My digital identity

The first time I Googled myself was in high school. I had no internet presence beyond a pink AOL web page, so the returned list of links consisted mostly of pages like "Cats of Witchcraft" and "Starcraft Cadet" -- crazy people in other states who shared my name and were somehow more important than I was.

So today I got an email from a student who addressed me as Ms. Avery. Not unusual, but I'm also called Mr. Avery plenty frequently in emails from strangers, so today I wondered how this particular guy knew I was a Ms. It could be a guess, but maybe he did his research.

(Related: Offline this week, I've been called Miss once and Ma'am twice, which has made me wonder if I'm officially venturing out Miss territory and into the greying, retirement-planning years of Ma'am. Why is there no middle ground for women between the juvenile and the matronly?)

So anyway, I Googled again. But instead of strangers responding to my call, I found versions of myself. Me as CSE Adviser. Me as "24 - Female - Seattle" on MySpace. Me as Amazon shopper, writer of nerdy reviews for special kitchen equipment and pet clippers. Me as instructor for a CSE seminar course. Only one link on this first Google page is not me, and frankly it's a bit disconcerting to find that list of crazy people online sharing my name is in fact mostly myself.

I do, however, enjoy that I am now clearly more important than the Cats of Witchcraft lady.

iPhones, you phones

Brian and I got iPhones. So now I can check my work email as I'm walking out the door at 5, and check my Gmail while sitting in front of my computer with Gmail already open. And listen to music and find movie times, etc. What I can not seem to do, with this telephone, is make phone calls.

I've yet to import my contacts from my old phone, so the only people I can call are the two numbers I have memorized: Brian and Mom. Someone else's Tennessee grandmother left me a messy message one morning, but I don't think wrong numbers count when calculating usefulness.

I tried to add a contact today (my salon, so, OK, three phone calls I can make) and accidentally called them four times before figuring out how to save the number instead of dialing. I blame not the iPhone, which is so usable the manual could fit in the change pocket of a pair of jeans, but my own ineptitude when it comes to dialing. Computers and I are close friends, but phones, fax machines -- it's like we've never been introduced properly.

As much as I love accessing the Internet within seconds of any whim, I hesitate to whip it out. I am afraid. 1: I am afraid I will drop it, and if not break it at least scratch the shiny surface. This may draw attention away from the greasy fingerprints covering the screen like an expressionist painting, but it would still be a disappointment. 2: I am afraid I will be hit by a bus while crossing the street and reading the NY Times on a 3" screen. And 3: I am afraid people on the street will either judge me for having an overpriced gadget or hit me with their purses and steal my overpriced gadget.

Beyond this paranoia (which is similarly caused by anything else in my life), it's pretty fantastic. It's as easy to use as the television ads suggest, it allows me to access the Internet with relative ease almost anywhere -- the necessity of this is debatable, but my life would revolve around the virtual world anyway, this just makes it more feasible. The 3G network is pretty much everywhere, so it's speedy. Good ringtones, nice UI, plenty of free apps. And I got to watch Obama's Berlin speech in the bathroom this morning (while getting ready). The option for more politics in the bathroom pretty much makes my life complete.

New blog look.

Not sure if I'm in love, but I erased the HTML for the old template so that's the end of that.

May play with this this weekend, clean it up, and make it a little more interesting. Also would like it centered -- am not a fan web pages pushed to one side of the browser.

Years of Clinique leads to quite a collection of Gift-With-Purchase makeup bags -- too many, and yet all too small to store the large quantities of lipstick bought to enable these GWPs in the first place. But we can't just trow away a nice floral-print PVC zippered pouch, so until now they've sat in a drawer in the closet. Le sigh.

Until now! Now I have discovered the wonder of swapping on Makeupalley. The site, which I used previously for user reviews, hosts a forum where ladies to trade lipgloss for lipgloss, shampoo for scrub, and four samples of MAC pigment for -- yes -- my useless little make-up bags. Useless to me, but an excellent find for Irony26 from Sublimity, OR, who apparently has a multitude of craft supplies to organize.

Over the last two weeks, I've received lipsticks, gloss, polish, and a bevy of "extras" -- it's standard, though not obligatory, to toss in a teeny sample or other free/cheapo bit of beauty with your swap.

I've also become a post office expert. Wednesday, I helped a woman with limited English and complete lack of USPS knowledge mail her Comcast bill, then explained the APC to a thoroughly mesmerized woman. (The APC, for you novices, is the Automatic Postal Center for weighing packages and printing lables. I highly recommend.)

Brian seemed skeptical -- and frankly, it's a little weird not knowing exactly where this gloss passed between Dior and my doorstep. But most people list (hopefully honestly) whether a product has been used, and every user receives reviews and positive or negative 'tokens' after a swap. So far, all my brand new friends have sent things in excellent condition. I can't imagine much greater rick here than sampling my way through Sephora on a busy Saturday.

And the benefits are excellent: swapping is like online shopping, except you only pay shipping. I get to tidy my stash, test brands I don't normally buy, and receive fun little packages of fun in mail. I also like to think we're helping the environment a bit by reusing and recycling. Al Gore would certainly be proud.

Creepy science.

Occasionally I feel compelled to read some engineering-related article, and find it vaguely interesting, thanks to my current position of faux-expertise. Bunnies wearing contacts that provide "super-human vision" (super-bunny vision?), however, goes beyond interesting into slightly disturbing.

I don't debate the benefits of circuit- and diode-laced lenses. Innumerable people could benefit from enhanced vision. My reasons for freaking out are twofold: one, bunnies with robot eyes look frightening; and two, it's difficult enough to navigate campus among a student body plugged into iPods -- imagine if they were "surf[ing] the Internet on a midair virtual display screen that only they would be able to see." Yike.

It was a great weekend for big screens. The Critic's Choice Awards, watched at the gym, were made more appealing from the tentativeness of the Oscar's, and Don Cheadle accepting the innaugeral Joel Siegel award for actors who are also good people. I thought it strange that he accepted an award for using his celebrity to publicize the crisis in Darfur, but didn't use his time at the mic to mention the issue.

Saturday night plans for Juno became plans for a drink and Atonement with Nate + Melissa. Thanks to the exceptional film, I think I've come to terms with Keira Knightly as a real actress (though not a real human; why can't she stop posing her face?).

Beautiful costumes, music, people. cinematography. Stylistically, it seemed to reference multiple Very interesting direction andgenres depending on the purpose of the scene, sometimes Casablanca-classic (McAvoy running after face-posing Knightly as she rides away on a tram), sometimes almost surreal (blood-red-curtained hospital room at night, with whispered conversation about croissants while the nurse re-wraps bandages over a soldier's throbbing brain). Overall, very contemporary, but not overwhelmingly so -- rather than feeling like a 2007 period piece, it is a fairly timeless film set (primarily) in the past.

Keira Knightly's Cecilia Tallis is too flat to form an opinion of, though it doesn't turn me off -- she's mostly forgettable, but not offensive; Briony Tallis is selfishly bitter and misguided, I can'tlike her; and James McAvoy is so wonderful that I did love his Robbie Turner until realizing the character is far too weak a man for me to be comfortable esteeming as a romantic hero. Despite this, I must have felt empathy for them, because I still loved the film. Comparatively, Sweeney Todd's line-up are all just bad people, for whom I felt nothing, and I don't particularly want to see the film ever again. In conclusion: quality film with characters I am ambivalent about is better than quality film with dislikable characters and lots of fake blood.

Then, Sunday, the final big screen of the weekend. Dissatisfied with 46" and imperfect black levels, Brian spent an unspeakable amount (think fabulous Tiffany ring [what?! who put that link there? Can't have been me.]) on a new TV far too large for any other apartment we will move into. We were halfway through constructing the Ikea throne when the King of TVs was delivered. Many cords, much recycling, and some Northlake pizza and pink wine later, we watched Harry Potter -- at least I did; Brian fell asleep halfway through. Apparently while money can buy as much entertainment as one wants, lack of sleep will still still get the better of you.

No secret Martha Stewart is pretty much my idol -- ambitious, entrepreneurial, stylish, healthy, assertive, a little sassy, and accepting of her own wrong-doings. I love that she built an empire on cakes and gardening and the best way to fold a tee-shirt. She defies the sad misconception that a woman must be domestic or professional, dominant or lovely -- basically, manages to maintain a super traditionally feminine identity without being limited by the weakness generally associated with such a persona.

So I was very excited to hear she could be my MySpace friend. She has a blog, photos from her modeling career and her New York farm, Edith Piaf's most-perfect La Vie En Rose playing in the background, and, of course, a wall full of flattering compliments. Not exactly a personal connection, but I still feel very delighted to be one of her lucky few (thousand) friends.