New Look, Same Site

I recently spent an afternoon updating and editing my main site, The Introverted Writer.  The reason for this was because although the layout was pretty on the computer screen, the mobile version was horribly disjointed.  On a smartphone, my main site's homepage was a visual mess: content from single lines took up two lines, headings overlapped, and one could not really tell what the links were there for.

Who knew that our handy cellphones could cause such confusion regarding content!  I can only imagine how baffled a potential client must have felt while trying to peruse my (old design) main site on their cell.

So, I smoothed out some of the kinks by changing the homepage image and layout--which turned into hours of editing the entire site, background colors included.  I am happy to finally say that the new design works for me.  Thank you for sticking with me as I become more tech-friendly (now crossing my fingers that the updated layout remains reader- and smartphone-friendly).

See the aesthetic and content updates on my main site: 

www.theintrovertedwriter.com

Spring Fever

Spring is right around the corner, and I'm finding myself still gravitating towards the autumn we didn't really have last year.  Isn't that strange?  This past week, I re-found the colorful autumn leaves from this past winter, which I've blogged about here.  Those very leaves were placed inside some old hardbacks a few months ago, with the intention of displaying them once they were fully flattened and dried.  Yet, I had nearly forgotten about these natural beauties had it not been for my much belated yearning for autumn--a search for chilly weather and decaying leaves, a search for self within the natural world.

Who knew I was such a fall-leaf hoarder, with five of the aforementioned leaves stuck inside random pages of two vintage books?  (I guess you can say I'm a little scatterbrained right now, experiencing spring fever.)

Now these leaves adorn the corner of a small table that holds our printer--technology and the natural world in one small space: a visual conundrum.  Who knew this could be a subtle contradictory-yet-revelatory act, as in the nature vs. technology divide?  Some assert that the appreciation of nature is degraded by the advancement of technology, while others argue that technology advances our understanding and love of nature.  I agree more with the former rather than the latter because when we are accessing technology, whether it be through cellphones or computers, our attention is fully given to the computer screen and we do not behold the beauty directly in front of our eyes--beauty in its unadulterated, natural form propagated, but not technologically engineered, by man.  My eyes, of course, are immediately drawn to the leaves instead of the printer on the small table.  It seems that my inner and outer worlds collide in my haphazard home decor.

* * * 

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Thoughts: Typhoon Haiyan

I am confused.  So utterly confused right now.  Typhoon Haiyan (aka Typhoon Yolanda) has hit the Philippines a week ago, and media coverage and aid has been spotty as best, portraying the disaster more along the lines of a horrific, foreign event than as a pressing, worldwide matter.  Not to mention the whole China aid fiasco.  By the way, how can the world's "second-largest economy" care so little about humanitarian aid--so much so that it lags behind, embarrassingly enough, Swedish furniture giant Ikea's donation to Typhoon Haiyan relief efforts?

But I shouldn't be calling out only China over its nonchalant stance on the issue, for even in the US, Typhoon Haiyan publicity remains relatively quiet, as reflected on Etsy.  Remember the comaraderie that was duly expressed during Hurricane Sandy and the Japan tsunami and earthquake disasters?  Etsy teams sprung up for action, donation items were swiftly added for sale with proceeds benefiting disaster relief.  This has not been the case for Typhoon Haiyan relief efforts, in my opinion.  As of this afternoon, I typed "Typhoon Haiyan" in Etsy's search box and a mere 217 items* for sale came up.  I then searched "Typhoon Haiyan" and "Philippines" under Etsy teams, and there were no results that were specific to the typhoon relief efforts.  This finding stunned me, since there are/were at least four Etsy teams (in total) that were devoted specifically to Sandy or Japan relief efforts--I know this because I joined those very teams.

So why is Typhoon Haiyan different?  I honestly think it's because the Philippines, in contrast to Japan, is a vastly poor nation.  The following story supports this stance: in the days after the tsunami in Japan, I saw a news segment on a man who donated proceeds from sales in his hardware shop to Japan aid and recovery efforts because "They are just like us."

What does that mean to be just like us?

When we think of the Philippines, if we ever do, we envision a nation of poverty with a painful colonial history.  It is unfortunate that socioeconomic class (and racial bias) informs our perspective about others on a local, national, and global level because we are in fact all in this together: global events set in motion chain reactions that reverberate throughout once-separate-and-still-unequal communities, which are now connected through globalization and the increasingly mobile role of technology in our lives.  I should correct myself--technology in the lives of those in developed nations because the rest of the world typically cannot afford it; and if they can afford it, the purchase is made at the expense of most everything else (ie: important things such as healthcare and community improvement).  That's the difference, which is worth the risk of reaching out.


* An Etsy search of "Hurricane Sandy" and "Japan relief" came up with over 700 and over 400 results, respectively.  The search results for the phrase "Philippines relief" was similar in number to those of "Typhoon Haiyan."

Darn You, Internet Connection

I may intermittently be offline this week, since our computer connection has been spotty as of late.  It's fine because I have some interesting new shop designs to work on, and with a lack of complete Internet connection, I can employ all my faculties towards this endeavor.  I used to have mild panic attacks if I did not check my Etsy shop and email daily, but now, with this computer connection issue, things must be taken in stride...for sanity's sake.

That being said, I sure do hope this blog post saves.

More soon,

   EmeraldCut

Hey, Google

Google,*
   Why have you made it mandatory for those who post comments on Blogspot blogs to also have a Google+ account?  With this top-down decision, you have disabled me from commenting on Blogspot blogs without first signing up for a Google+ account.  It's eery, this new addition to your monolithic web franchise, as Google+ is reminiscent of the exclusivity of Facebook, as well as the high school mentality that runs rampant over there, even among adults.  Wait, wasn't Google+ initially touted as the "grown up" alternative to Facebook?

Sometimes people do not want to sign up for yet another Internet site.  We are too boggled down by the current sites we belong to--and not to mention, all the online conversational buzz can be overwhelming and over-stimulating.  Creativity, although stimulated in part by technology, can also just as easily be stifled by it, too.

I am not proposing that Google+ (or Facebook, for that matter) is a horrible social network--I cannot critique what I have not experienced firsthand.  Instead, I strongly believe that those who leave comments on Blogspot should have the choice of web anonymity or publicity.  Then the dialogue can openly begin without its participants first having been socially branded.

Regards,

   EmeraldCut


*Disclaimer:
I am unsure if this pre-comment, needing to create a Google+ account is the case across the board for all blogspot.com blogs.  Through my limited experience, there appears to be a correlation between Blogger folks with Google+ and this option-less issue.  

The Price of Technology

I was in deep conversation with a mentor-professor a few months ago, and she told me that the brand new campus library was unlike anything she had ever seen before--in fact, she likened it to the sci-fi films and books she remembered from childhood: robots and all.

Let me explain further.  This new library boasts a spacious open-floor plan with clean tables and cushy armchairs, floor after floor of cleanliness and orderliness abounds.  Interspersed between tables and chairs and empty carpeted space are a mere handful of computers.  Based on floor plan and aesthetics, the new building reminds me of the communal space of a posh college dorm where everyone owns a new laptop and a pair (or two) of expensive dress shoes.  Heck, there is even a Peet's Coffee on floor 1.  However, there was one monumental thing missing from this picture: books.

Where the heck were the books?

The mentor-professor stated that this state-of-the-art library was built with an insanely large room, inaccessible to the public, that spans from the bottom floor to the building's ceiling--seven or eight stories high, in total--where all the books are housed.  Organized, these books were, by size and color...not by the traditional subject, call number, title, or even author.  To access them, students and faculty must access the online library database and enter in a subject or title.  If the books are of interest, the next step is to request them.  Since the book stacks are housed in one gigantic room, even a handy ladder cannot not reach the ones highest up from the ground level.  So, instead of a ladder or human retrieving a book, the task is designated to a robot who grabs the book based on color and size--not title, call number, author, or subject.  Robots, in a library, grabbing books from a room that spans seven stories high indeed qualifies as strange, to say the least.

The wise mentor-professor then said something that really made me stop and think about the long-term cost of technological advances.  With this state-of-the-art library set-up, students and faculty are no longer able to physically go at random from aisle to aisle in search of interesting books.  More importantly, gone are books arranged by call number, so the public cannot access titles with similar call numbers or subjects without first requesting a book pick-up. 

Maybe I'm being too critical here, but I'm sticking to my belief that technology can be cool, sleek and modern--making life far more easier for you and I--but when it takes the place of critical thinking skills (i.e.: physically walking through aisles and searching for books), I see a glaring problem.  Imagine if your neighborhood library took this approach of stashing all books in an inaccessible area, and patrons could only blindly search the online database for them--it sucks the fun out of book finding.  It also increases our foolhardy reliance on technology to serve as a collective critical thinking cap that will, undoubtedly, affect later generations...and it is to that that I weep.