I don't yet have an HD Radio, so I don't know all the features it has, but I'm almost certain that it doesn't have what I need so desparately right now...

I'm often driving and listening to Marketplace Money, All Things Considered, BBC World Service, or some other delightfully enlightening radio production (yes, public radio geek am I), when I hear something of particular interest and vow to find out more about it as soon as I get to my computer. I do my best to memorize the segment's title, presenter, and URL.

Of course, by the time I reach someplace where I can safely surf the net, I've forgotten everything I was determined to remember...

This frustration leads me to propose that the next wave of HD radios include a feature that emails links to radio segments at the push of a button or, better yet, the sound of a voice. If such a feature existed, I might have actually been able to learn how to navigate workplace politics from the funny and, therefore, successful managers of world; to explore the music of Senegal's political rappers; or to read the poems of an inspiring featured poet from The Writer's Almanac.

So, who will take the next step? Sony? Pansonic? Pioneer? Delphi?

Missing the news,
j

Working the Jumble today, one series of letters gave me some trouble: YUPRIF.

I thought I had the answer when "putrify" occurred to me. I began to enter the letters, but found they didn't quite fit. I reviewed my options. And, when I realized no "T" was available, it dawned on me that "purify" was the correct answer.

So, what does that say about my state of mind?

So much for me posting fun things a few times a week...I quit my job, started to pack for moving, and got called to jury duty all within the last four days.

Needless to say, waxing poetic or sarcastic on MySpace has dropped down to the bottom of my To-Do List.

When I get settled in my new digs (July 1st) and, shortly thereafter (I hope), my new job, I'll again aspire to amuse myself with this odd little corner of the web.

MySpace has awesome potential for self-sabotage. Creating a profile here feels no different than creating one in AOL, but it is different. With AOL or Yahoo! you can choose utter revelation within the comfort of utter anonymity. Here, proclaiming your true identity is the whole point. Sure, the Human Brain, Jesus Christ, and Hitler all have accounts and many role players must be enjoying their constructed personalities, but the majority of MySpace users are who they claim to be. Most of us joined MySpace to connect with friends, to seek them out and be sought by them. Acknowledging our real selves is essential to this purpose.

So, we're identified, but MySpace still feels like regular cyberspace with all its freedom and inconsequentiality. With AOL, I wrote whatever nonsense was on my mind. It was safe to mouth off about my exploits. I felt safe knowing that people who knew the person behind my screen name also knew how to take my remarks. Here, I felt that safety for about two hours. Then, someone emailed me saying a friend had directed them to my profile. Previously, I'd heard stories of high school's punishing their students based on MySpace evidence, but wasn't convinced of the danger until I was approached by a random surfer.

What's the point of this post? I guess it's a pre-emptive apology for any vanilla tendencies in this blog. My impulse is to treat blogging as a uniquely free form of expression, like the private journal I secretly want everyone to read. But cognizance and consideration will force me to check such impulse.

So, you won't find me ranting about the questionable business and labor practices of a recent employer. Nor will you find me recounting my own personal Girls Gone Wild. You'll find no conspiracy theories or political manifestos, no criminal boastings or guilty revelations. You won't even find an explanation for why Norelco's tagline warms me (not yet, anyway).

Speaking of Norelco...when I was looking for said tagline, I stumbled across this little site: www.shaveeverywhere.com. I was rather amused.

Consider yourself fairly warned. Let no reader accuse me of causing death by ennui.

-j