can say, even as one of the medium's biggest supporters, that it simply doesn't matter.

Yet.

Why? Because we, with rare exception, are not producing media that matters.

Yet.

Here's the paradox: given the financial, creative and time constraints imposed upon aspiring social media creators, most people do exactly what they've been told since their first writing lesson: write what you know.

This results in a rich tapestry of user-generated media about quirky content that small groups are passionate about. And yet, despite even the larger success stories, very few people are creating media that appeals to an audience outside the early-adopter tech / niche / geek fishbowl.

Why? Three reasons.

1. Who's Watching Me?

The largest audience for this kind of content IS the affluent, tech-obsessed population. This tends to exclude large segments of the populace by association. (Thus, why produce media for an audience that isn't there?)

2. Great Expectations

To produce something akin to "mainstream" media -- whether comedy, drama, news, education, etc. -- forces the potential audience to compare that independently-produced media with the slick, corporate-funded media presented to them every day, across multiple distribution platforms, for free.

This is not a comparison in which the average, pop culture-beholden consumer will find in favor of the indie, so why invest resources in attracting their attention in the first place?

Thus, based solely upon the two initial premises, the aspiring social media creator is faced with a choice: invest time and effort in becoming large WITHIN the fishbowl, and hope that niche appeal eventually translates to a scalable opportunity within the traditional corporate media structure...

... or, attempt to create something "populist" from the get-go, knowing that the odds of acceptance are diminished on both sides (from the culture AND the counter-culture, each of whom will see the creator as an half-compliant outsider).

3. No One (Including the Creators) Actually Cares

The other reason social media doesn't matter (yet) is because social media creators, with rare exception, fail to use the democratic potential of this medium to engage in MEANINGFUL conversation or incite ACTUAL change.

Take Alive in Baghdad. Everyone who's familiar with the series, who's watched a few episodes, or who knows creator Brian Conley personally, realizes that AiB is one of the landmark creations in social media's still-nascent history.

The premise of the series -- actual stories of Iraqi citizens, filmed by Iraqis and translated for the American (and world) public -- appeals directly to the "renegade" sensibilities of the social media culture. We all inherently recognize the risks Brian is taking and the potential for change that AiB provides. This makes Brian's tale the easiest to tell, the one that's most inspiring, and the comparison that's hardest to live up to.

It's also, apparently, almost impossible to sustain.

Why?

Because the social media audience (like the mainstream audience) doesn't want to involve itself in stories outside its own fishbowl. It doesn't want to tumble down the rabbit hole of world politics, or theology, or sociology. It doesn't want to risk taking actions that may be inconvenient or uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, if you post a Twitter about the new iPods, or mention an upcoming tech conference, or ask what people's favorite fonts are, you'll be overwhelmed with replies.

The fishbowl, it seems, is safe.

Will It Blend?

How do you reconcile:

* a medium built upon democratization,
* a culture steeped in consumerism, and
* a community comprised primarily of intelligent, independent and strongly opinionated -- yet ultimately insular, self-obsessed and apathetic -- individuals

with the possibility for this emerging medium to become relevant (and even catalytic) beyond its own borders?

I think those of us who've moved beyond the simple creation of social media and taken the time to foster its community need to ask ourselves a few questions:

* Why am I doing this?

* What constitutes "success" for me?

* What's IMPORTANT to me?

I fully expect that, for 90% of the social media population, the color choices among the new iPod Nanos ARE what's important to them. That's not their fault -- the fishbowl is a welcoming place, and their voices ring much louder within its walls than they would outside.

But, for the other 10% who can somehow sense that social media is capable of more than just generating record-setting Halo 3 sales numbers...

... or driving up demand for the iPhone...

... or defending the career of Britney Spears...

... surely there must be something more we can do?