Jul 29 2002
Blogging Course
It seems that UC Berkeley, aka Miss Chelsea Clinton’s alma mater and widely considered to be one of the best schools in California, is planning on offering a blogging course this Fall. I found the fuss contained in the article somewhat amusing, especially the Altamont remark, but I find the whole idea that the purpose of blogs is to disseminate news and/or possibly replace newspapers laughable.
Maybe I need to take the course, but I think the point is to get a glimpse into other people’s lives and opinions. We are all naturally curious about each others’ lives, whether it’s celebrities in the tabloids or those weirdoes down the block, and I think that’s a big part of blogging’s appeal. Unless the course is designed to show people how to set up and maintain a blog, what’s the course for? And am I doing this right? After all, what could be more subjective than blogging?
It remind me of the Notorious Florence Incident.
In 1984, I was spending a few months in Italy with my father and little sister, recovering from heartbreak. This process was greatly speeded along by the attentions of the male natives. Blonde girls in Italy get lots of attention, and there’s nothing like getting flowers from complete strangers on the street and being told your arms are like alabaster to make you feel that your ex-boyfriend was a complete deludinoid. One day, my sister (who was 13) and I (22) were shopping in Florence, trying on sandals in an open-air market and having a great time, when she dropped this bomb into the conversation:
“I understand what the boy does in bed, but what does the girl do?”
This completely derailed my thoughts on whether the heel was too high on those mules, and I had no idea what to say. I mean, it’s not like you do A, then B, then C, and then you’re done, and I didn’t want to like scar for her life, you know? So I ended up saying something lame like “When the time comes, you’ll know what to do”. My sister dropped her shopping bags, put both her hands on hips, and said with the greatest disgust, “Well, I thought you’d tell me.”
I have to wonder: can this course really tell you what to do, any more than I could tell my sister? Can’t some things just be up to the individual?